Surgery scheduled for January 27th. Yay!
I mean...who wants to have surgery, right? But...BC is clearly not an option for me, and the opposite of that, Lupron (take away ALL your hormones for 3-6 months and then slowly add them back in) sounds like an even worse idea.
So, general anesthesia, dive right in there and take a look at the stuff (since it doesn't show up on ultrasound, MR, or CT). Laser off what is possible. And go from there.
My mom's coming to take care of me - excellent, totally what moms are for - and I've managed to schedule it when I still have another 10 days or so off from class before spring semester starts.
Not super exciting, but at this point, if it gets rid of this pain, then I'm all for it. Let's go. 45 days and counting.
Showing posts with label birth control. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birth control. Show all posts
Monday, December 12, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Catching Up
Well, it seems that a gentle nudge from a good friend has reminded me that I haven't written much here lately, and what I have written has been largely emotionally overwrought and crazy. So it's time to catch up a bit on what's been going on, a task that I am looking forward to, loving writing as I do.
As I sit here and type, I've got Christmas music on in the background. Pandora was not really rocking the 80's music very well today, so I switched to the Macy's Holiday channel, which makes me very happy.
First of all, I should note that the Great Birth Control Experiment is OVER. Completed. Finished. No more. From the time I started taking it at the end of May, I just felt..."off"...I described here before some of the physical stuff, but the part you can't really put into words is the part where I just didn't feel like myself. I don't know if some of that was mental/psychological (I wouldn't doubt it), but I also think some of it was legit. Then, last week, I ended up in the ER at midnight, getting a CT scan to check for blood clots in my lungs. Thankfully, everything came back negative, but it was enough to scare me. As much as I knew that something "just wasn't right", I was trying so hard to be the "obedient patient" that I just kept taking it, even though my body was telling me STOP STOP STOP. So I did. It's been a week and a half since I took the last one, and I feel SO much better. I just feel more...engaged in the world, I feel like myself. I've started eating a little more, which I figure is good. As I think I mentioned earlier, I had completely lost my appetite while taking BC. After a while, I started feeling so out-of-whack that I thought I was going to end up in the hospital for malnutrition or something. I eventually bought Gatorade (which I hate) just to try to keep my body somewhat balanced. It got to the point where I could objectively know that I needed to eat, and somehow find the motivation to cook something, and then I would eat 3 or 4 bites and just stare at the rest of it, completely uninterested. And I am not a person who is uninterested in food. Clothes are falling off me, and my doc asked if I was intending to lose so much weight. So, although I definitely don't mind the fact that I fit into a smaller jeans size now, it feels good to have somewhat of an appetite again. And it also just feels good to know that I'm not poisoning every cell in my body to maybe-sorta-control the few that are causing me problems.
Which leads me to the next piece: I've been (unofficially) diagnosed with endometriosis. Technically, it's a disease that can only be diagnosed by surgery (it can't be seen on ultrasound, CT, or MR, and won't show up in bloodwork), but apparently if you're a gynecologist who has seen enough cases, you can make a pretty good guess off symptoms alone. It's good to have a diagnosis (that even happens to agree with my own self-diagnosis based on obsessive late-night symptom Googling), but it's a little disheartening because there's no real clear path forward. The disease is so ... random, almost, and there's no real cure, per se, that treating it becomes an exercise in throwing a bunch of stuff against the wall to see what sticks. Clearly BC, which apparently works for some people, isn't an option for me. Others have tried a drug called Lupron, which rather than adding hormones (BC), takes them all away for a few months, and then slowly adds them back in. This does not sound like a good plan. At all. While on the BC, most of the craziness was confined to my own head, which is torturous enough. I'd hate to do screw around with my hormones so much that the craziness starts to leak out and impact the people around me. That would be even worse. Two other options are surgery or physical therapy. I'm thinking eventually it will come to the combination of those two. Just based on a little bit of work I've done myself (again, with the Googling), I've found that I think the PT could be helpful. It's more natural, it can be done at home, it's got to be cheaper, etc... But, I'm moving in 3 and half weeks (insert "Holy Crap" here). Fortunately, I've got a couple referrals for MDs in the Cities, so I'm just postponing dealing with this anymore until I get settled back in at school.
And with that said, cue "next post on getting ready to move."
As I sit here and type, I've got Christmas music on in the background. Pandora was not really rocking the 80's music very well today, so I switched to the Macy's Holiday channel, which makes me very happy.
