Tag: Female Reproductive Health

  • 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.

  • Review: It’s Only Blood – Anna Dahlqvist #Periodically 25

    Review: It’s Only Blood – Anna Dahlqvist #Periodically 25

    Last week I attended the launch of gender, sexuality and human rights journalist Anna Dahlqvist’s book It’s Only Blood: Shattering the Taboo of Menstruation. The conversations on the night, between Dahlqvist, the founder of Bloody Good Period Gabby Edlin and the audience were interesting enough, but the book itself stands out as an enlightened piece of writing about the profound impact that period taboos, period poverty and poor menstrual hygiene have on menstruators’ lives.

    The book was originally published in Swedish and has been translated into English by literary translator Alice E. Olsson. Olsson was at the launch and discussed the fun (and struggle) of translating some of the menstrual colloquialisms.

    https://www.instagram.com/p/BjJ2uqLFo_-/?taken-by=baraliteblod

    It’s Only Blood is not a list of historical period myths, instead it’s a contemporary assessment of how reinforced menstrual shame continues to cause harm on a monumental scale. “Even though shame and silence are experiences shared by menstruators all over the world, the consequences become far more serious when an additional dimension is introduced: poverty,” Dahlqvist writes.

    The testimonies, many from school girls and activists from Uganda, Kenya, Bangladesh, India, America and Sweden, are combined with Dahlqvist’s research of UN legislation to highlight the fact that inaction when it comes to menstrual hygiene, education and resources means that many human rights are being violated, and yet, there’s a distinct lack of retaliation by politicians. The book is also coloured with Dahlqvist’s personal anecdotes and descriptions, which makes this serious book palatable – it’s rare to get a non-fiction book that you can’t put down.

    “Power over the period is a necessity, a precondition for participation in public life,” Dahlqvist writes, in reference to the serious social and educational issues poor menstrual hygiene can bring about. When school girls don’t have access to running water or locking doors, their options are rather bleak. If they bleed in public they’ll experience immense shame (the weight of which is only heavier when menstrual myths maintain that seeing or touching menstrual blood is bad luck), returning home to secretly clean and change a cloth at lunchtime, avoiding school entirely or hoping, at risk of infection, that one cloth or pad can survive a whole school day. Unsurprisingly, this has a profound and direct impact on their education. The book also explores how, contrary to popular opinion, these problems don’t go away as menstruators leave school.

    One particularly interesting part of It’s Only Blood is the connection Dahlqvist draws attention to between infections, like UTIs and Bacterial Vaginosis, which can be caused by poor menstrual hygiene, with HIV and HPV (leading to Cervical Cancer). Society, including period product providers, encourages menstruators to aspire to be clean and fresh while simultaneously not letting anyone around them know that they are bleeding. With all this shame and secrecy, it’s no surprise then that students in Malawi dry their menstrual protection under their mattresses or that in Bangladesh, one women hides her cloths in the roof, rather than drying them in sterilising sunlight. It’s a public health issue, why aren’t we treating it as such?

    Not only is Dahlqvist’s book intersectional in the stories that it tells, it also covers the intersections of menstrual hygiene with poverty, politics, commercial business and cultural and social stigmas. If you’re already active in combatting period poverty It’s Only Blood will spur you on and if you’re new to the discussion, the book will motivate you to join the ranks. Activists’ stories of feats large and small show how desperately change is needed, but also how in some cases, how little it takes to dramatically improve things.

    It’s Only Blood perfectly showcases how menstrual shame causes problems for everyone and why shattering the taboos will undoubtedly improve individuals’ lives and society in broader terms.

    Buy It’s Only Blood from Wordery by clicking here.

  • Period Product Reviews – Thinx, Clue Premium & Me Luna #Periodically 24

    Period Product Reviews – Thinx, Clue Premium & Me Luna #Periodically 24

    Having a blog of this nature means that I am regularly being asked “have you tried…” and the answer is often “yes”. I’m lucky enough to sometimes be sent things to try out, like Natural Cycles and Thinx, and more oftentimes I buy things out of genuine intrigue. Today I want to write a few short reviews about three period/menstrual cycle products that I’ve been playing with lately.

    Thinx – period-proof pants 

    Technically speaking, Thinx call them “period-proof underwear” but I’m British and I can enjoy that alliteration!

    thinx.jpg

    My first impression was, “they look bloody massive!” And that’s coming from the queen of ginormous pants. Honestly I think it was just because I’m not in the habit of laying out a new pair of pants for a photograph, but what makes them feel bigger is the fact that they are quite substantial. The Thinx site boasts of its four-layer technology including a layer of “moisture-wicking cotton,” whatever that means.

    I’ve heard a lot of good things about period pants and even more about Thinx as a brand itself so I was excited to give ’em a try. Supposedly they can carry up to two tampons worth of blood, impressive. Thinx recommend you either use them solo on lighter days of your period or as back up for a tampon or cup on heavier days. I tried solo on a lighter day first and was immediately alarmed by a smell. Am I doing that TMI thing again? Who cares. There was an odour that I can’t say I am used to, and it wasn’t like that sanitary towel smell you get if you open a draw of pads, it was an unhygienic and unpleasant smell. Funnily enough, I didn’t ask anyone to sniff me to see how noticeable it was, but it was pungent enough to annoy me.

