Tag: dyspareunia

  • Admitting Defeat? #Periodically 26

    Admitting Defeat? #Periodically 26

    Technically speaking, it’s been almost two months since I last shared a personal update on my tricky situation. Why the hiatus? I’m not sure. I guess my oversharing side took a backseat and I decided, for the first time in a year, to just dwell on things in private. When I write these blogs I poke fun at my situation and force myself end on a positive note. By not writing about it, I’ve had a lapse in perspective and lost my sense of humour about it all.

    Also, the longer I left it the more there was to cover and now I’m not entirely sure where to start. With the good news, perhaps?

    The Third Pill Pack

    So I had a painless period. I don’t mean that to sound so nonchalant – it was a huge deal. I was scared to mention it in case I jinxed it. In fact, the painlessness continued for a couple of weeks after that. I was nervous to admit it. Had three months on the pill really fixed things so quickly and completely? No, was the answer.

    A few days before my next cycle I started to get some of my old pain, mostly the stuff that’s localised to my right side and gets dramatically worse every time I use my right leg. My PMS has been considerably worse since I’ve been on the pill but I’ve also noticed a dramatic drop in my mood the moment I am in pain. This didn’t used to happen. While I wait to sort out psychosexual counselling I’ve just got a standard counsellor for now, and since she can’t help as much with the vaginismus stuff, she’s doing her best to help me counter pain-induced mood swings.

    Around this time, my skin decided that a little acne on the pill would no longer do and broke out into the longest, most relentless bout of acne that I’ve had since puberty. Fab.

    The Fourth Pill Pack

    Old habits die hard, and the painful/grumpy premenstrual days foreshadowed a painful period. My periods are definitely less painful, lighter and generally better than they were before the pill and for the last few bleeds I’ve got away without painkillers, which is another huge victory. What was frustrating however, was that after my period ended, the pain didn’t. I wasn’t all that upset at first because I had a follow up scan a few days after and, as always, I applied the logic that if I was in pain then the scan might pick something up. I had built up to this particular scan more than normal because it was a big deal — if the internal ultrasound showed up clear then the chances were that my gynaecologist would declare that the pill had cured me and discharge me from his care. No pressure then, ovaries.

    When I got to the hospital though, there was no one there. It was a bank holiday and the hospital was closed. I had raised my eyebrows when I got the appointment months ago, but I didn’t question it since it had been outsourced to a private healthcare provider. That was a mistake. I wanted the scan to be that week because if the pill has “fixed” me in the sense that I now grow a cyst in my pill-free week and then it gradually goes away over the three weeks on the pill, then it’s not a particularly thorough fix. Having the scan a few days after my period and being in pain was the best possible time to catch *something* in the act. There’s also the added complication that having vaginismus, even though mine is manageable, means that I have to psych myself up for a transvaginal scan.

    The let down from not having the scan was pretty bad. I was upset. What didn’t help was that the bulging pain in my side continued to get worse and worse and was accompanied by some delightful bloating, only convincing me further that if I’d had the scan that day, they might’ve found something. Even though my scan was rescheduled for a week later, I knew my luck would mean it was a no-go. (I was right).

    I’d been looking forward to this particular week (I had a free house, wahoo!) and was planning to cook and eat and write and exercise (more on that another time) but I was in so much pain, riddled with some of the worst acne I’ve ever had, miserable from the non-event scan and generally very lacklustre, so I ended up regressing seven years and lolling about on Sims 2. I didn’t even read. This was all coupled with a vague work crisis, so basically it was a nightmarish shit-storm of a week.

    When I eventually had the scan it didn’t end up being an entirely negative experience. The sonographer and the chaperone were the two women who scanned me both times they found the cysts and were supportive in the fact that they knew that in cases like this, no news is not necessarily good news. Bizarrely, the sonographer, before inserting (is that any better than ‘penetrating?’ *cringe*) the device, gestured towards my vagina and asked, “are you alright with all that now?” and I WISH I had asked what she meant. Had she realised I had vaginismus way back when? I’ll never know.

    I tried to write off *that week* as a bad week and to carry on after I’d had the scan but the pain was stubborn to shift. I just felt a bit like a sick person again, lying down after dog walks and needing to catch my breath after the simplest of tasks. Pain is knackering. I think chronic pain flare-ups are always harder to handle after getting an ‘all-clear.’

