Category: #Periodically

  • The menstrual cup is disgusting – until it’s not #Periodically 7

    The menstrual cup is disgusting – until it’s not #Periodically 7

    Sorry mum – you’re really going to hate this one. It’s your least favourite topic my large repertoire of vaginal related discussion – the menstrual cup. 

    I started reading articles and blogs, even watching vlogs, about people with uteruses’ experiences with menstrual cups probably about a year ago, when I began to get a period every month. Given the torment of my bleed I was buying at least one box of tampons and one pack of sanitary towels every month, and it was adding up. The financial benefits of the cup were very attractive.

    However, I despised those who sang the praises of the blessed bloody cup. There were dozens of articles and blogs where people lamented about how ‘once you try the cup there’s no going back’. How lives had been changed, transformed, improved. “What a load of bollocks,” I thought. Of course there were positives, but the emotion being expressed towards a piece of silicone that gets shoved up ones vagina, was bonkers.

    Instead, I relished in the, often comedic, articles about how horrific trial runs of cups had derailed. Women who had to call in the aid of flatmates, boyfriends and mothers to fish cups out of there apparent venus fly traps. “I tried a menstrual cup and NEVER AGAIN EVER NO NEVER” were often the type of headline that went along with such stories. They were very funny, but also sounded quite traumatic – they were very much how I imagined my experience going.

    And I wasn’t wrong. I first tried, after internet advice, to use the cup a few days before my period was due – no joy, I couldn’t get the damn thing in. Even though I knew full well that I hadn’t the foggiest idea how I was going to insert it, a few days later I tried while I was on my period. What a mistake. Total carnage. Texts were sent, tears were shed, photos were taken (don’t worry – I can’t even bring myself to look). Somehow, I thought I had actually inserted the cup – well, no I had inserted it but the point is I had inserted it badly – and an hour after sitting at my desk thinking how well it was all going I went to check and that’s when the bathroom fast transformed into a crime scene.

    I don’t know how or why but the cup made my period heavier and more painful that it already was, leaving me doubled up in more ways than one and swearing that I would never go near the damn thing again. But, a bit like labour actually, four weeks later I had put the turmoil, and the photo, behind me and I was ready to try again – but this time towards the end of my period (a much better idea). YouTube propped up on the bath, I relaxed my body and followed the YouTuber’s instructions on several ways to fold the cup. Some forty odd minutes later I had FOUND MY FOLD. That should be a hashtag, maybe it is – but hell, you really do discover which one is for you. #FindYourFold

    The next issue came in that I couldn’t get the ruddy thing to open up inside me, but again a little more YouTubing and foruming led me to the answer. I had no idea the pelvic floor muscles were equally as strong as pulling things into the vagina as they are at expelling them…

    The next couple of cycles were a bit hit or miss but gradually, the cup and I are beginning to become good friends. We’ve even been on holiday together! I still, for some unknown reason, have unexplainable leakage on day three every month but it’s nothing a pantyliner can’t handle and otherwise I am starting to understand why all those people loved their cups so much. I haven’t bought a box of tampons or towels in four months, I saved on some serious packing room in South America, the space I need to occupy in the bathroom has reduced, I can wear it while I anticipate my period and while it’s dying off (comfortably!), my environmental impact has been reduced and I no longer have to deal with overcrowded sanitary bins or making sure the pockets of every bag I own are sufficiently stocked. I’ve even gotten to know a lot about my wonky cervix and how often it moves (and oh how I gagged when I realised that was what had happened). What’s not to love?

    The answer to the latter question is the process. That’s what I think was missing from all those articles I read. Everyone either hated or loved their cup. I didn’t read a single article that said “stick with it, it’s going to be rough (read: disgusting) for a couple of cycles, but when you figure it out the benefits are really quite impressive”. So I’m going to say it. The menstrual cup? Stick with it, it’s going to be rough (read: disgusting) for a couple of cycles, but when you figure it out the benefits are really quite impressive.

    My period is always a weird time of the month for me, and it’s often quite painful – but the faff of actually having to deal with my period is gone now, and it’s a welcomed change to my cycle when so many other things make me want to hate it.

    Hilary’s menstrual cup recommendations (there’s something I never thought I’d write!)

