Tag: Menstrual cup

  • 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.

  • Good news, bad news & speculation #Periodically 10

    Good news, bad news & speculation #Periodically 10

    Know that feeling of relief when you worry about a worst case scenario but when push comes to shove everything is OK? I do, I had it for about half an hour after my surgery, but that was all.

    Last week my lovely mum managed to get me to Swansea, operated on and back to Essex in 27 hours. It was my last rendez-vous with the Welsh NHS system (that I already miss) and it was a diagnostic laparoscopy – keyhole surgery to look for signs of endometriosis on my uterus. My biggest fear, as I discussed last week, was that the doctors would tell me that there was ‘nothing’ wrong.

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    A whole bay to myself

    We arrived at the hospital bright and early at 7:30am and they promptly told me I was first on the list of two – thank you summer holidays! I was actually relieved to find myself in pain on this particular morning. By my logic, if it was causing me pain then they would be able to see whatever was causing it in action. My anaesthetist Dr G and his student came to see me first – they were super friendly and informative throughout the whole day. Then Dr M’s registrar, so my second gynae, who I hadn’t met before showed up and we rewrote my consent form and ran through what was going to happen. They would go in for a look, if there was nothing I would only have the one incision, if there was anything wrong it could be up to four. Then I got to see Dr M who would be performing the laparoscopy. He is not a man of many words, our second and final meeting was brief.

    Gowned, naked and exposed I was wheeled down to the prep room where people stuck various things to me and in me while asking what I write about – “female health, actually!” Dr G was hosting an A level student and so everything was explained above me as they administered painkillers and then anaesthetic to my cannula, before Dr G said “see you in half an hour – or an hour if we find anything! Think of nice dreams now and you’ll wake up to nice things’.

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    Gowned, naked, exposed and HOPEFUL

    ‘OK’ I thought, ‘I’ll dream of a diagnosis…’

    Opening my eyes in recovery I immediately clocked (literally) that it had been over an hour. First shot of relief. The nurse was asking me questions but I had zero interest in them so I immediately asked ‘how many holes?’ Understandably confused she asked what I meant, to which I very eloquently clarified ‘how many pokey holes?’ while pointing at my belly. She lifted my blanket and gown and confirmed, ‘two pokey holes’. Second shot of relief. ‘Looks like you’ve had a couple of cysts removed, love’ were her next words. TWELVE SHOTS OF RELIEF.

    Cysts! I can handle cysts. I’ve tested negative for polycystic ovaries so if it’s just a couple of cysts that might rectify everything. This was the best case scenario! Hurrah! Contented with relief I now answered her actual questions. Yes, I did feel sick, but only because I’d had a breathing aid down my throat. Yes, I would like some pain relief. No, I didn’t have a headache. She then handed me and my file to my ward manager Viv with the words ‘she’s had a cyst removed’. Hmm, ‘cyst’ singular this time. First shot of doubt.

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    Cysts? No cysts? Who cares when you’re this good looking?

    Wheeled back to my mum I said ‘cyst! Or cysts! I’m not sure’. Then it was my mums turn for relief, she also knew that in this case no news was not necessarily good news. She called my dad and let my sisters know what was going on while we waited for the gynaes to come and talk to us. I was in a fair bit of pain at this point, but it seemed, it was worth it. And then in marched the gynaecological registrar, no Dr M. I smiled at him, waiting for confirmation that I wasn’t insane. ‘So the surgery all went well, we didn’t find any endometriosis. There was a 2cm cyst but obviously that’s just a normal ovulation cyst. So yeah, good news really because nothing’s wrong, bad news because we don’t know what’s causing your pain’.

    Oh.

    So I didn’t have any cysts removed. But I did have a cyst, an ovulation cyst. I’m ovulating. I could’ve bloody told them that from Clue which had already notified me of that very fact. I just frowned at my mum while she asked actual questions. I was, am, gutted. ‘Whatever it is, it’s not gynaecological,’ he informed us. Apparently, after everything, my uterus is a ‘nice and healthy looking uterus’. Even my ovaries are in the right place.

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    Alive, but unimpressed

    Worried about my risk of clots on the drive back to Essex, Dr G ordered a blood thinner, but otherwise, a few more painkillers and lunch and we were on the road by 2pm. I love lasagne and rice pudding, but they only marginally cheered me up.

    A few days on, I’ve had time to process and I am realising how grateful I should be that whatever the problem is, it doesn’t lie in my reproductive health. Maybe whatever is wrong will be more treatable than the unknown entity of endo. But I am equally disillusioned with the idea of having to start this entire process all over again, in Essex of all places where GP appointments are much harder to come by than in Swansea. #ToryBritain.

    It is difficult to go through such an invasive procedure and to be none the wiser afterwards. Endometriosis needs an easier diagnosis method. I knew that before, but if there had been a less invasive way to rule endo out of the equation, it would have saved a lot of heartache. Not receiving a diagnosis initially felt like I needed to just bounce back, having wasted everyone’s time. But I have had two pokey holes poked, and the hope being taken as quickly as it was given has left me with a bit of emotional whiplash. Besides, the surgery didn’t reveal nothing. I know now that this pain isn’t gynaecological and that my reproductive health is in fact, healthy – though it would be nice if I could actually use it. What pain I do have is calmed down by paracetamol but is noticeably worse in the evenings.

    Physical recovery wise, I’m starting to feel good. I’m sleepy, moany and achey but I’m walking around and irritating my family with little hindrance. During a diagnostic laparoscopy they fill your abdomen up with carbon dioxide, which has left for some interesting bloating. The wounds are seemingly healing well but the area is very sore and my belly button no longer looks like my belly button. It looks a bit like they’ve untied it and then retied it differently. I’ve had some vaginal bleeding but nothing major. I was shocked back into sanitary towel usage when I discovered a pad literally wedged between my legs after surgery. They assure me tampons and cups will be fine to use for my next period though.

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    Proof that they really fill and tie you up like a balloon…

    Chances are, if it’s not my womb then it’s probably my bladder or bowel. Already, my right side, where most of my ‘period/ovulation’ pain is focussed, has swollen and is much more painful than the left following the surgery, meaning I’m still very suspicious of the area. I daren’t speculate, especially since the registrar, who made a point of saying he would not speculate, proceeded to speculate far enough to suggest I might need to go gluten-free (The horror!) I have had a plethora of bladder issues from the age of two till eleven, that restarted around the age of eighteen, so I think we will first explore the bladder.

    What for this blog then, you ask? Well I think things are likely to get less menstrual (though who are we kidding, probably not). Whatever the problem is, it is either worsening or being worsened by my menstrual cycle so I don’t think we’re done there. But while we wait for hospitals, doctors, practices and two countries to sort their shit out transferring and referring me, I think it’s likely that these blogs might begin to take up the other meaning of Periodically – in that they will occur from time to time.

    Thank you everyone for the well wishes over the past couple of weeks. Even if it’s reluctant, I’m looking forward to exploring yet another part of my body in the hope of a future with a bit less pain.

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    For now though: walkies, reading and puppy snugs!

     

  • 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