The below entry is very long. It also includes descriptions of menstrual processes and side effects. If this bothers you, please do not continue reading. This entire blog is intended for adult audiences. It uses obscenities freely and openly discusses topics that are not considered acceptable for polite company. Absolutely nothing within this blog should be considered medical advice. If you have concerns, please see your doctor.
I got my period at age 11. At first it wasn't terrible; I had some pretty nasty cramps and the expected bloating and mood swings, but it wasn't anything unexpected. But as time went on, things got worse. Cramps became unbearable. I've had to take time off of school and work. It's been so severe that it's caused backaches, headaches, nausea, vomiting, and on a few stellar occasions, passing out. Heavy bleeding is an understatement. By the time I was 19, I probably could have qualified to be one of those techs that cleans up crime scenes after grisly murders. I recall one stellar instance in college that I'll recount to you, because I really want you to understand the intensity of the pain.
I had recently dislocated and sprained my knee. I was just off of crutches, and still using Darvocet (an opioid pain reliever that has since been pulled from the market for causing heart problems; like the little brother of Percocet) to manage my knee pain. I was stuck in All Day Tech for The Wizard of Oz when I suddenly felt like I had been simultaneously stabbed and hit in the gut with a steel bar. My eyes watered, I doubled over in pain, and I vaguely recall one of my classmates asking me if I was ok. I was not. Luckily, we were only 10 minutes from lunch. When we were excused for lunch, one of my classmates walked me back to my dorm. I took one of my Darvocet and stuffed the bottle into my bag. An hour later, I was still in unbearable pain. I took a second. I then proceeded to curl up in a ball in the Kansas house and cry for the next 2 hours until the pain dulled enough that I could move. (Fortunately, that particular set piece wasn't needed in that time, nor was I.)
Please note, I was on oral birth control at the time. Not primarily to prevent pregnancy, but to minimize the symptoms of my periods. After this particular horror show, the next time I returned to Long Island, I went back to my doctor and requested a change in medication.
My medication debacle went on for years. I would be on one brand of oral bc for 9-18 months, and it would start to fail. I'd have breakthrough bleeding, worse PMS symptoms, breakouts, etc. My period, which had previously been reliable enough to set a watch by (precisely 2:30am on the 23 of each month, except for months divisible by 4, whereupon it would occur at precisely 2:45am on the 21st...and yes, I'm serious. I remember.) was unpredictable. It didn't always come when taking the placebo pills, and it sometimes came when I was taking active pills. They tried me on LoEstrin, Apri, LoEstrin Lo, Lo Loestrin FE, Yaz, Seasonique, Seasonale, Natazia, and probably a couple others that I can't remember. At one point, I spent an entire month straight bleeding. I was sent for sonograms, ultrasounds, invasive and non-invasive testing. As far as anyone could tell, there was nothing actually wrong with me. I was diagnosed with PMDD somewhere along the way and told that I had such godawful symptoms because I'm "just lucky, I guess" according to one charming gynecologist.
At age 16 I decided I didn't want kids. The decision came from working in community theatre and dealing with the brattiest little fucks in the world. Despite knowing that not all children are beastly creatures, and that I could raise kids to be fairly normal humans, my resolve didn't waver. I found out that the majority of my mood disorders have a genetic component. A variety of unpleasant medical issues run in my family. I came to the conclusion that if I ever wanted kids, I could adopt, but that there was no way I would ever willingly spawn a child. 0/10, would not do. As time has progressed, the idea of pregnancy has become even more unpleasant to me. While I'm happy for those around me who have kids, and I'll love on my friends' and family's people nuggets, the idea of becoming pregnant is, to me, repugnant. I have had paralyzing nightmares about pregnancy. It is genuinely a fear.
6 years ago, I finally found a doctor who was willing to consider something other than oral bc. There weren't a ton of options that would actually do what I needed; tubal ligation is extremely effective at preventing pregnancy, but my body would have to take back over on providing hormones and controlling periods, and after so long on bc intended to help with my symptoms, that would be unpredictable at best. The implant can have unpredictable effects on cycles. And so I was introduced to Skyla. An IUD intended specifically for women who have not been pregnant. And honestly, it has been significantly better than anything else. It lasts for 3 years, so I'm on Skyla #2. The first 2 weeks after insertion SUCKED, but after everything died down and my body figured out what was going on, things were pretty great. My period has decreased in frequency to 2-3 times per year, and typically lasts no more than 3 days, whereas it used to last no less than 6 previously. Cramps still take the wind out of my sails, but they are much shorter lived, and only occasionally make me puke. Mood swings and breakouts have all but stopped. Except for the last month before I can get it replaced. Which is where I am now. In that last month for the second time. So, just like 3 years ago, I feel like shit. I have for a bit over a week. It's tiring.
I was prepared to go back to NY to get my IUD swapped out. But COVID has made that logistically impossible. So I went on the hunt for a gynecologist in NoVA. And I found one. I went in with the expectation of having a consultation regarding simply replacing Skyla, but I also wanted to discuss what other options were available. It's been 6 years since I discussed the possibilities, so who knows what new contraptions men have developed to torture treat women. And let me tell you, this doctor was cool. He told me about a few other options, and discussed why he wouldn't recommend some. And then, almost jokingly, he said, "Other than that, the only other option would be a hysterectomy." And I nearly jumped off the table.
I have been BEGGING doctors to remove my uterus since that day in college, weeping in the Kansas house, hopped up on opioid pain relievers and barely able to breathe with the pain. I've been given every excuse in the book: you're too young, you'll change your mind, what if you get married and your husband wants kids (which was asked by a WOMAN, to which I replied, "sounds like a him problem", and she was not amused), and the ever popular, insurance won't cover it.
So hearing that, I said, "Actually, if that's on the table, I would like that option. I've been asking for it for like, 12 years." (It's 14. I'm bad at math on the fly.)
And this man, this wonderful, amazing man, agreed to ask my insurance company. A request was sent, with the backup option of another IUD.
Today I got the call. My insurance company will cover 85% of it. I'd be on the hook for around $450. I cried. My parents offered to cover the cost, because I said I'd have to wait a few months until my family was in a more secure financial situation. I cried more. And then I panicked.
You see, I've spent the last 14 years, nearly half of my life, being told that I don't have that kind of control over my body. This part, this utterly useless part, that serves no function other than to cause me pain, was something I would have to live with because it wasn't diseased. The negative impact on my mental health didn't matter, nor did the missed work (or school, or other activities). And suddenly, after nearly 34 years of being told what I can and cannot do with my own body, I have control. A man with 35+ years in the OB/GYN field *listened* to my concerns, and actually heard them. And then asked a simple question of an insurance company. "Will you cover this minimally invasive surgery?" And the answer was "Yes".
I am still waiting a few months. I am incredibly grateful to my parents for their offer, but this is something I need to do myself. And frankly, I never thought I would get that "Yes". I've spent so long expecting to be told no that I never actually considered the implications of receiving a yes. And if I'm going to do it now, I'd have to do it by the end of the month for it to be efficient with the whole IUD situation. 3 weeks to deal with 14 years worth of emotion is not enough time. I will be getting the surgery within the next 12 months. I have waited a long, long time. But I need to make sure that my headspace is good before I do. I know with absolute certainty that this is what I want, but all that time spent being frustrated and angry is not something I can safely let go of in 3 weeks.
If you pray, you may want to say a prayer for my therapist. She's gonna need all the help she can get when we unpack this all next week.
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