First of all, I should note that the Great Birth Control Experiment is OVER. Completed. Finished. No more. From the time I started taking it at the end of May, I just felt..."off"...I described here before some of the physical stuff, but the part you can't really put into words is the part where I just didn't feel like myself. I don't know if some of that was mental/psychological (I wouldn't doubt it), but I also think some of it was legit. Then, last week, I ended up in the ER at midnight, getting a CT scan to check for blood clots in my lungs. Thankfully, everything came back negative, but it was enough to scare me. As much as I knew that something "just wasn't right", I was trying so hard to be the "obedient patient" that I just kept taking it, even though my body was telling me STOP STOP STOP. So I did. It's been a week and a half since I took the last one, and I feel SO much better. I just feel more...engaged in the world, I feel like myself. I've started eating a little more, which I figure is good. As I think I mentioned earlier, I had completely lost my appetite while taking BC. After a while, I started feeling so out-of-whack that I thought I was going to end up in the hospital for malnutrition or something. I eventually bought Gatorade (which I hate) just to try to keep my body somewhat balanced. It got to the point where I could objectively know that I needed to eat, and somehow find the motivation to cook something, and then I would eat 3 or 4 bites and just stare at the rest of it, completely uninterested. And I am not a person who is uninterested in food. Clothes are falling off me, and my doc asked if I was intending to lose so much weight. So, although I definitely don't mind the fact that I fit into a smaller jeans size now, it feels good to have somewhat of an appetite again. And it also just feels good to know that I'm not poisoning every cell in my body to maybe-sorta-control the few that are causing me problems.
Which leads me to the next piece: I've been (unofficially) diagnosed with endometriosis. Technically, it's a disease that can only be diagnosed by surgery (it can't be seen on ultrasound, CT, or MR, and won't show up in bloodwork), but apparently if you're a gynecologist who has seen enough cases, you can make a pretty good guess off symptoms alone. It's good to have a diagnosis (that even happens to agree with my own self-diagnosis based on obsessive late-night symptom Googling), but it's a little disheartening because there's no real clear path forward. The disease is so ... random, almost, and there's no real cure, per se, that treating it becomes an exercise in throwing a bunch of stuff against the wall to see what sticks. Clearly BC, which apparently works for some people, isn't an option for me. Others have tried a drug called Lupron, which rather than adding hormones (BC), takes them all away for a few months, and then slowly adds them back in. This does not sound like a good plan. At all. While on the BC, most of the craziness was confined to my own head, which is torturous enough. I'd hate to do screw around with my hormones so much that the craziness starts to leak out and impact the people around me. That would be even worse. Two other options are surgery or physical therapy. I'm thinking eventually it will come to the combination of those two. Just based on a little bit of work I've done myself (again, with the Googling), I've found that I think the PT could be helpful. It's more natural, it can be done at home, it's got to be cheaper, etc... But, I'm moving in 3 and half weeks (insert "Holy Crap" here). Fortunately, I've got a couple referrals for MDs in the Cities, so I'm just postponing dealing with this anymore until I get settled back in at school.
And with that said, cue "next post on getting ready to move."
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The Great BC Update
Since all my loyal readers care... :-)
Ok, so as of yesterday, I only have one month left on this wretched pill before my GYN appointment, wherein I announce that this is not working.
Let's take a look at the box score, Bob. After two-and-a-half weeks of adding synthetic hormones to my body, the reviews are in:
+ Pretty hair
+ Great skin
- Bleeding every day
- Increased pain (including new "rebound pain")
- Increased anxiety/depression
- Increased headaches
- Emotionally flat
- Loss of appetite
- Insomnia
- Tiredness/fatigue (probably related to the insomnia)
So yeah, this is a no-go.
(And yes, I did call my GP and she told me "this" (which at that point was only the increased pain/bleeding) sometimes happens in the first cycle and wanted me to try to stick it out). Nonetheless, I'm counting down the days until July 13. I'm so over this.
Ok, so as of yesterday, I only have one month left on this wretched pill before my GYN appointment, wherein I announce that this is not working.
Let's take a look at the box score, Bob. After two-and-a-half weeks of adding synthetic hormones to my body, the reviews are in:
+ Pretty hair
+ Great skin
- Bleeding every day
- Increased pain (including new "rebound pain")
- Increased anxiety/depression
- Increased headaches
- Emotionally flat
- Loss of appetite
- Insomnia
- Tiredness/fatigue (probably related to the insomnia)
So yeah, this is a no-go.
