Tag: Reprohealth

  • Farewell Ovulation – Going Back on the Pill #Periodically 19

    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.

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    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.

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    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. 

  • ‘Wait and see’ – Thoughts before diagnostic laparoscopy #Periodically 9

    ‘Wait and see’ – Thoughts before diagnostic laparoscopy #Periodically 9

    “Just wait and see,” my mum keeps telling me, anytime I speculate about what exactly is going on with my uterus. For a while it’s been a really annoying command. “I need to know now,” my brain disputes. But finally, it’s not long until the waiting is over and the seeing can begin.

    This week I have my long awaited diagnostic laparoscopy. For those who don’t know this is, or should be, simple keyhole surgery to determine if endometriosis is the cause of my pain and other issues. If there are any lesions (sticky bits of endometrium in the wrong place that can potentially bind organs together) they’ll remove what they can and then discuss possible treatments with me. A possible treatment, other than repeated surgery, is likely to be returning on the pill, an idea, you now know, I am not a massive fan of.

    Instead of going off on one of my usual tangents about how unfair it is that female health has been neglected, making common problems like endometriosis seem harsher in a world of medicinal advancement (still got it in there though, didn’t I?), I want to talk about what I worry is the most likely outcome of the surgery.

    “Nope, nothing wrong Ms Webb, off you pop!” The words I fear Dr M is going to say to me after the surgery have started to give me nightmares. I know it is a reality for so many women seeking enlightenment about their reproductive health but I am terrified that I’ll be joining the gang. There’s not a conspiracy here but there is a lack of understanding. When I’ve discussed pain during sex Dr H has been great but other doctors and nurses who I’ve mentioned it to, while also mentioning my lack of desire to return on the pill, say nothing. But in the nothing, I can’t help getting a vibe that says “shut your legs, harlot”. I think it’s highly unlikely, and unfair of me to assume, that they are actually thinking or suggesting this, but once all other options have been exhausted there’s not much left except abstinence from penetrative sex. They know this and so do I. It’s become an elephant in the room. While many people tell you to anticipate descending towards a new chastity at the very end of your life, it’s not something I want to be facing at twenty-two.

    So call me disturbed, but I really hope that after the surgery I hear that, in fact, there is something wrong with me (ideally something that they’ve fixed). At least if I have a condition with a name, I won’t feel like it’s all in my head and I’ll have somewhere to direct my frustration.

    But until then, let’s just wait and see.

  • A tale of two pills #Periodically 8

    A tale of two pills #Periodically 8

    This post is a long time coming. I could’ve written it over a year ago, before my uterus was even giving me gip. I’ve hesitated because I think it’s a dangerous subject. There is no doubt that hormonal contraception has offered billions of females around the world more control over their bodies than our predecessors could have ever hoped for. When women are free to decide when they have children, equality is a little a closer to reach. Sex and pregnancy no longer hold the weight, threat and disruption they once did and for that we must be incredibly grateful for all the benefits hormonal contraception offers human kind.

    However, yep, there it is. However, it seems hormonal contraception is only just beginning to show what else it is capable of, either that or people taking it are only just starting to talk about it. For most people, hormonal contraception works really well. Problems with it are usually very individual and I don’t think we’re told enough what signs to look for to know if it’s working with us or against us. So here’s my story. It’s not a story intended to put anyone off of hormonal contraception, it’s just a story about a couple of things that happened to happen to me. 

    I went on the pill in summer 2013. I was put on Rigevidon, a combined oral contraceptive pill. I did notice at the time that I was the only one of my friends on this pink packaged pill, they were all on Microgynon (the green one). It was great. I had a monthly bleed MONTHLY for the first time in my life, I could skip a period if I wanted to and my acne improved. Plus it was contraception, all excellent things in my book.

