Tag: Sex

  • Down a different rabbit hole… #Periodically 30

    Down a different rabbit hole… #Periodically 30

    For whatever reason, the area between my legs has always been a place of curiosity for me, perhaps not helped by my discovery of the vagina-brain connection theory discussed in Naomi Wolf’s Vagina. Recently, and with help from my psychosexual counsellor, I’ve realised that this ‘curiosity’ might have meant I always had a certain ‘vulnerability’ to something like vaginismus. Perhaps it was always lying in wait and it would just take an unfortunate combination of events to trigger it.

    But it’s not just the vagina that I’ve been curious about — for most of my life, the uninary system has caused the most trouble. The exploration into gynaecological causes of my pelvic pain over the last couple of years has overtaken a bit, especially since when I raised the subject of urology with my doctor last autumn, he said, “you don’t experience painful periods or painful sex unless there is a gynaecological problem.” It was only last winter, when I was clearing the loft with my mum and considering starting counselling, that I found some note cards from 2007 that made me wonder if my bladder might be playing a role in my present situation.

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    Hilary’s obsession with bodily fluids circa 2007

    As part of a public speaking exercise, I chose to talk about cystitis and toilet access in schools. What inspires an eleven-year-old to give a speech about urinary tract infections (UTIs)? A long and complicated history with them and bladder weakness, even at eleven. I had a few kidney scans as a kid but the general consensus from my doctors back then was, “she’ll grow out of it.” Lo and behold I did not. The UTIs subsided during puberty, but once I started having sex they returned. I had a reputation as an obsessive pee-er as a kid, I planned my day around when and where I was going to wee, a habit I still sometimes catch myself practising now.

    Throughout this whole process investigating my bladder for something like interstitial cystitis seemed like such an obvious path to take and it’s finally happening. Last month I saw a urologist and, as always, I was armed with a list of things I thought relevant to mention, and for the first time ever, all the points on my list came up as a result of the doctor’s questions. I didn’t have to suggest anything myself. Dr K was immediately nodding and it was like my body was doing all the right (or wrong) things to have been sent to this department.

    Dr K has referred me for (yet another) ultrasound, took a urine sample and then started mentioning some elusive “other procedure” and because I’m a moron I didn’t actually ask what this third procedure was. And then a letter came in the post while I was on holiday informing me that fairly soon I’ll be having a camera up my urethra (flexible cystoscopy). OH GOOD.

    As always, I’m excited to explore another orifice (lol) but I’m worried about traumatising my body with another pelvic procedure, especially since I’ll be conscious for this one. I was given almost no information about what to expect or how to prepare other than to “bring some small change and a urine sample” — are the two connected? I rang the department to try and find out a little more and was told “it’s just like a smear test,” which is really helpful because a) I’ve never had one as I’m under 25, and b) pelvic examinations have been so painful in the past that I was diagnosed with vaginismus. So I wouldn’t say I’m feeling totally relaxed about the whole thing, but when I look back on the last two years with fresh urological eyes, there are a lot of unanswered questions. Like the fact my pain started around two memorable events, only my doctors chose to focus on one; a) a period so painful I left work to go home and vomit/cry and b) having a drink spiked and feeling like I was hungover for three months because of what turned out to be a bladder infection.

    My GP isn’t convinced that the answer to all my problems lies in my bladder, and neither am I. Going back on the pill certainly hasn’t ‘fixed’ me but my body’s reactions to it and the adjustments in how I take it have confirmed that there is undoubtedly something hormonally abnormal going on in my body. And yet I can’t shake the sneaking suspicion that a piece of the larger puzzle might be in my bladder.

  • One Year of #Periodically: Sharing is Caring | #Periodically 27

    One Year of #Periodically: Sharing is Caring | #Periodically 27

    Fanfare alert: it’s been one whole year since I published the first #Periodically blog on Fictitiously Hilary. This marks my 27th blog about my menstrual, gynaecological and all together grossly overshared health. If truth be told, I can’t believe it’s only been a year, it’s been a bit of a mad one.

    So much has happened in the last 12 months, and, as I mentioned last week, writing the #Periodically blogs has given some really awful situations a positive edge. Writing about this never-ending shit-storm has meant I’ve actually got something from the shit-storm. The year would have been a bit of a downer without it.