(And yes, I did call my GP and she told me "this" (which at that point was only the increased pain/bleeding) sometimes happens in the first cycle and wanted me to try to stick it out). Nonetheless, I'm counting down the days until July 13. I'm so over this.
Monday, May 16, 2011
You're Supposed to Ask
She didn't even ask if I had any questions...
My close friends know that for years (since college), I've been suffering from undiagnosed, vague, ill-defined but very intensely-experienced medical problems of a, um, girlish nature. There's all sorts of details and qualifications that sort of come and go, but the bottom line is: PAIN, basically 3 weeks a month. In the past, I've pretty much just tolerated it, or self-medicated with Tylenol and Motrin. For a brief time in college, a doc prescribed Vioxx for me, which I absolutely loved, but shortly thereafter it was recalled and permanently pulled from the shelves. Since then, I've had several doctors whose approach to my problems were one of the three things: 1) Yes, well, these things happen. 2) Well, all the tests are negative, here, have some birth control pills. 3) It's probably some intestinal bug, go home and rest.
In September, I had an appointment with a new doctor when I moved out here for internship. She came highly recommended (from the local pro-life pregnancy center, who I asked because I wanted someone awesome, not someone who would just blow me off again.), and she is amazing. A very faithful Catholic woman with three kids of her own, she listens well, and genuinely wants to figure out what's going on and help me feel better. In the last few weeks, we've redone all the ultrasounds and lab work, rehashed all the history, and still come up empty. She's a primary care doc, and so today she referred me to a GYN (appointments being scheduled 2 months out!). And she suggested that until then, I take birth control, just so that we can see what happens, and add another data point to the mystery. If it helps, that tells us something; if it doesn't, that tells us something too.
I wasn't thrilled with the suggestion, but scientifically, I understand the point. She asked what I thought, and I told her that although I've never taken birth control at all, I was willing to take a leap of faith. I've never really needed to, either from a therapeutic or contraceptive perspective, and then sometime over the course of the last few years, almost without even realizing it, my moral, philosophical, and theological take has shifted, and I've become wholly opposed to artificial birth control as a matter of principle. I explained that, which of course she understood, and asked again if I was okay with it. I told her I was, and she wrote the prescription. I've taken plenty of medication in my life; this is no different than anything else, right?
It wasn't until later in the day that I was able to get to the pharmacy to pick it up. Waiting in line, all of a sudden I started to hate the whole thing - myself, the drugs, the incompetent woman manning the register, the world. I hate myself for doing something I'm morally opposed to. I hate the drugs because (I don't know where I got this idea, and objectively, I understand that it's wrong) I'm convinced that taking them is going to prevent me from ever having children. I hated the lady because she didn't even ask if I had any questions about the medication. You're supposed to ask. She just handed them over to me in a plain white paper bag, like she probably does a hundred times a day, probably assuming that I've been taking this medication for 15 years. I wanted to sit down right there on the floor and start crying, and tell her that I want to have babies, but I'm sick, that there's something wrong with my body and I'm not taking this because I want sex-without-consequences. I hated the world because this is what we've come to, that to take artificial birth control is "normal" and to be 29 years old and never have taken it is "abnormal," and what the hell kind of world is that?
I've come to the conviction, lately, that the advent of The Pill is pretty much what accounts for most of the downfall of Western civilization. That the separation of sex from babies has devalued sex, and babies, and men, and women, and relationships, and parenthood, and childhood, and humans in general. I just didn't realize how strongly I felt about it until I had this stupid white bag, crammed down deep in my purse, so I could try to forget about it. This isn't who I am. Ever since I've come this moral conclusion, I've been proud of myself for resisting attempts to just treat my symptoms by stocking my body with synthetic hormones. Even though I know it's a positive step to try to figure out what's going on, it feels like a step backward in my dreams; what I want is babies, and right now, even if Prince Charming showed up at my door tonight and we flew to Vegas and eloped, I couldn't have them.
Which isn't technically true, I suppose. I have to wait another two weeks to start taking them. But I'm scared that I'll never have babies, I'm scared that there's something really wrong with me, I'm scared that this is morally wrong and I'm just going along with it, I'm scared that I'm going to get fat, I'm scared that I'm going to become a crazy hormonal nutjob, I'm scared that there will be a big scarlet BC on my forehead and everyone I meet will know that I take birth control and assume that I'm just out there having sex with every random guy I meet at a bar. I'm scared that I will go through all this work and money and time and stress to figure out what's wrong with me, and in the end, it won't matter because we'll never really figure it out, and there won't be anyone to care, anyway.
