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For years, maybe decades, I’d been plagued with a little curse called “cervical polyps.” Wikipedia defines them thus: A cervical polyp is a common benign polyp or tumour on the surface of the cervical canal. They can cause irregular menstrual bleeding (and it did) but often show no symptoms (other than the damned bleeding, of course). Treatment consists of simple removal of the polyp and prognosis is generally good. About 1% of cervical polyps will show neoplastic change which may lead to cancer. They are most common in post-menstrual, pre-menopausal women who have been pregnant.
Well, I should have been too old, and I was childless besides(I forgot to have children). But the damned things kept coming back. And back. And back again. And then one day, just like Jessup, they changed. And when I had them evicted, they contained cancer cells. Hysterectomy, the doctor said. Fine, I said. March 19, he countered. Nope. Can’t do it, I replied.
He responded with incredulity, understandably. Why not, he said. I’m making a movie, I answered. He shook his head and sighed. What are you doing the 23rd, he asked.
Evicting this bastard, I said. Wanna help?
And so he did, and we did and I got to wait until I could shoot my little part in the little movie, and all was right with the world. For about 2 weeks. But all during those two weeks, a little bug was growing, way back in the back of the incision. Either someone nicked an intestine and let it loose, or it just fell out of the hospital air. But it survived, and grew. And about mid-April it came to get me.