As Jade Goody's beautifully dignified, brave face and bald head appeared on the television this morning with the announcement that she has finally lost her battle with cervical cancer, a shudder ran through me.
Eight years ago, at the tender age of 21, I was diagnosed with "severe" cervical dysplasia, or carcinoma in situ; cells which if left untreated, turn into invasive cancer as the abnormal cells start to attack the tissue under the skin's surface.
It was by chance that I had my first smear, earlier that year. Living away from home in Manchester, I'd carelessly run out of contraceptive pills before registering with a doctor. A visit to the family planning clinic saw me not only start to take a vested interest in my sexual health but probably saved my life.
The nurse there was perturbed that I had not yet already had a smear, having been sexually active then for five years. I had heard about smear tests – rumours in the amateur dramatic dressing rooms, with older girls' faces twisted in pain, disgust and embarrassment as they related stories of doctors' visits to their friends. But in my mind, cancer was something that affected my mum's age group, not mine. The nurse, thankfully, convinced me otherwise.
Two smear tests, two colposcopies and three biopsies later, the letter came through on Christmas Eve that they would have to operate. And the operation, as intrusively terrifying as it was, was a success. A small matter of lasering away the areas of bad cells pinpointed by the colposcopy.
Now, after five years of twice yearly colposcopies, and three years of annual smears, I can safely say cervical cancer is no longer something that haunts me. Which is more than can be said for members of Jade's family this morning.
It wasn't long after my operation that the age of smear testing for young women was pushed forward to 25 – 25! Waiting in my doctor's surgery for another of my countless checkups, I clocked a small inoffensively designed poster announcing the smear test age change – portrayed more in a "Phew – it's OK, girls, you won't have to worry about that for ages" than a "Sorry, haven't got enough money to screen you for a disease that could see you dead in a matter of months" way. My doctor was just as depressed as me. If he had his way, he told me, he wouldn't just smear girls from the point of sexual activity, he would offer colposcopies. God only knows what my fate would have been had my cervical dysplasia been left for four years.
The average age for cervical cancer is 29. That means for every 38-year-old suffering with this disease, there is a 20-year-old. Not that they would know about it. I live now in Cornwall with three other women, all in their mid-20s, and not one has been tested. One million women who actually qualify for smear-testing missed their appointment last year. A third in the 25- to 29-year-old group. And in the age group below? You're told to wait. Forget the changing-room chinese whispers about torturous implements and agonising pain: that has never been my experience. And, trust me, I've had experience. Go for a smear test. Go if you "qualify" – and go if you don't.