She didn't even ask if I had any questions.
You're supposed to ask.
My close friends know that for years (since college), I've been suffering from undiagnosed, vague, ill-defined but very intensely-experienced medical problems of a, um, girlish nature. There's all sorts of details and qualifications that sort of come and go, but the bottom line is: PAIN, basically 3 weeks a month. In the past, I've pretty much just tolerated it, or self-medicated with Tylenol and Motrin. For a brief time in college, a doc prescribed Vioxx for me, which I absolutely loved, but shortly thereafter it was recalled and permanently pulled from the shelves. Since then, I've had several doctors whose approach to my problems were one of the three things: 1) Yes, well, these things happen. 2) Well, all the tests are negative, here, have some birth control pills. 3) It's probably some intestinal bug, go home and rest.
In September, I had an appointment with a new doctor when I moved out here for internship. She came highly recommended (from the local pro-life pregnancy center, who I asked because I wanted someone awesome, not someone who would just blow me off again.), and she is amazing. A very faithful Catholic woman with three kids of her own, she listens well, and genuinely wants to figure out what's going on and help me feel better. In the last few weeks, we've redone all the ultrasounds and lab work, rehashed all the history, and still come up empty. She's a primary care doc, and so today she referred me to a GYN (appointments being scheduled 2 months out!). And she suggested that until then, I take birth control, just so that we can see what happens, and add another data point to the mystery. If it helps, that tells us something; if it doesn't, that tells us something too.
I wasn't thrilled with the suggestion, but scientifically, I understand the point. She asked what I thought, and I told her that although I've never taken birth control at all, I was willing to take a leap of faith. I've never really needed to, either from a therapeutic or contraceptive perspective, and then sometime over the course of the last few years, almost without even realizing it, my moral, philosophical, and theological take has shifted, and I've become wholly opposed to artificial birth control as a matter of principle. I explained that, which of course she understood, and asked again if I was okay with it. I told her I was, and she wrote the prescription. I've taken plenty of medication in my life; this is no different than anything else, right?
It wasn't until later in the day that I was able to get to the pharmacy to pick it up. Waiting in line, all of a sudden I started to hate the whole thing - myself, the drugs, the incompetent woman manning the register, the world. I hate myself for doing something I'm morally opposed to. I hate the drugs because (I don't know where I got this idea, and objectively, I understand that it's wrong) I'm convinced that taking them is going to prevent me from ever having children. I hated the lady because she didn't even ask if I had any questions about the medication. You're supposed to ask. She just handed them over to me in a plain white paper bag, like she probably does a hundred times a day, probably assuming that I've been taking this medication for 15 years. I wanted to sit down right there on the floor and start crying, and tell her that I want to have babies, but I'm sick, that there's something wrong with my body and I'm not taking this because I want sex-without-consequences. I hated the world because this is what we've come to, that to take artificial birth control is "normal" and to be 29 years old and never have taken it is "abnormal," and what the hell kind of world is that?
I've come to the conviction, lately, that the advent of The Pill is pretty much what accounts for most of the downfall of Western civilization. That the separation of sex from babies has devalued sex, and babies, and men, and women, and relationships, and parenthood, and childhood, and humans in general. I just didn't realize how strongly I felt about it until I had this stupid white bag, crammed down deep in my purse, so I could try to forget about it. This isn't who I am. Ever since I've come this moral conclusion, I've been proud of myself for resisting attempts to just treat my symptoms by stocking my body with synthetic hormones. Even though I know it's a positive step to try to figure out what's going on, it feels like a step backward in my dreams; what I want is babies, and right now, even if Prince Charming showed up at my door tonight and we flew to Vegas and eloped, I couldn't have them.
Which isn't technically true, I suppose. I have to wait another two weeks to start taking them. But I'm scared that I'll never have babies, I'm scared that there's something really wrong with me, I'm scared that this is morally wrong and I'm just going along with it, I'm scared that I'm going to get fat, I'm scared that I'm going to become a crazy hormonal nutjob, I'm scared that there will be a big scarlet BC on my forehead and everyone I meet will know that I take birth control and assume that I'm just out there having sex with every random guy I meet at a bar. I'm scared that I will go through all this work and money and time and stress to figure out what's wrong with me, and in the end, it won't matter because we'll never really figure it out, and there won't be anyone to care, anyway.
She didn't even ask if I had any questions.
You're supposed to ask.