Last weekend I was approached by someone who knew my story. She had a period question.
Apparently, her periods are excruciating and she often takes time off work because of them. She has been known to throw up during her cycle as a result of the pain.
Before hearing about me, she thought this was normal. She just assumed it was how her body was made, and has been enduring it her entire life.
It is not normal.
When my issues first started, it began with an absent period. A really absent period.
As in, Aunt Flo took a 3 month+ hiatus.
I had never been a 28 day cycler, but I had also never gone longer than 5 weeks without a period (with the exception of when I was taking the pill continuously in order to purposely skip my cycle). I knew something was wrong.
First I started peeing on sticks. Once a week. Then every few days. Then every other day.
Then every day.
There were probably 50 pee sticks in all.
At some point I moved on to getting blood tests at doctor’s offices. Just to confirm the negatives the pee sticks were presenting me with.
I knew, deep down in my soul, that I was either pregnant or that something was very very wrong.
The ex’s theory was that he had just knocked my period out of the park.
He said she would be back when she got used to all the phenomenal bedtime activities.
He believed he had managed to confuse her with his prowess.
I’m not kidding.
I knew something was wrong though.
I had just moved to Alaska, so I went to the first gynecologist I could get in to.
He assured me that this was normal. That I had just moved across the country, gone 3 months without a job, and completely uprooted my life. He just kept telling me that Aunt Flo would return and all would be well.
“Women go through this all the time” he said.
But I knew something was wrong.
When Aunt Flo finally returned, she did so with a vengeance. I was completely taken out by my period. I had never experienced pain like that. I cried. I threw up. I trembled. I ran a fever.
I couldn’t walk. Couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep.
So I went back to Dr. Gyno, and he told me this was normal. That some women just have bad periods. That it wasn’t anything to be concerned about.
It took two more visits for him to do an ultrasound. By that point his condescension was seeping out of his pours. This man did not have patience for me. He thought I was a hypochondriac.
And I thought that all doctors knew best. So I allowed him to talk down to me.
I allowed him to make me feel like I was making this all up.
He made it clear to me that he did not believe an ultrasound was necessary and he was only doing it to appease me. Of course, when he saw the state of my insides he changed his tune.
But he still didn’t change his plan of action. Despite the cysts that were clearly taking over my lady parts, he wanted to continue playing wait and see.
It took another two periods and a trip to the emergency room before he finally decided that this was not normal.
By that point, he wanted me to sign off on having a hysterectomy. He said the damage had gotten too bad, and he did not believe he would be able to save anything.
Then, and only then, did I finally switch doctors. It took that much for me to realize that not all doctors are created equally. It took that treatment (and his quick jump from “wait and see” to “let’s take it all out”) for me to acknowledge that this was not normal.
It is not normal.
You know your body (as I knew mine), but I think sometimes we convince ourselves that doctors know best. Or that all women experience painful periods.
It is true that nobody really likes their period. This conversation right here really highlights that. The cramps, the mood swings, the smell (yes, the smell – you know what I’m talking about); none of it is fun.
But it is not normal to be overtaken by pain. It is not normal to be unable to handle your day to day responsibilities. It is not normal to be physically ill every time you bleed.
It is not normal.
I am by no means trying to convince anyone that they have endometriosis (or any other condition for that matter!) We do not need a little generation of hypochondriacs. But, I wish that someone had told me that it wasn’t normal.
I wish that someone had believed me when I said that something was wrong.
When I asserted that something was very wrong.
I wish my pain had been taken seriously, and my knowledge of my own body more readily accepted from the beginning.
I have amazing doctors now, who have literally bent over backwards to treat me and my endometriosis.
One doctor in particular who has now performed a miracle twice by saving my ovaries during surgery.
Ovaries my first doctor was all too willing to just scoop out.
Despite having great doctors though, I have now come to realize that no doctor knows my body better than I do. If I think something is wrong, something is wrong. I know my body.
And I know what is normal.
The point is that you do too. Don’t take your friends word for it, or some doctor who doesn’t seem to be listening to you. Be your own advocate. Fight for the treatment you need and deserve.
And don’t be afraid to say “It is NOT normal!”
Because you (and only you) know what is.
ADSPACE