    Rinsing them is no ickier than rinsing out a menstrual cup and after that you just throw them in the wash and air dry them. I was disappointed that after the first wash there were a couple of threads pulling away from the waistband but it hasn’t affected how they feel which is undoubtedly more comfortable than a sanitary towel. The next time I tried them as a back up to a cup and they worked really well. There was still a smell but not nearly as potent.

    Conclusion: I love the idea of having a totally waste-free period but I’m not sure I’m sold on period pants after this experience. I’m open minded though and as always, I think it’s a step in the right direction! Also heads up, it’s a US company and I had to pay import tax before I could collect the package, but this might be because I didn’t pay shipping since the company sent them to me for free. 

    Clue *Premium* 

    Well this is what they called it when I purchased it but that word seems to have disappeared now. It seems it’s now a “Clue Membership”.

    We know I love Clue. As a menstrual cycle tracking app I have raved about it since my second menarche (I know that’s not actually a thing). I don’t think #Periodically would exist without it. I’m even a Clue Ambassador.  I do wonder if what I’m about to write might get me kicked out of that club. I hope it doesn’t because I think part of an ambassador’s job is to raise any red flags.

    Last summer it became pretty clear that Clue were looking for ways to make money, fair enough. The app is so clean and lovely that it would’ve been a shame to see it riddled with adverts or if they’d started selling users’ data to third party companies. So they announced they were going to introduce some paid features into the app – Clue Premium. I defended the decision at the time. Clue has served me well for a long time, I was, am, happy to support the company in all the good it’s doing. Until I saw how much they were charging. In the UK, if you want to pay month-by-month it will cost £9.99 each month. To pay for six months in one go it’s £31.99 and for a year it’s £42.99. That’s bonkers. One of the main reasons I’m trying menstrual cups and period pants is to save money on my period. Now I’ve got that money back, I’m hardly likely to invest £40 a year on my period all over again. However, Clue promised that everything that was available on the app before Premium would still be available on the free version of the app.

    So what extra features could Clue possibly introduce to justify £40 a year?  When Premium was rolled out to everyone, it made itself known by sending notifications every now and then saying “you have a new Forecast today,” and when you tried to view the forecast it would ask you to pay. Again, fair enough. So I paid for a month. I was very sceptical, but I wanted to see if it was worth £9.99. The notifications stopped. Every time I clicked the forecast button I was told “we can’t see your Forecast yet. Track your health everyday so Clue can provide a personal Forecast.” “The more you track, the smarter Clue gets,” it told me. Let’s be clear, I input an incredible amount of data into Clue every day. In fact, I’ve just checked and the last time I didn’t track was in March 2017. I have tracked upwards of 20 different categories daily for over a year, and more sporadically almost three years. If Clue can’t create a Forecast from my abundance of data, whose can they?

    An entire cycle went by without a single forecast. I was ten quid down, nothing up and pretty pissed off. And then, a couple of days before my subscription was ending I got a forecast, and then proceeded to get it for a few days. At the end of the second day of my period it told me that today and tomorrow I could expect to feel focussed. That figures, it’s something I’ve noticed thanks to Clue and that I try to exploit. It had some interesting information about hormones and asked me to confirm if I was focussed, both good things but it was pretty anti-climatic.

    I reached out Clue half way through my trial to check I was doing everything right, they were as friendly as ever and explained that, “we’re currently working on improving the algorithm which shows Forecasts, so that it can pick up more from the patterns the user has tracked. Keep an eye out for improved forecasts (and additional Premium features) that will be launching in the next month or so.” Typically, the day my subscription ended there was an app update which included notification of your cycle going out of range as a new Premium/Membership perk.

    Conclusion: Maybe I need to give it a longer trial but honestly I cannot justify spending more money on an app reading data for me when the app makes it so easy to read in the first place. This might be the problem with Clue Premium; the free app is so good that it’s difficult to imagine what premium features they could make worth the money. Forecasting is an interesting idea, but as it is now, it is not worth £42.99 a year. I think it was wrong for Clue to charge so much for so little so early on.

    *Update!*

    Me Luna Menstrual Cups

    Me Luna is the only cup brand I’ve tried but it hasn’t given me a reason to look elsewhere.

    meluna

    I’ve talked about my early experience with a menstrual cup in way too much graphic detail, but I haven’t really mentioned it since. I started with a soft Me Luna cup and while I think it was right for learning how to use it and going easy on my messed up reproductive system, I was still having some issues with leaking and wanted to master the art.

    So I upped the anti and ordered a classic cup, which was terrifyingly rigid in comparison to the soft cup. And yet, since I’ve found my fold (#FindYourFold) it wasn’t an issue, in fact, it was an improvement. I find it never moves out of place any more, it pops open easier and I only leak when I am extraordinarily heavy, which is a rarer occurrence now I’m on the pill. I do notice my internal pain issues a little more with the firmer cup, but only on insertion – once it’s in there are no issues.

    On a slightly ickier note, this time I got a dark blue one and I’ve found that staining is far less of a problem compared to the pale cup of my past.

    Conclusion: I can’t fault my Me Luna cup. I feel like I’d already fallen in love with the art of menstrual cupping but changing to a firmer cup has only made me love it more.

    Let me know what you think if you’ve tried any of these products or if there’s anything you think I should try, get in touch: @Hilarysaysblaah