Tag: Female Sexuality

  • Conversations with doctors that shouldn’t have happened #Periodically 4

    Conversations with doctors that shouldn’t have happened #Periodically 4

    I have been very lucky with the doctor who’s been helping me sort my uterus out in Swansea, and it’s a little daunting that whatever happens now I’m going to have to figure it all out without Dr H now I’m back in Essex. Regardless, there are a couple of conversations that have happened with both Dr H, my GP, and Dr M, my gynaecologist, that I’m not sure are entirely fair. Disclaimer: I will be paraphrasing for comedic effect here, unless you want my full um-ing and ah-ing while I tried not to rage cry at them…

    A lot of the reasons I feel the conversations are inappropriate is because I don’t think they would have happened at all if I was a man. If I was a man enduring horrible pain during sex, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be told to ‘keep trying other positions,’ ‘take ibuprofen before sex’ or pump my body full of hormones that also directly impact my sex drive. The truth is there would likely be a solution, simply because while men were figuring out how to fix their penises, for a long time research into female sexuality was often limited to hysteria, ‘wandering womb’ and childbirth. That said, the uterverse is a lot more complicated that the male reproductive system and so our understanding of it was always going to take a bit longer.

     

    “Yes, but if it didn’t hurt on the pill, then you should go back on”

    I’ve had a troublesome past with the contraceptive pill, both the combined and mini. So when Dr M asked ‘did sex hurt when you were on the pill’ and I said no, he said, ‘ah well there’s the solution then’. I calmly pointed out that things also weren’t bad before I was on the pill. The plan he was suggesting sounded to me like a mask solution, and that any serious problems I was dealing with would return if I ever came off the pill to, say, reproduce. I would prefer to deal with this situation now, rather than ten years down the road when it’s too late to be a surrogate for my sister because of a defunct uterus.

    “What would you say if all I can offer you is either no libido or painful sex?”

    The mini pill destroyed my sex drive. Physically and psychologically there was no ‘desire’ (read moisture) for sex. So when Dr M put this ultimatum before me I was a bit lost for words. Are these really the only options I have? Not wanting to have sex but possibly being able to, or wanting to have sex but not being able to? Pretty slim pickings if you ask me. It makes one ask, when will female sexual pleasure begin to be as important as male sexual pleasure?

    Me: “I actually ended a relationship because of this” Dr H: “OMG well we’ll expedite your appointment then”

    After several months of waiting for a gynae appointment and with things getting progressively worse, I visited Dr H and explained. She said there was nothing she could do until I’d seen the gynae. She asked how I was doing otherwise and I mentioned how honestly ‘it was making life a bit shit’. I subtly mentioned that I had ended a relationship because of it and suddenly, as if this was a new sign of the severity of my situation, she was able to write a letter and expedite my appointment, as well as book me in for an ultrasound. I received my gynae letter two days later and had a scan within a fortnight. Call me picky, but I kind of wanted my doctors help for me and my body, not for my love life.

  • Subtle signs that my repro health ain’t healthy #Periodically 3

    Subtle signs that my repro health ain’t healthy #Periodically 3

    Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, specifically the app Clue, I have every cycle that I’ve had in the last three and a half years tracked with excessive detail. But hang on, the maths doesn’t quite add up… three years is 42 months… and I’ve only had 18 cycles… right well there’s warning sign number one – irregular periods. Throughout this blog I’ll illustrate a couple of points with information from my Clue which is almost definitely a gross overshare but hey, here we go.

    Remarkably, my quest for treatment began during the last year where I have, for the first time ever, had a natural and regular cycle. But, with my period finally having regulated to a monthly cycle, it made all the symptoms I had been experiencing over a long period of time, condense into a month. Highlighting their severity and increasing their impact.

    Acne is the most obvious, but my sisters and my mother have/had normal cycles and acne long into adulthood. It was only once I became very aware of horrible chin acne during the same point in every cycle that I noticed it was, at least, hormonal acne.

