This post is going to be a bit graphic as I recount this past month. I know how sensitive our menfolk can be when it comes to our “problems” as ladies… as if “problems” stands only for what most women have a week to endure.
To be honest, I don’t know how many readers I have. It has never really bothered me one way or another if I have any readers. I certainly don’t post with any regularity to warrant readers. I will say it tickles me to no end when someone does read my dribble or even likes/shares my sporadic entries.
For those who have stuck with me since 2013 and the sometimes feverish post flurries to the desert of not caring to post droughts, I’d like to share something very personal and intimate about myself with the understanding that I’m welcoming unwanted attention and jibes. I suffer from PCOS (Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome).
>>>> (sorry, I tried the read more tag, if you don’t like gruesome visuals, don’t continue reading. you have been warned)<<<<<<
What this means, and I gave the disclaimer so I get to be as graphic as I like.. ( : D ) … is that baaasically, instead of the follicle maturing into the egg and gets kicked out of the ovaries like a rude teenager… it hangs around. A rude immature “I don’t want to” attitude type follicle that refuses to grow up and leave the ovaries is what is left behind. It’s forever “not ready” to leave my ovaries to make that suicide drop through my Fallopian tubes. It becomes a benign cyst, like little bloody pillows hugging my ovaries in an unwanted embrace. I imagine that’s what my cramps are… those cysts hugging my ovaries in a futile attempt to say “NOOOO don’t leeeave meeee.”
I’ve been told, at the diagnosing ultrasound where it was discovered I have this fun lil circus going on in my broken down babymaker, that my ovaries were almost completely occluded with these little jerks. And that I’d never, at this point have children naturally without drastic changes, fertility treatments and a miracle that I can’t bank on. At the time, I had hoped to be able to tell my mother and my husband at some point in our lives that we’d have an addition to the family in the span of 9 months. I continued to hope that the week I lost my mom. I wanted to tell her as she laid there dying to say hello to her soon to be grand baby… give her some joy even though I carry no concept of an afterlife. She did, and at that moment, that’s all I cared about.
I look at approaching my 33rd year in just less a month now and in the past two years have been convinced my inability to bear children is simply force of will, that I didn’t want children. It helps me sleep at night.
Now, let me be clear. thousands of PCOS suffering women are able to get pregnant, have children through medication, treatment. It’s difficult when your case is severe… and heartbreaking. PCOS causes a bunch of problems for us girls. For me, it meant not having a period at all… or when it did (like once a year max) it comes in like a hurricane. A standard cycle is anywhere between 3-7 days. My initial cramping started almost to the day… a month ago. It’s been heavy bleeds since. I know of some who bleed for 2 to 4 months.
I’m starting to call my vagina Satan’s Orifice. There ya go, some blasphemous humor about my lady parts.
My cramps seriously feel like Satan has reached up from the depths of hell to flick waves of uncomfortable miserable torture rippling through my abdominal muscles. Oh! And if I cough or sneeze, a clot…what only can be easily viscerally be described as a heavily oiled up body temp water balloon… plops out as if I’ve laid an egg. It has to be the most disgusting personal body experience I’ve ever had to endure.
PCOS makes it almost impossible to lose weight… almost. Think of Sisyphus’ Task, forever pushing that boulder up the hill only to forever be condemned to keep doing it as the boulder continually rolls back down. I added a link to the first mentioning so I don’t have to go through it all…
Basically no period, and when it does happen, it’s not shark week, it’s shark month. I have to shave my chin almost as often as my husband does and between my under active thyroid and my ovaries- I’ve developed a bald spot at the crest of my forehead, oh and a high chance of endometrial cancer. fun. I already have body issues because of my weight… it took me near a decade or two after I was diagnosed with both Hypothyroid AND PCOS to realize my organs are my personal bullies.
This month has been a special hell. Not just because of the PCOS episode this month, but because my mom’s dad… my grandfather… passed away from advanced Alzheimer’s.
Honestly, I haven’t been able to process with the exception of quiet moments where my body isn’t being bent in half in pain. I’ve been either crying from a broken uterus or the loss of a man that molded the way I see the world. I haven’t, since my grandfather’s passing, heard a peep from my aunt. I learned of his passing from my brother. I imagine a rift has formed because I didn’t take the time to visit my grandfather on his deathbed. In all honesty, I couldn’t afford to. My solace is that my last memory of my grandfather was him smiling, oblivious to most of what ailed the world, oblivious that his wife of 50 years had passed 2 years before him. My regret is that my aunt lost her father to a debilitating genetic illness and I could not be there to comfort her as I was able to comfort my birth father when his mother passed a little over a month ago.
That’s right… my paternal grandmother, period from hell, my maternal grandfather all in the past month. I’m also going through some professional worries as well. My husband, on a rare date night last night commented how he’s surprised I haven’t had a breakdown. I reasoned that it’s because I’ve not thought about it… at all. All I can process right now is how much my lower extremities hurt and push through the cramping. The second I think about how much I miss my grandpa… a new ache sets in that can’t be soothed by chocolate and heat pads. My lineage is gone and it’s taking everything I have to be as stoic as possible.
Honestly, I have all I can take right now. More than once, I have prayed for this to let up long enough so I can grieve. Take this burden so I can mourn. The line must be busy or my call’s getting screened because shit just keeps happening.
I … AM… cracking. I just have a lot of crazy on my plate so I’m chipping in such even increments all over that it looks like I’m still whole. Emotionally, I’ve had a lot of bad days lately. I hate to say it, I’ve had more bad than good.
I’m grateful I have my husband. I would be utterly lost without him. I’ll wake up with him rubbing my belly because I’ve been groaning from pain in my sleep. He does everything in his power to take care of me through out all of this insanity. I’ve never met a more selfless, compassionate man. I can honestly say, in love, I won the lottery. I just wish I wasn’t such a broken wife.