Currently This

I'm scheduled to go under the first knife on Wednesday, at 10:30 in the morning. They call it conization, and it translates roughly to 'cold knife slicing most of cervix off'. They will also do a hysteroscopy, and a d and c, which is always fun. I won't know if I get to have the hysterectomy until they biopsy what they slice off and scrape out.

I've decided never, ever, to have sex again. I haven't thought about this. I didn't weight the pros and cons, or the merits of individual relationships and come to a reasoned, logical decision. I just decided. They're taking most of my cervix. I'm never letting a penis in there again.

It isn't that I am particularly fond of my cervix, per se. As cervixes go, it has been very faithful, but we drifted apart after the kids were born. Still, it's my fucking cervix. More than that, I cannot, cannot, cannot get past the fact that a penis did this to me. Nothing gets past that. Nothing. A penis left this inside me, incubating all these years, still trying to kill me.

I want to rent a hotel room where I can scream and rage about this. When I let myself luxuriate in what I think about this, I am surprised by how angry I am, how murderously angry I am, how I want to rip and tear at my flesh. This is not fair. I want to shriek and cry and kill. It isn't about the possibilities of cancer or losing parts of myself, or any hope of another child lost. It's that he wins again. He crazy fuck stalker ex live in, he men, he penises in general, fucking penises.

My dad, my brothers, the guy who raped me when I was sixteen, crazy fuck stalker ex live in, my ex-husband, they all have penises and what they all have in common is that they were thinking with those penises when they did what they did to me. Yeah, yeah, I know. The men behind them, Transient. I do know. But fuck that. It was penises. And crazy fuck stalker ex live in, who tried to kill me, who raped me again and again, tying me up, torturing me, stalking me, sticking me with a criminal record, stuck in my brain so that a song or a smell or street sign takes me right back to his hands on me, here he is again, all these years later STILL fucking me, STILL taking pieces of me, at his whim, at his leisure, able to mess around in my body now all these years removed as easily and blithely as he did when he had me tied up. There's no getting away from him.

That's what's getting me. He said I would never get away, and oh how I laughed when I did, how smug I was. In the end, he was right. He's been stalking me all along. Whether it was crazy fuck stalker ex live in or the ex-husband, he was right. It's not fair that finally ridding my body of the disease he was is going to cost me so much and he NOTHING. All my smug bullshit about surviving rape, incest, abuse, yada blah, all of it meaningless braggadocio because they were left behind in me after all, larval, parasitic bits of them left behind and I've been carrying them with me all along, nourishing them with my blood and tissue. I'm infected with them. I never got away. How do you survive it when it's still happening? If it's still happening, what have all these years been? Who the fuck am I, then? What the fuck is my life?

God, how I rage right now.