    Painful and heavy periods have gone hand in hand since menarche (my first period). The more pain I’m in then the heavier I tend to be bleeding. This, has over the years, often resulted in at least two days of doubling up tampons with sanitary pads, frequent changes and dozens of destroyed pyjamas and bedsheets… (I’m still waiting for that TMI filter to kick in). This has become easier to manage with a menstrual cup, if only it could cure the pain too – so far, only ibuprofen can do that. One thing that put me off seeking advice was that I was ‘running’ a lot and irregular periods and even amenorrhea (disappearance of periods) can be caused by frequent exercise, especially running. However, when I say ‘run’ I mean a light jog that usually turns into a long walk and I think it is highly unlikely that my shoddy exercise habits had anything to do with anything. Here you can see how my cramps and painkiller use have increased over time.

    Ovulation pain is something I’ve only experienced during the last ten months or so, but while it seems to be somewhere in the vicinity of my ovaries it isn’t as strict time wise. It now is a pain I experience three out of four weeks of my cycle, particularly when I step on my right leg.

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    An indication that my ovulatory pain must be something more sinister was that I couldn’t be ovulating this often…

    Random cramping, leg pain and fatigue are a few new dramas to deal with three out of four weeks of my cycle, particularly if I run. The leg pain is particularly strange as it is a bit like growing pains but in my upper thighs. Over the last four months in particular, lethargy has begun to accompany pain – though whether I’m tired because I’m in pain or whether the fatigue is coming from somewhere else, I do not know. I am a pretty lethargic person anyway so it’s taken a big move in my energy levels for me to notice.

    Back pain is something I’ve dealt with since I was about eleven and I actually think might have been the earliest sign. I remember my mum taking me to the doctors and chiropractors to try and ease this dull achey pain in my lower back, particularly when standing for a long time, but nothing ever worked. When I started my period four years later, it was weird to find that this pain that had plagued me for so long, was now part of my period pain every ‘month’.

    There are a few other things, some that I’ve discussed in my last blog like pain during sex and constipation before my period and after sex, and some that I’ve only experienced rarely or recently like occasional bleeding during/after sex and spotting. 

    Thanks for sticking with #Periodically thus far. I’m excited, now that I’ve got all the depressing symptoms and nitty gritty details out of the way, I can really delve in and write about what happens now and why more attention needs to be paid to reproductive and sexual health. 

     

  • Am I hysterical, an oversharer, ill or all of the above? #Periodically 1

    Am I hysterical, an oversharer, ill or all of the above? #Periodically 1

     

    I am a chronic oversharer. Sometimes this is good, but online I am very anxious about what I share and where I share it. Cyber-awareness is really, really important. The internet is such a great tool for sharing thoughts and ideas, and over the last few years I have really enjoyed blogging – but I’m always very careful to keep it relatively impersonal by writing about marathon training, my year abroad or, currently, reading. I’ve restricted my blogs with tight boundaries in the hopes of stopping myself from falling into the temptation of revealing too much about my personal life.

    But blogging is personal. I’ve written journals on and off since I was eleven and consistently since I was sixteen, but there comes a point when you want to share some of those thoughts and ideas. Some of the best blogs I’ve read have been born from the writer finding solace in a difficult situation by writing about it – a tale as old as time, right? One of my favourite examples being my dad’s brilliant cancer blog: Man vs Breast Cancer.

    For a couple of years now, I have been dealing with issues with my reproductive health. As we know there remain dozens of various stigmas and taboos around the subject of periods and female sexuality that would justify my silence over the subject, besides, for many people who menstruate, it is a very personal thing. But the other problem, perhaps the most difficult, is knowing when you’re making a fuss about nothing. Periods hurt, periods aren’t always pleasant, sex isn’t always good, pain is subjective and human bodies are not intelligently designed, they are flawed.

    According to a study from January 2017, painful sex is reported by 7.5% of women in Britain, and is linked to ‘poorer sexual, physical, relational and mental health’. Painful and heavy periods are also a common complaint among women all over the world – how and why is my pain any different? Is it?