    Pain Management 

    Bracing for the inevitable discharge letter from my gynae, I went to my new, new, new GP to discuss what my options were now. Five weeks or so ago I would’ve been happy with how things had improved on the pill but now I know my pain can still flare up just as much as it used to even though I’m on the pill. While the flare-ups are definitely rarer occurrences, I’m not really happy with this as an end point. There’s also the fact that the scan really hurt, penetration still hurts. It’s still intrusive and upsetting and I’d really just like to be done with it all now.

    Because of this, my GP has finally convinced me to focus on pain management. I feel like I’m admitting defeat because I really want to know what is causing my pain, plus I’m scared that if I never find the cause then the underlying problem may never shift. But honestly, I’m exhausted. Even if it’s only for a little while, pain management seems like the right thing to do, especially with the way my mood is correlating with my pain. So for now, I’m on amitriptyline, a low dose antidepressant that *may,* over time stop me feeling pain. It sounds scary and the list of side effects is TERRIFYING (spontaneous lactation?!) but I’m on such a low dose of the stuff that I’m not too worried for the time being.

    Since I’m going to be staying on the pill as part of this pain management programme, and it’s been long enough that my skin should’ve have calmed down or improved, I’m now on a new night-time gel for my acne. These two treatments combined have a load of risk factors that mean I should avoid sunlight and alcohol — fun summer 2018 for me then — but they’re not hard and fast rules. I’ve also been taking Evening Primrose Oil at my mum’s request since it used to help her PMS and acne. My PMS was particularly bad last week so I doubled my dose of EPO to no avail… worth a shot, eh?

    Let’s hope these guys can work together!

    I’ve definitely let things, pain and otherwise, get the better of me over the last few weeks, which is so frustrating because I have some really exciting things going on and coming up. I want to be able to enjoy it all, so pain management seems like the right way to go.

    Check out my latest review for A Younger Theatre here: Consent, Harold Pinter Theatre.

  • A Period of Change #Periodically 21

    A Period of Change #Periodically 21

    Right first of all, some truths, disclaimers, apologies etc. Since I started the pill, and I don’t know if it’s because of the pill or whether it’s just a coincidence, but I have really struggled to start new writing projects. Ongoing projects have been fine, but creatively, coming up with new ideas and starting new sentences has been a challenge. So while it’s been a hot minute (5 weeks) since I started the pill, I’m only now writing about it for the first time.

    It has been a total ride, hell, it still is. From temper tantrums to bowel-crises, emergency gynaecology appointments to jaw aches – the last five weeks have had it all. For today though, I’m just going to focus on the first pill pack and how that was. As many will know, when you go on or off a hormonal contraceptive, or any hormonal treatment, things can get weird for your mind and body. I knew it was coming, but unfortunately that didn’t make it any easier. Knowing it was going to be a period of change for potentially unpleasant reasons, I decided to add some *nicer* changes too, so I bought a new menstrual cup from Me Luna (which I love and will talk about in more disgusting detail another time) and readied my period pants sent to me by Thinx.

    The first pill pack

    When you start a combined contraceptive pill it’s recommended that you take the first pill on the first day of your period. This immediately means your cycle will be shorter that ‘month’ because your withdrawal bleed from the pill will come in three weeks from your last period, not four. I did as followed, of course, and was immediately confused. Despite all the signals my body had been giving me that I was about to have a particularly bad period, nothing really happened. My period had started but not really. At this point I thought two things: 1) woah does it really work so fast – this is kind of great! and 2) but what if the lining of my womb that had built up to shed now never sheds – where’s it going to go?! So as you can see, I was thinking really clearly.

    Going into it I was determined to have an open mind and not to be paranoid about every tiny little symptom I experienced – yeah, surprise to no one, that lasted about 23 hours when I got a migrainesque headache, the first I’ve had since, well, what do you know, the last time I was on the combined pill! “Keep an open mind, keep an open mind,” I said through gritted teeth as I took the second pill. In the morning, on day three, I was actually relieved to discover that my period had properly started. I was in pain, felt a little nauseous, but I always feel slightly relieved when that happens (for like five minutes, don’t get me wrong) – it’s the fifth vital sign and all that.

