Tag: #Periodically

  • 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. 

  • Is Fertility Awareness a Teched-up Disguise of the Rhythm Method? #Periodically 16

    Is Fertility Awareness a Teched-up Disguise of the Rhythm Method? #Periodically 16

    I first heard the phrase “Rhythm Method” in a Religious Education class at my all-girls catholic high school. It was discussed alongside actual birth control methods like the pill and condoms, and I detected a tone of skepticism in the voice of my teacher. I have a vague memory of dropping the phrase at home one day and my dad going on a “it doesn’t work” rant, which ended, as I recall, with him threatening to demonstrate something involving a banana and a condom…

    So off I pottered on with my life, knowing that the Rhythm Method, which involves using the dates of your previous cycle to forecast the fertile and infertile days of the next, was an unreliable load of rubbish.

    Then something happened. I read an article by Holly Grigg-Spall that talked of Daysy and the Fertility Awareness Method. A year or so later the Natural Cycles phenomenon began. When I first heard about it my family and I agreed that it was the Rhythm Method in disguise, teched-up and glorified anew – it was a dangerous response to the sudden rejection of hormonal contraception that was going to end in a lot of unwanted pregnancies.

    That is until I learnt how the Fertility Awareness Method (FAM) was different from the Rhythm Method. While the Rhythm Method looks retrospectively at past cycle dates, FAM looks for markers of fertility within your current cycle. Tracking Basal Body Temperature (BBT) can flag up the temperature increase that occurs around ovulation. There are other markers too. Getting very familiar with your cervical fluid can be a huge indicator of fertility, testing your urine for luteinizing hormone (LH) even more so.

    I remain very nervous about how FAM is being depicted as this completed project. “Here it is, go forth and only multiply if you want to,” has been the attitude. I think it is still early days and that FAM should be treated as a step in the right direction, not a finite solution to a huge problem. So far in my own experience with FAM I’ve found that I’m less likely to take my BBT reading at the correct time than I was to take the pill on time. It is still super at risk of human error. This is before you consider the fact it can take around six years for a menstrual cycle to get, well, cyclical after menarche and without considering health conditions that can morph FAM data.

    Now a leaked memo from the White House suggests that as effective teen-pregnancy prevention programs (contraception) are being subsidised, abstinence based, sex risk and Fertility Awareness methods are being suggested as alternatives. I think that a big part of what the White House, and supporters of FAM within the Catholic Church, have got wrong, is that the sudden focus on FAM and the recent turn away from hormonal contraceptives is not because we are worried about our consciouses, souls or honour – it’s about wanting more. We want to choose when and if we do or do not have children and we want that choice to be free from the life-changing side-affects that often come with mainstream methods of hormonal birth control. FAM is still birth control. Those using it to avoid pregnancy are still looking for a contraceptive, they are simply asking for more. Having observed the changes in my own body when I was on and off of the pill(s), I am now acutely aware of how my body changes throughout my cycle. If that can stop me getting pregnant (if I could have sex, that is LOL) then of course I’m going to exploit that.

    I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: knowledge of self is powerful.

    This week I attended the opening of Period Piece at the Science Gallery in London. It’s on over the weekend too if you want to check it out, but it was a excellent platform for talking about why Femtech is changing things by using old ideas in new ways. Period Piece is a multi-media art piece that incorporates biometric data, like BBT, while touching upon political and religious events, like the papal ban on the pill in 1968.

  • 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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