Tag: NHS

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.

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.

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.

January 23, 2018
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.

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’.

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.

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.

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.

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.

For now though: walkies, reading and puppy snugs!

August 22, 2017
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.

July 13, 2017