    Health wise, the last twelve months have seen me hate the pill, have eliminating surgery, an infected bellybutton (nice!), cysts, cyst, no cysts, vaginismus (that was a curveball), counselling, stop running, start yoga, give up sex, several very painful pelvic exams, four very painful ultrasounds, anaemia (another curveball), one trip to the emergency gynae unit, going back on the pill, almost liking the pill, hating the pill again and going on pain eliminating antidepressants. It’s remarkable, but not all that surprising, that I have had so much medical intervention in the last 12 months without reaching a stable diagnosis or any reliable resolution. It’s also pretty distressing to think that things at this point are probably a little worse than they were a year ago. On the bright side, I’m incredibly fortunate that all this medical intervention, except prescriptions since leaving Wales, hasn’t directly cost me a penny! #SaveOurNHS 

    I say directly because my health has cost me financially. The increase in doctors appointments and pain last autumn undoubtedly influenced my decision to go freelance but I don’t regret that decision for a second. I graduated last July, spent four weeks in South America (including a struggle with altitude sickness that makes so much more sense now I know I was anaemic), before having the op and then deciding to go freelance.

    Going freelance straight from university was an awful idea, I knew it was at the time, but #Periodically has been a huge part of my freelance “success” (as in I’m still alive). While I haven’t monetized the blog, #Periodically has opened up so many doors, from top-secret projects that are going to change the world, to helping me get accepted onto the masters course I’ll be starting in September. It’s also let me meet some amazing people, from Period Poverty activists like Mandu Reid and Gabby Edlin (who I met in a toilet of all places), to entrepreneurs and game-changers in female health.

    From time to time, #Periodically has also veered away from my personal experiences and into other things, like femtech and menstrual cup reviews, as well as reviews of books like Sweetening the Pill and It’s Only Blood. The most popular blogs, ‘Does being anti-pill make me a bad feminist?’ and ‘My experience using Natural Cycles,’ combine review and personal experience — something I hope I can do more of in the future.

    In the first #Periodically I wrote, “I don’t want to write about it after the fact, because after the fact might not be for a long time. I want to write about it while it is happening,” and THANK GOD I had that mentality. Who knows when the end of this saga will come, but by sharing my experience, often in TMI detail, collaborating and campaigning I feel like I’ve got so much more from this year than just pain and frustrating doctors appointments. I hope the blogs can help make a few more people sit up and take female health, particularly menstrual health, even the tiniest bit more seriously.

    Thank you so much for reading and sharing the #Periodically blogs, especially if you were only here for book-talk. I have no idea where me or #Periodically will be in another 12 months time, but I can say with some confidence that things are probably going to get weird. 

    My favourite #Periodically is still #Periodically 4, check it out here: “Conversations with Doctors That Shouldn’t Have Happened”. 

  • My Vaginismus & the Vaginismus Network #Periodically 23

    My Vaginismus & the Vaginismus Network #Periodically 23

    I had a different blog planned for this week but after a rather special evening on Friday I’ve had a change of heart. Today I want to talk about something I’ve only touched upon before – Vaginismus. 

    In #Periodically 18 – “Can I examine you?” – I spoke about how my gynaecologist had informed me that as well as the unidentified shit storm working its way through my womb that I had now also developed a “superficial problem” – vaginismus. But that’s the first and last time I mentioned it. Since then, I’ve turned the blog’s focus towards the hormonal adventure I’m going on in an attempt to resolve the internal issues. Given that #Periodically is a blog where I very graphically talk about the inner workings of my reproductive system, why did I stop talking about vaginismus? It was a diagnosis I was neither expecting nor knew much about, but when I started #Periodically I wrote, “I don’t want to write about it after the fact, because after the fact might not be for a long time. I want to write about it while it is happening.” The same is true for vaginismus, so let’s do that. Today I want to talk about vaginismus, what it is and how an evening with a group of extraordinary women at the Vaginismus Network completely transformed my feelings towards it.

    Vaginismus is the uncontrollable clenching of muscles in and around the vagina upon penetration. It can be compared to shutting your eye if someone tries to stick something in it. It’s a reflex, a physical reaction and not one that you have any direct control over. Most of the time it results in penetration, whether that’s a finger, a cotton bud, a speculum or a penis, being impossible and/or incredibly painful.

    The pelvic examination where my gynaecologist noticed I had vaginismus was painful and uncomfortable, more so than normal. When he said that I had vaginismus I was surprised because I don’t think it’s something I’ve regularly experienced during sex. I can think of one, maybe two occasions where I now think “oh, is that what was happening there?” It’s probably also relevant to note than this was nine months after I stopped having sex, for a variety of reasons, including the fact my deep dyspareunia (sex that hurts deep inside) was too much to handle, physically and otherwise.