    In April 2014, I went to my university health centre to get a new prescription of Rigevidon, simple stuff. Unlike my doctors at home when I had first got the pill, the nurse at the UHC weighed me, took my blood pressure and asked me some questions. When she asked ‘have you had any migraines?’ I said no and then yes. I had had my first ever migraine a few weeks ago, and my second shortly after. I remembered it well because I took some ibuprofen as I had a headache, but then when it didn’t go away I left my friends playing Mario Kart to go and lie down in my dark room. It got better with sleep, I told the nurse. She frowned, and then asked ‘have you had any leg or chest pain?’ I laughed, funny she should ask. My flatmates and I had been on Web MD last week, diagnosing me with a pulmonary embolism because of growing pain like leg aches and occasional sharp chest pain, all in good humour though.

    “Right, I’m afraid I can’t give you Rigevidon,” she said. Shit. I hadn’t realised then the gravity my answers to the questions had held. I was expressing many of the symptoms of deep vein thrombosis (DVT), often associated with Rigevidon and other contraceptive pills. She thought about putting me on some other combined pills that contained higher levels of oestrogen but my great aunt and my dad both had breast cancer at the time, she didn’t recommend increasing my risk of that if it was already coming from both my maternal and paternal genealogy.

    So she decided that I should go on Cerelle, a progesterone only pill – POP, also known as the mini pill. I had a lot of questions about POP but she just told me to expect my periods to get a little funky, to take it everyday with no off week and be on my way. This is the part of the story where I usually say, ‘here’s where shit got fucked up’. But actually Rigevidon had already messed with my body more than it should’ve been allowed to, if they had asked me more questions at the very beginning they would have learnt that both my mum and sister were taken off of pills for signs of DVT – that alone should have been reason enough for it never to have gone near me. Since then, most of my friends on Microgynon (I’ve never heard a complain about micro) have been switched to Rigevidon and I’ve seen increasing forum discussions and articles about people being switched and confronting DVT when they do. Now call me a conspiracy theorist, but I can’t help but wonder if Rigevidon is much cheaper than Microgynon and that the NHS has decided that Rigevidon is more affordable, regardless of the risks it so clearly poses to some people. #ToryBritain

    So I prepared for my periods to get funky, and boy did they. In the first eight weeks I had six separate periods. Fun. After that, I didn’t bleed for over a year. I got used to it at first and it seemed fine but as time went on it was like PMS was beginning to accumulate. 2014 was a pretty bad time for me anyway, but I felt like something was pushing me to miserable. What didn’t help was that my acne got worse, I put on weight and bloated in all the best places, my face, my boobs and my stomach.

    There was something else too. Something that is most definitely TMI, an overshare. But given how often I see it appear as a concern for fellow Clue Ambassadors, I’m saying, once again, to hell with TMI. POP took away my ability to self lubricate. At the time I was in a fast declining relationship, and I took it as a sign that I was no longer attracted to my then boyfriend. That might have been a part truth but I didn’t realise the full effect POP had had on my body until I stopped taking it. Crying to my nurse I begged her to give me a reason to come off. Cruelly, she said ‘there’s no reason. You don’t need to have a period’. It was in her interest to keep as many female students on the pill so the UHC didn’t have to deal with student pregnancies, I appreciate that. But like I explained to her, I was getting more and more hormonal by the day. I felt like I had been pre-menstrual for eight months, I needed some release.

    She said no on two occasions but on the third I just decided to stop taking the pill one day on holiday. A month later I started to bleed and then I had a year of sheer irregularity and then discovered that something else in my reproductive system had floated up shit creek. But I remember coming off of POP vividly. I dropped two cup sizes almost immediately, my face dropped something too. And then, I discovered myself once again having the ability to self lubricate. I had ended the relationship by this point but it was clear to me that this was happening due to a total shift in my hormones. What’s more, now this could have just been the euphoria of coming off of POP talking, but I remember thinking that I was smelling smells that I hadn’t smelt since I was 17, before I was on the pill. I have no idea if that’s a thing, but it was to me.

    So now I’m off the pill and fortunately my inability to have, or at least to enjoy, sex is acting as a pretty sturdy contraceptive. I did enquire about getting an IUD but surprise, surprise my cervix is in the wrong place so I can’t. It’s likely that whether I have endometriosis or not, Dr M will suggest I go back on the pill. Whatever pill he suggests, I will deal with that decision at the time. I find it quite a traumatising prospect, having to go back on, but it might be my only option for the time being.