Tag: period pain

  • 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.

  • Persistence – #Periodically 17

    Persistence – #Periodically 17

    Long time no #Periodically, but don’t fear I’m back with another exciting instalment of “WTF is happening in Hilary’s pelvis” – I’m sure you were all anxiously waiting.

    So we left off with the discovery of two cysts, one functional (good), one hemorrhagic (bad) on my right ovary. The protocol is to wait six weeks to see if they go or grow. I also had a blood test taken the day after the first internal ultrasound and was informed there was something in those blood results that I needed to see a doctor about, but typically (#ToryBritain) the first available appointment was six weeks away. Conveniently though, it was scheduled for the day after the follow up ultrasound.

    I had a couple of really rough weeks in the middle of the wait for “answers”. I was both stressing about what was wrong with my blood (who tests for PCOS and Ovarian Cancer, says something’s wrong but doesn’t tell you what?!), dealing with a sudden and random horrible outbreak of acne and a flare-up of top-notch pain. I was pretty miserable company for a fortnight (sorry friends and family – thank you for not disowning me).

    Let’s throw it back to November 2016 for a second, where the first blood results I had to search for a problem revealed nothing. I did have slightly higher levels of androgens (male hormones) than normal, but nothing that warranted suspicion of PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome). So when they found the cysts and something in my blood this November, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just noticed symptoms of PCOS really early, and the androgens were now at a higher level and had been picked up in my blood. So what does any sane person do in this situation? I GOOGLED. I’m actually glad I did as I quickly learnt the surprising fact that despite the name, polycystic ovaries does not involve many cysts. It involves much smaller bubbles of fluid that grown on the ovaries in abundance. I don’t have that, so I relaxed. But my hairy disposition and sudden acne break out didn’t help calm my PCOS suspicions.

    Now because life is cruel, the six weeks came around and I was due on my period the exact same day as the internal ultrasound. While offering some potential technical problems, it also meant I was super on edge as I tried to suppress my PMS in the hope of postponing my period (this actually worked remarkably well but it also postponed and intensified my PMS, would not recommend). The internal ultrasound goes smoothly albeit painfully, and the sonographer immediately says “oooooh no,” as she sees that the hemorrhagic cyst is still there. “That should have gone,” she said. Problem is, it didn’t grow either, which, she explained, means it’s unlikely I will be referred for any kind of treatment. So I have a “persistent hemorrhagic cyst”.

    The next day I show up bright, early and menstruating for my blood test results. Happily, it was nothing too serious, just that my iron levels are a tiny bit low, which is consistent with having too heavy periods. Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen this doctor before, and having to explain all my symptoms all over again mid the hormonal meltdown I was having, resulted in some really attractive sobbing as I explained the last few years of pills, pain and frustration. This sobbing only worsened when she informed me that contrary to what I’d been told, Dr C never actually got around to referring me to a gynae in Essex. I explained to her that a big part of my frustration is that in 2015 I ran a marathon, in 2016 I ran a marathon but in 2017 I need a lie down after a dog walk. Not being able to have sex isn’t great either obviously, but exercise is a really great way of feeling like you have some control over your body, it’s difficult losing that control.

    However, the sobbing seems to have worked as Dr E has referred me to a local hospital, which should be quicker, and like the God she clearly is, she gave me something. I remain a little perplexed that no one has ever even offered me the medication she prescribed before, as its literal purpose is lightening menstrual flow and potentially easing period pain. It’s non-hormonal and I take it only when I’m on – pixie dust, clearly (Mefenamic Acid IRL). I can’t say I’ve noticed a huge difference thus far, but my period pain has been a little more manageable. I can’t take ibuprofen with it, which makes me nervous that if it doesn’t work then my main source of pain relief is out the window, but we’ll give it a good ol’ college try.

    FullSizeRender
    The latest venture.

    There are lots of frustrating things about this situation, but the two I’ve learnt this week are that the combined pill might stop the cysts from growing in the first place but that no doctor wants to put me on it because of DVT and breast cancer risk factors. The other is that both the sonographer and Dr E’s response to my pain outside of my period has been to say, “yes, sometimes cysts can be painful”. Trying to communicate to them that whatever is causing my pain, cyst or otherwise, is really painful often is proving difficult.

    So with a bit of persistence, like the pesky cyst, I’ve managed to get something to help with period pain, iron tablets that should help with sleepiness, and hopefully a decent and quick referral. It’s not exactly good news, but it’s something.

    Confused? Start the saga from the beginning here. 

  • Articulating Pain #Periodically 11

    Articulating Pain #Periodically 11

    I think I have always been quite a moany person. When I was little I would moan about going to summer camp or after school club. As I got older I moaned about maths and music lessons. Then I started moaning about redundant news stories in prime time spots, the patriarchy and inequality, Brexit, tuition fees. Last week I was moaning about how annoying people were for moaning about Big Ben going quiet.

    I’ve also, from time to time, moaned about pain. I remember following my mum around the supermarket when I was eleven or so, complaining about a dull achey back ache. I moaned about the same pain when I started my period a few years later. I moaned about it even more when I started working at pizza delivery chains and the pain would present itself after an hour or so of a five hour standing shift.