    And then Tuesday came. I remember that it was a Tuesday very vividly because every week that’s passed since I’ve noted, “it’s been X weeks since that Tuesday. I survived – I can survive anything.” Fuck me – this is why I haven’t written this blog yet because I am trying really hard to block that day from my mind, but in the name of documentation I will relive the experience. In fact this is the furthest I’ve got writing this story so far (deep breaths). It was, to be frank, the most pain I have ever been in in my life. I was expecting things to get worse before they got better, but I also didn’t know that there was so much more pain yet to be achieved by my period. I was woken up by a regular period pain that just continued to get worse and worse and worse throughout the morning. Painkillers did nothing, moving did nothing, lying still did nothing, hot water bottles did a little but I’m fairly sure I burnt the skin on my belly from using them too much. It eased off at lunch and then returned in the afternoon. Honestly, I feel pretty traumatised by it, even now. I was at a point where I was googling “is it totally ridiculous to go to A&E for period cramps?” and I might’ve even convinced someone to drive me there if I hadn’t been home alone. There was vomit and tears, Bridget Jones and chocolate (usually pre-menstrual treats, not menstrual coping distractions). At the end of that fateful Tuesday I remember feeling as though my body had gone into shock. In hindsight now I’m like, “alright drama queen *eyeroll*” but I am also aware that it was really fucking scary and that I never ever ever want it to happen again to me nor anyone else.

     

    Needless to say, this wasn’t an excellent introduction to life back on the pill. I tried, am trying, really hard not to blame the pill but there’s only so much I can do to stop my brain making the connection between horrible, horrible pain and a drug designed to mess with the affected organs. Like I said, now I’d survived that, I could survive anything. Or so I thought until I realised that THIS PERIOD WAS NEVER GOING TO END. Twenty-two days. I bled, for twenty-two days straight. I know they say to expect “unusual bleeding” when you start the pill but come the fuck on. I decided it probably wasn’t too healthy to wear a menstrual cup for three weeks straight and while I tried my Thinx pants (jury’s still out) I only had one pair, and so I had the delight of wearing sanitary pads for three fucking weeks. Sorry for the profanity but TWENTY-FUCKING-TWO DAYS.

    I was also consistently plagued by a few charming new symptoms during this time. One change that I was not particularly excited about was a change in my breasts, which happened quickly and painfully – I’m talking stretch marks on my tits after just five days. Thankfully they seem to have resettled and calmed down now (hopefully!) The other symptoms have namely been: headaches, migraines, an unexpected jaw ache presumably caused by my habit of stress jaw-grinding, growing pains in my legs (please don’t say I’m still getting taller), the mood swings of a 14 year-old, a generally gloomy demeanour and unexpected creative block. The last three have irritated me the most. Not being able to write, whether caused by the pill or not, has just been incredibly frustrating. The way I would describe it is that it feels like someone is sitting on my head and that I can’t look up to see what’s going on. I’m hoping – by the fact that I’ve finally written this blog, that the person on my head has buggered off, but I will be honest and say that I am not feel overwhelmingly positive about the pill so far.

    Back to the twenty-two day period, if you’re good at period maths, it means that I didn’t actually come off my period until I had finished the first pack of the pill. So again, it was hard not to let my brain process the obvious fact that pill = extension of the world’s worst and longest period. True to form I came on my next bleed two days later but that, and the story of the emergency gynae trip, is a story for another blog.

    Enjoy #Periodically? Read the last update here, or check out my review of Natural Cycles here.

  • Farewell Ovulation – Going Back on the Pill #Periodically 19

    Farewell Ovulation – Going Back on the Pill #Periodically 19

    In news that was both disappointing and not at all unsurprising, my new doctor and I recently agreed that I will be going back on the pill. I’ve known for some time that the pill was likely to be the quickest source of relief for my dysmenorrhea (painful periods), menorrhagia (heavy periods), dyspareunia (painful sexual intercourse) and general pelvic pain, but it was an outcome I wanted to avoid given my experience with the pill in the past. For details read A Tale of Two Pills and #Periodically 13.

    The decision, in the end, wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be. The quickest way for me to get some relief at the moment is to stop ovulating, and the combined pill does just that. Getting the prescription was thought-provoking though:

    Having been on Rigevidon (combined) and Cerelle (mini) in the past my main qualm was that I wanted to try a different dosage or brand this time. Now, because of the sad old state of our NHS, my gynaecology appointment was outsourced privately, so when the doc said I could go on Microgynon I nearly fell off my chair. Microgynon is technically the same as Rigevidon, it’s made up of a synthetic oestrogen and a synthetic progesterone that you take 21 days in a row and then you have a withdrawal bleed for a week – standard pill talk. BUT, Microgynon is the pill many my friends and sisters started on, had no problems with but were unexpectedly taken off of. Many of them have been switched to Rigevidon for no apparent reason. Maybe it’s paranoia but I am very suspicious that Rigevidon is simply cheaper than Microgynon.

