Pap smears aren’t only for the ladies

When it comes to testing, it seems women get the short end of the stick. Between mammograms and pap smears, they have to go through often painful and invasive tests to guarantee their physical health.

As young men, we luckily get to turn our heads and cough while getting felt up.

“Have you gotten your pap smear yet?” my doctor asked me as I pulled my pants up after my coughing duties.

“Well, the last time I checked, I didn’t have a vagina,” I tried joking with him. He didn’t laugh.

“I’m talking about an anal pap smear. It tests for anal cancer. Farah Fawcett died of anal cancer, you know.”

I actually didn’t know that. He suggested I make an appointment with the nurse practitioner, Myra, who performed the anal pap smears.

I figured if it could happen to Farah, certainly it could happen to anyone. So I booked the next available appointment right away.

“Did you know Farah Fawcett died of anal cancer?” Myra asked me at our scheduled test as she snapped on her latex gloves. Apparently Farah’s death is the best opener to discussing the anal pap.

“So many people do not know that. Nobody wants to talk about the anus because it just makes everyone laugh and feel embarrassed. But anal health is really important,” Myra continued.

I tried not to giggle aloud about her anal soap box. She pulled out several long Q-tips and began thoroughly explaining  how the anal pap smear worked.

I pulled my pants down and bent over, eager to get it over with. After sliding in the long Q-tips, Myra did not merely pull them out. She removed them slowly with a twisting motion. The sensation was like being tickled on the inside: it is uncomfortable, yet amusing. She had to do this a few times as the Q-tip twistings would be used to collect cells from the anal canal.

Just for good measure, Myra also wanted to get a standard feel from the inside. This way she could just feel around to see if there was anything unusual.

To my delight, she reported that I had a perfectly normal feeling anus.

This gave me confidence that the Q-tip samples would also come back completely normal.

While definitely not the most fun a rear could have, it still did not seem as invasive as the female pap smear.

A week later, Myra called to inform me that my anus was not as “normal” as I had hoped.

Like many gay men who have penetrative sex, the pap test came back with some abnormal results and we had to make another appointment for further investigation.  From her explanation, I could tell that round two would not be as easy.

The first part, called a High Resolution Anoscopy (HRA), would give the practitioner an up close look (with a high-powered microscope) instead of just an up close feel (with a latex covered finger). The second part involved biopsying tissue from the areas where the HRA showed irregularities.

Back in Myra’s office, bent over and bare from waist down, I took a deep breath as I tried to tell myself this wasn’t a big deal. She inserted some lubricant, a mild anesthetic and dyes into my anal canal. The dyes, including iodine and vinegar, would help illuminate any cluster of odd cells that may be biopsy-worthy.

At the other end of my torso, the vinegar smelled pungent and all I could think of was dying Easter eggs.

The microscope felt more like a telescope shoved inside me.

The anesthetic didn’t relieve the feeling of pressure as she stared into the depths of my ass – much like an astrologer staring into outer space. It didn’t take much time before she found the spots she wanted to slice into to obtain tissue samples.

Afterward, Myra told me not to do anything strenuous for the next few days and that the biopsied spots often heal quickly. She said I could resume anal sex after a couple weeks – as if I was some sort of kid begging for candy after the dentist.

Little did she know, the post-anesthesia pain made me think I never wanted to have butt sex again.

I was embarrassed about all of the ass explorations that had taken place, but as my partner drove me home, he comforted me with more conversation about Farah Fawcett.

A week later, Myra informed me that the results came back with the mildest outcome. Nothing further needed to be done except to repeat the exam annually in order to monitor any changes.

It was definitely worth putting my ass on the line to ensure its safety, yet I suddenly empathized with my female counterparts’ fears about these invasive preventative measures.

Sometimes in life, regardless of gender, we need to be searched on the inside in order to ensure a long and healthy life on the outside.