    Where I purchased my cup (I have a meluna): http://www.femininewear.co.uk/ 
    The brilliant YouTube channel that got me where I am today: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5jJ_1US1DjRYJF_WU4sQ5w
    My fold! #FindYourFold: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m25SKJwWARY

     

  • Why didn’t the gynae look at my vagina? #Periodically 6

    Why didn’t the gynae look at my vagina? #Periodically 6

    There were a couple of requests after I ominously ended Periodically 2 with ‘a story for another day’ in reference to my visit to the gynaecologist. Well folks, today is that day! I have discussed certain aspects of those conversations in Periodically 4, but let’s get right into the nitty gritty, shall we?

    Oh wait, we can’t. Because I waited over three months for a gynaecology appointment for the gynae NOT TO LOOK AT MY VAGINA. I understand that my symptoms are mostly ‘deeper’ than the vagina but come on, what if it’s something obvious? Maybe I don’t have a vagina, or maybe it’s upside down? I don’t know, the only professional that ever looked was Dr H and she said ‘we all come in different shapes and sizes’. As true and profound as that is, it’s not what you really want to hear when a doctor is looking at your vagina for the first time… and let’s remember, that was said moments before ‘I can’t seem to find your cervix’.

    Tangent: I do question why in Europe and the USA gynaecology appointments are so standard for most people with female reproductive systems, and yet in the UK most people don’t see a gynaecologist until they’re pregnant. 

    Want to talk about another disappointment? I had an ultrasound and then didn’t let me see! The liberty! Considering asking to stay awake for the laparoscopy next month, just so I can ask ‘WELL?’

    Simply put, the gynaecologist just confirmed that all my symptoms sound like endometriosis, but that there was high chance that it could be ‘nothing’. Dr M went straight into filling out the consent form for a diagnostic laparoscopy (that he didn’t entirely explain to me, but thank you Google). The plan is that he will poke a couple of holes in me to assess the damage, if there is any he’ll fix what he can but if it’s anything more sinister I’ll be brought back round to discuss possibly treatments.

    It was a very underwhelming appointment after weeks and weeks of anticipation, but all jokes aside, I’m just glad I was seen (progress!) and that it was free. Thank you NHS, you wonderful, wonderful thing. #SaveOurNHS

    It was a waste of a shower though. OK, I’ll stop.

  • Conversations with others that shouldn’t have happened #Periodically 5

    Conversations with others that shouldn’t have happened #Periodically 5

    In my last blog, I talked about conversations with my doctors that I’m not convinced were fair. Today, I want to talk about conversations I’ve had with my nearest and dearest. They are an incredibly supportive bunch, but a few things that have been said to me over the last year really demonstrate how entrenched our dismissal of female reproductive issues, particularly for those not trying to conceive, are in our day-to-day lives and the language we use.

    “Sex isn’t meant to be good all the time, Hilary”

    Why the hell not? A friend of mine is determined that the two of us ought to champion the cause of making good sex a human right. Anyone, anywhere in the world should have the opportunity to practice safe, legal and consensual sex and for it to be good, if you ask me. Besides if it’s not meant to be good, why do it? And don’t say reproduction, while it is obviously a factor there is clearly a whole lot more to sex that the desire to produce offspring alone.

    “Have you tried not having sex?”

    Not. The. Point. Sex is important, I know it’s not everything, but it is important.

    “Shut up, everyone’s periods hurt”

    If we can put humans on the moon, harvest energy from the sun and transplant organs, why the hell can’t we find a practical treatment for period pain? For most people who have periods the pain is either manageable or easily calmed with painkillers, but we can’t keep ignoring those whose pain is interrupting their daily lives.

    “Have you tried anal?”

    Ah, the question that I’ve been asked the most and that makes me laugh more than any of the others. While I’m sure it’s a viable option, for me, it’s not the point. Symptoms like those I’ve been experiencing are red flags that my fertility is a little compromised, and even though I have no desire to start popping out sprogs any time soon, I’d like know what’s coming and whether or not I can fully restore my uterine health. Plus, my trend of constipation after sex leads me to think that anal sex might not be any more comfortable for me than vaginal…

    I have a few more of these, let me know if you want to hear them!