    This means I developed vaginismus after having had normal and healthy (sort of) penetrative sex in the past. On Friday, I learnt that there’s a word for this too – “secondary vaginismus”. Many who suffer from vaginismus have never been able to endure let alone enjoy penetration, going overdue for pap smears and not being able to use tampons – this is primary vaginismus.

    My gynae gave me the news and said I would need therapy, physio and maybe anti-depressants. In reality he only referred me for therapy, which I started last week after a four month wait. I’m still not having sex but I have had the displeasure of noticing vaginismus on my own for the first time. Why? Menstrual cups! Just when I thought I had mastered them, something bloody well changed. There I was, cup in hand and sort of in vagina. As I tried to get it in place I experienced that horrendous, breathtaking pain for the first time since I last had an internal ultrasound or sex. I immediately removed the cup, steadied myself and caught my breath. When I tried again, lo-and-behold my vagina was closed for business. Rock solid and painful, nothing was getting in there. So it was nickers down, on the loo with a menstrual cup in one hand that I had my first personal encounter with vaginismus.

    Like I said, I have only just started counselling, so I’m at the beginning of a weird “journey” to discover why my body is doing this and how I can stop it, but I personally think that what I’m displaying is “harm avoidance behaviour”. My vagina is closing to prevent further pain inside – it’s quite clever really. There are of course other reasons it could be happening, from the whiplash I’ve experienced from surgery to ultrasounds (all of which have involved something entering my poor vagina) to something I haven’t even realised yet. It does add a further complication to my situation though. As my GP(s) and I concentrate on finding a solution to the internal pain worsened by penetrative sex, I now have to deal with the very real possibility that if and when I next try to have sex, it might not be able to happen. Man, that’s piling a lot of pressure on any future relationships I may have!

    I am lucky in so many ways. My vaginismus is secondary, meaning I know that sex can be a positive experience and that my vagina is, or at least once was, capable of opening. My vaginismus being secondary also means that I have a definitive time span in which to search for what changed to trigger my vaginismus. My vaginismus is apparently sporadic, or it only happens when there’s serious internal pain, meaning that most of the time I can use menstrual cups – tampons pose something of a different challenge, however. It’s likely that my vaginismus will be triggered by sex, but since I’m not currently dating or having sex it’s not a problem I have to deal with at the moment. I have time.

    On Friday I attended the Vaginismus Network’s first meet up in London. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked into the Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium, but what I found was a room full to the brim with brilliant women who happened to have vaginismus. For most people there, including me, it was their first time meeting others with vaginismus. What was really empowering about the event was that as united we were with the spasming of our vaginas, everyone was completely unique in their experience, not only of the condition but of life, work and relationships. Vaginismus can affect anyone with a vagina, it holds no prejudices. For some it’s easy to pin point what causes vaginismus, for others it’s easy to speculate (like me) and for a few there’s literally no obvious reason why it’s happening, which can make recovery all the more tedious and complicated. Founders Lisa and Kat have created something incredible. As you know, I attend my fair share of female health related events and talks, but this was different. It was like being at the start of a revolution. Some of the ideas being spitballed at the event could be game-changing. It’s certainly spurred me on with that “secret” project I’ve been working on lately.

    In my very limited experience with vaginismus, the impression I’ve so far got from discussions about it (with people who have no experience of the condition or even having a vagina) is that it’s a case of women needing to relax, to lighten up or to be less uptight. Holy moly it felt good to bitch about those judgements with people who really got it. And the truth is, now that a few of us know that we’re not alone in our thoughts on vaginismus, we know that we have to go out and talk about it – otherwise no one is ever going to understand, let alone start researching the damn thing. Friday night saw a barrier come down, so while our vaginas might not want to open, now at least we can open our mouths to talk about vaginismus.

    My experience is new and manageable for the time being, but for many of the people I met on Friday, this is not the case. I am so grateful to have found a group like the Vaginismus Network so early on, imagine what could change if the same was true for everyone? A huge thank you to Lisa, Kat, the inspirational and hilarious psychosexual therapist Sarah Berry and the Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium for creating such a safe, supportive and fun environment – you’ve already made a difference bigger than you know. Keep an eye on the Vaginismus Network – it’s one to watch for sure.