    I’ve been in cahoots with my doctor about period, sex, post-sex and general everyday abdominal pain for nine months. I had, of course, diagnosed myself with several things on the internet; polycystic ovaries, fibroids, endometriosis, etc. Luckily, my GP has been brilliant. We swiftly ruled out polycystic ovaries, fibroids have never been mentioned, but the word ‘endometriosis’ kept being thrown about. My *sometimes* retroverted uterus added to suspicions and so I began the wait to see a gynaecologist. An ultrasound and a couple of pelvic exams (they’re a treat, aren’t they?) later and I’ve been on the waiting list for a diagnostic laparoscopy (keyhole surgery) for four months now.

    My doctors have both made it very clear to me; it sounds like it’s endometriosis – but there is a very high chance that it is not. The gynae also made it pretty clear that if it isn’t endometriosis then there’s not really *anything* else it could be. This had a huge influence in my decision not write publicly about it.

    There are two problems with this choice of inaction. On average it takes 7.5 years for someone to be diagnosed with endometriosis. I can’t keep my mouth shut for that long, are you mad? I don’t want to write about it after the fact, because after the fact might not be for a long time. I want to write about it while it is happening. The other problem is that if I don’t have endometriosis, it might be the end of the story for my doctor – but what about me? Just because in a couple of months someone might say to me ‘good news, it’s not endo’ does not mean that any of my pain, that has increased week-on-week for the last year, is going to stop.

    There is a hole in research about the female body, female reproductive health and female sexuality. This hole in the research is something which really interests me, and I see it undoubtedly occupying many of my writing ventures over the coming years. My fascination with the subject has wormed its way into every aspect of my writing recently, in almost every academic essay, its presence in my creative writing and as a theme throughout the books I’ve been blogging about on Fictitiously Hilary. I worry about what happens when we give young girls very little information about what is and isn’t normal about menstruation and sex, especially when our understanding of it remains limited.

    I don’t want to just document my experience, but I want to be involved in normalising conversations about the most intimate aspects of our bodies and our relationships and how the two are inherently connected. Until I manage to land a job that allows me to do this full time, for now I would love to occasionally use the platform of this blog to discuss what change is needed and how we can bring it about.

    Whatever happens when I have the diagnostic surgery, it is not going to be the end, it is more likely to open up one of two outcomes. Option one: how serious the endometriosis is, whether it’s a quick fix or a more complicated process. Option two: what the hell is wrong with my body then, because something ain’t right.

    Periods should not be debilitating and sex should not have to hurt. These are two things that I am dealing with at the moment and I can’t not talk about it – it’s important. It’s important because I know I’m not the only one.

    The App Clue is something that has undeniably helped me get as far as I have with my ‘diagnosis’ but having recently become a Clue Ambassador I am increasingly aware, thanks to the stories of other ambassadors, about the alarming levels of pain and discomfort people with uteruses are putting up with and have been putting up with since the dawn of time.

    I am nervous about sharing this, because I can’t shake the guilt that I might be making a fuss over nothing when others are really suffering. But at the same time, I am so fascinated and excited by what should be a revolutionary couple of decades in the understanding of female health, that I cannot turn my head and I cannot put my pen down. Trusting your body when it tells you that something is wrong is really important. Given how little we understand the female body, it is perfectly possible that people with uteruses who are turned away by doctors are suffering from conditions that haven’t yet been discovered. But the funding won’t go to the relevant research until we start having conversations about what is happening behind bathroom and bedroom doors.

    One thing I’ve discovered over the last year is that when you start talking about your concerns about your reproductive and sexual health, others start sharing their experiences. Sometimes this reassures you that you’re ‘normal’, other times it brings out other issues that you are flabbergasted no one is talking about. There are obviously people that really do not want to talk about it, and that’s OK, but for those of us that do – let’s crack on.

    I have essays and journal entries with all the nitty gritty details about my experiences so far that I would be willing to share. For now though, this post is just to test the water, to gauge the reaction, to see how many times I’m called hysterical or scolded for TMI. Or, alternatively, whether there is indeed a conversation here to be had.

    Please, if you’re interested in more blogs like this or on this subject, don’t be shy.