Maybe it’s because the idea of pain management came up directly after a flare-up, or maybe it’s because the drugs were actually working, but about six weeks into my trial with the low-dose anti-depressant amitriptyline, in an attempt to reduce my pain, I began to feel like this pain management route wasn’t for me. I sat on it for a couple of weeks and it wasn’t a decision I took lightly ā I was well aware that maybe I was feeling like I didn’t need the drugs because the drugs were working. Except that wasn’t true at all, I was still in pain.
The only noticeable difference was that my bizarre dreams, which I’ve always had a lot of, all became nightmares. I’ve heard that anti-depressants can mess with your dreams or stop them completely, the latter is a pretty scary idea for me. As a writer, I need my imagination to be relatively unhinged and out of control. The nightmares I can handle, but the idea that upping the dosage might mean I stop dreaming at all did not sit well with me.
I knew if I went to my GP and said, “no I haven’t noticed any difference in my pain,” then her response would be to up the dose, as is standard procedure. But the very notion of how anti-depressants work as a means of pain management has bothered me ever since my GP first mentioned the idea. She said she was prescribing them, “essentially, to stop you feeling pain.”
As nice of an idea that is, I don’t consider it to be a practical long-term solution, especially when I feel like there are still stones that have been left unturned (i.e. urology). Plus I don’t want toĀ stop feeling anything, I just want toĀ be in less pain, if that makes sense?
I’ve now started with a psychosexual counsellor who is trying to make it dawn on me that my chronic pain may well be just that ā chronic. I’m not too hot on accepting this “truth” just yet, but because of it, pain management is definitely something I shouldn’t shy away from. I need it for the sake of my mood, my work and my relationships (of all natures), but I think I’d rather open my world up to alternative pain management options before I put all my eggs in the amitriptyline basket.
I discussed this with my GP and she agreed that it sounded like prescription pain management wasn’t the right course for me yet after all, and has insteadĀ finallyĀ granted my wish and referred me to a urologist. This means a lot to me ā I’ve had issues with UTIs, my bladder and kidneys since I was two and while none of my current doctors are wildly convinced it’s got anything to do with my pain, for me, it feels like a really obvious path to explore. Here’s to owning your own health journeyĀ within the NHS!
The pelvic pain that these blogs have been documenting has forced me to give up several things that I took for granted in the past. One of them, some of you will know, is running.
FourĀ years ago now (where the hell did they go?!) I got drunk, fell down some stairs and signed up for the London Marathon 2015. It was the start of a pretty unconventional “fitness journey.” I somehow taught myself to run, trained for a marathon and completed my first marathon a year to the day after my first run. I wasn’t fast, but I had become something I had always feared: a runner.
2015
As much as I said “never again” after London, when the charity Worldwide Cancer Research asked if I wanted to run another marathon, this time in Paris, I couldn’t resist saying yes.
“It was a mistake for many reasons,” I usually say at this point in the story. Not because I got seriously injured or anything, but because the Paris Marathon was hot, gruelling work – this time I really meant it when I said, “never again”.
So after the Paris Marathon in 2016, I found myself with a new luxury at my disposal: running for fun. The entire time I’d been running it had been part of some grand marathon training plan, but as I moved backed to Swansea for my final year of university I had the freedom to run for however long or far I wanted to.
Much to my surprise, I did continue to run. But never very far. I was just popping out for a mile run, it wasn’t exactly hard work but it was really nice. After a few months, I started to try and push it up a bit more, branching out to two miles or, god forbid, three. That’s when I started noticing a new pain, one that I associated with my period and, by this point, sex. No matter how much I stretched or how much water I drank this pain would show up around the half-mile mark and become unbearable over a mile. So I stopped running.
Problem is, I didn’t start doing anything else with my body and consequently managed to age about 37 years in the process. Until…
It was actually my counsellor who sent me in the direction of Fitness in Mind, which makes a lot of sense. I’ve lost complete control of my body and exercise is a big part of that. Fitness in Mind is a unique space where physical activity and peer support are combined to help people get into or back into exercise, particularly if they’ve been struggling with problems elsewhere in their life. It’s run by several sports clubs across the country, and lucky for me, the Brentwood Centre happens to be one of them. Even more amazing than that, the 12-week course of daily exercise classes isĀ free.
It was exactly what I needed, right when I needed it. I joined in week two and have been doing yoga and Mixed Martial Arts for the last eleven weeks. I struggled a lot with the Machu Picchu trek last year, but a successful ski trip in March left me with fresh hope that maybe exercise was less likely to hurt now. If I’m totally honest, I was expecting to discover that exercise didn’t actually cause any pain, that I’d just imagined it as an excuse to mooch about. When the gentlest of yoga stirred up the pain in my side, I was pretty gutted – I hadn’t imagined it after all. But I carried on, crucially I didn’t “push through the pain” because in my situation that could potentially involve a ruptured cyst, but instead I did what every instructor and activator on the programme told us to do, “listen to your body and do what you can.” So I pushed myself in yoga but never to the edge and I did everything in MMA except the kicking (which my body immediately said “no” to). It’s so obvious and so simple, but there was something really nice about having someone else tell me that.
Surprise to no one, given the new sensitive version of Hilary I’ve become on the pill, I found the first few weeks quite challenging and not just physically. First at the discovery that exercise still hurt and then at the realisation that it wasn’t the end of the world. I wasn’t blubbing in the middle of yoga, but it was nice to know that I could have if I needed to – there was always peer support on hand. I’m still not “over it” but I think part of the last few weeks has been me realising that for whatever reason, fair or not, I’m no longer a runner. I hope that’s not a permanent fact, but it is what it is for now.
2017
The yoga has been so rewarding. After surgery on my abdomen last summer, I got out of the habit of using my core and have completely ignored it since. It hurt reawakening those muscles but I feel better and stronger for it. The MMA has been a laugh. I am no good at it, that’s for sure, but it’s been incredibly cathartic to hit a bunch of things for an hour a week.
What makes this course what it is is undoubtedly the people. Participants and leaders alike – everyone just made it the safest space with zero judgment and zero stress. It was just a calm environment that allowed me to forge a much-needed new relationship with my body. Sure, I got a concession card at the end of the programme that gives me access to cheaper classes, but that is just a tiny perk in comparison to rest of this course’s benefits. It’s no secret that Brentwood has a fairly ageing population and admittedly I was one of the younger participants on the course but that only made the experience better. I met some incredibly interesting and patient people, none of whom made the assumption that because I was younger I could do more. There was no competition.
However, I can’t believe how few people my age are using this amazing resource.Ā Millenials of Brentwood, do you know that Fitness in Mind exists? Well, now you do. The next programme starts on July 2, sign up here or find out more on their Facebook page.Ā
I haven’t lost a million pounds or transformed my body but I have had several overdue epiphanies, regained some strength and made some amazing friends. After a year of doing nothing more than walk the dog, that’s a huge achievement.
Thank you Fitness in Mind for all your help!Ā š
Right first of all, some truths, disclaimers, apologies etc. Since I started the pill,Ā 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. IĀ knewĀ 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 butĀ 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 hadĀ properlyĀ 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 TuesdayĀ very vividly because every week that’s passed since I’ve noted, “it’s been X weeks sinceĀ thatĀ 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.
After two years of dealing with incredibly painful periods, my body today revealed that it can still get SO MUCH WORSE. Itās been a rough day but Iām feeling much better now. The human body is a weird and wonderful thing. #notTMI#Periodically#dysmenorrhea
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 survivedĀ that,Ā I could surviveĀ anything.Ā 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’mĀ stillĀ 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.
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