    The gynae gave me a two month prescription of Microgynon but it was a private prescription. The doctor recommended I take it to my GP and ask them to refill it so I could get it free on the NHS, since it’s contraception. I am doing exactly this when my GP says, “I’m going to put you on something called Rigevidon, it’s basically the same thing” – I was furious. So I said, “no, it’s going to be Microgynon or nothing, that’s the only reason I agreed to go back on the pill. ” I was ready for a fight, but he quickly said, “OK” and printed out a prescription for six months of Microgynon. I was floored that it was so easy to get what I wanted, which only further makes me suspicious that the problem with Microgynon and Rigevidon is a price one – but, I should add, that is pure speculation (but still, #SaveOurNHS).

    So now I have the prescription the real drama starts. Over two and a half years ago I decided to come off the pill for several reasons. They were mostly because I had ended a relationship and wasn’t looking to get giggy with it, I wanted to try and get my sex drive back and to also get my mind back to something I recognised. I got so much more than I bargained for coming off the pill, good and bad. I got a new lease of life and creativity, my boobs dropped two cup sizes (to my delight), the world literally smelt different, I rediscovered my libido and I started having periods again. But equally, my periods were more painful than I remembered them being before, my skin got worse, I started spending money on sanitary products again and I discovered PMS. At that point in time, the pros outweighed the cons. The psychological benefits I felt coming off the pill were huge, and being able to track all these changes on Clue meant I could exploit them.

    giphy.jpg

    All good things come to an end however, and the last year has offered fresh pre, peri and post menstrual and ovulation symptoms and complications. As I’ve mentioned (a lot, sorry) discovering that sex hurt when it didn’t used to, was a real blow to my relationship with my body (and romantic interests) – what good was it to have my libido back if I couldn’t use it? My periods have left me exhausted and even grumpier than normal because I’ve become anaemic, and I’ve grown at least one hemorrhagic cyst, though there’s a lot of evidence to suggest there have been a few cysts that have been and gone.

    There are a couple of things people have said to me since I found out I would be going back on the pill that I would like to address. I stand by what I’ve said about hormonal birth control in the past – I think it’s shit. There has to be a better way and I am confident there will be soon – I’m talking to you FemTech engineers. Since I am currently the most single and unsexed I have been since adolescence, my reasons for going on the pill at the moment are not for birth control. I still think the pill is a sorry excuse for birth control, one that has brought about both hugely beneficial social changes and immense personal problems. It is a concept that demands lots of criticism. This time, I am going on the pill to deliberately mess with my menstrual cycle in the hope of getting some relief. It might fix my problems, it might just ease my symptoms for a while, it might do nothing, hell, it could even make things worse, but without having more potentially disappointing surgery, it is my only option for now.

    giphy (5).gif

    The other thing I’ve been asked is “do you think you’ll be paranoid about the negatives of the pill this time round, and therefore never give it a fair chance?” I thought so at first, but I am actually feeling really open minded about it. December was a real toughie pain-wise and anything that offers relief is my friend at the moment – it is worth a shot.

    The last two years and seven months have seen twenty-six cycles – something I know thanks to the wonders of Femtech, particularly Clue. I have gotten to know my body in crazy amounts of detail, which has been both a blessing and a curse. I am really sad to be leaving this period (punny) of time behind, but I am going to try and see it as an opportunity. Since I have been tracking my cycles in great detail all this time, I am really going to be able to see the changes, good and bad, that the pill brings – plus, I get to try out Clue’s pill tracking functions for the first time. See, I’m already seeing the bright side.

    I won’t be starting the pill for a couple of weeks, and I have no doubt that the first few months will be a little wild, but in the mean time I’m going to relish the natural peaks and falls of my hormones and look forward to less-pain in the next few months.

    And to end this long (sorry) love letter to my natural menstrual cycle, I would just like to acknowledge that although I have tracked over 100 days of pain medication consumption during the last year or so, I have also tracked over 200 days of feeling happy, so that’s nice.

    Going on the pill means I will be cutting my trial of Natural Cycles short so my review will be coming sooner than planned. Let me know on Twitter what you would like to hear about my experience with Natural Cycles and I’ll try to fit my responses in.