    I have a family full of aches and pains. Moaning about back ache or knee pain is pretty normal business for us. Remarkably, given I have two older sisters, moaning about period pain wasn’t much of a thing in our house (until I hit puberty, that is). I remember texting my mum under the desk in French class the day after I started my period saying ‘I think I have period pain’ and she said ‘try to move around’. An answer I found very unhelpful at the beginning of double French.

    My friends say I moaned about my periods at sixth form. I can’t say I remember that – but it does sound like me. When I started university I was having monthly periods for the first time because of the pill, and that definitely made me more aware of my periods and the pain that accompanied them. I remember paracetamol, hot water bottles and bean bags becoming monthly essentials.

    Then of course I stopped having periods. I won’t go into that again. For the ‘fun’ of that adventure read A Tale of Two Pills.

    Fast forward a year and a half and I’m in Clermont-Ferrand, France. I’ve been off of the pill for three weeks and my boobs suddenly hurt. I moan about it and my parents and, quite rightly, tell me they don’t care. A week later I have my menarche 2.0. A week of tender breasts before my period starts is now a thing. It was never a thing before I was on the pill.

    This very second, I am using Clue and my old diaries to trace when exactly the pain got noteworthy. I had three periods that seemingly passed as nonevents and then we get to January 2015. After a 63 days cycle my period promptly started in a crêperie in Lyon three hours after a friend from home had arrived to visit. Two days later, I got up and began my long commute into the Rhône-Alps countryside and started to feel sick from some sort of new period pain. When I arrived at work I taught one class and then vomited in the toilet before going home – I never take sick days. Actually I’ll just quote my diary here, I think 2016 Hilary was quite eloquent about it:

    ‘I’m finally having a period but once I got to school I felt so faint and sick and there was basically blood pouring out of me. It was horrible. Very strange day, David Bowie died.’

    My next period, seven weeks later, appears in my diary as a divine event. It is the day I wrote a certain blood/vagina quote as discussed in Blood, Books and Vagina. I also wrote:

    ‘The more I learn about vaginas, periods, childbirth and motherhood the more my curiosity grows.’ 

    I was clearly on some sort of (hormone induced?) vagina trip. Though if you’ve read Blood, Books and Vagina you’ll know I had just read Naomi Wolf’s Vagina: A New Biography. 

    Right, so now we’re in March 2016. Once again I’ll leave it to past me (and Shania Twain, apparently):

    ‘Man, I feel like woman! Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I came on my period 28 days after my last period! Everything about this period is different but familiar… Today I feel like total shit and I cannot stop eating, but I know why and for the first time in three years I feel like me and my body are on the same page, yipee!’

    Oh young, naive girl. I don’t know where I got the idea that this was the dawn of a new age because this next cycle would go on to be 44 days, and the following would be 47. What is consistent on my Clue though, is the increase in cramps and ovulation pain. Around this time paracetamol stopped hacking it and I moved onto ibuprofen. Like sore boobs, ovulation pain was not something I experienced before I went on the pill. I have, until now, categorised it as sharp, often breathtaking pain, towards one side below my belly button, usually the right side.

    Once I started having sex again, the occurrence of these pains was no longer limited to where I was in my cycle. Suddenly I was having ovulation pain and period cramps three out of four weeks of a cycle, and recently four out of four (or five out of five). This includes weeks and months where I deliberately stop having sex, the pain continues regardless of my sex life, but is definitely worse when it’s active.

    Yet, it now seems that those pains are not ‘period cramps’ or ‘ovulation pain’. After last week’s ruling that whatever is causing my pain it is not gynaecological, I am stumped for how exactly I now talk about my pain. One option is to shut up and not say anything, quit a lifetime habit of moaning and leave my friends and family in peace. One thing that I’m learning to be really difficult about pain, especially chronic pain disorders, which it now seems is a group I may belong to, is that if you don’t say anything nothing happens. The only way anyone is going to know something is wrong is if you say something aloud.

    There is nothing, bar a heavy period and a bit of bloating, that projects my pain into the physical world. Which means everyone is going to think you’re fine unless you moan, but if you moan all the time then it’s fucking annoying for everyone. But how else do you express that you’re unwell? I need a metaphysical censor above my head. It’s a concept I find really tricky to get my head around.

    Now though, the language I have been using to express that pain is redundant and incorrect. I have focussed so much on my pain-cycle connection that it is incredibly difficult to disassociate my pain from my menstrual cycle. However, the raving pedantic within me can’t get on board with using now incorrect terms. I daren’t start saying ‘ow my bladder hurts’ because in a year’s time we’ll have probably moved onto my bowel or something else. It does of course all come under the category of pelvic pain but there’s something very clinical about ‘ow my pelvic area hurts’.

    I need to find a new language for articulating this pain – any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. So far all I have is Twilight Saga’s Jane blank staring while whispering ‘pain’.

    pain

    In the meantime, I might channel 2016 diary Hilary’s bizzaro way of articulating pain – with utter nonsense and writing a novel…

    Update: since I wrote this my sister showed me this picture. Could this be the language I’ve been needing to moan about my pain?! dementors

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