Welcome.
Last week while writing this blog, I was on just about a million different drugs. For a brief period, I was on percocets (molly, percocets) *cues flutes, bounces shoulders*. I cannot help but sing that every time, but I assure you that percocets are not as fun as Future makes them sound- which leads me to believe that he has never taken a percocet.
The feeling that you get is lethargic, sluggish, and just plain TIRED. Not to mention, incredibly detrimental to your health if taken when not needed. By doctors order, I was also taking a high dosage of ibuprofen, birth control, antibiotics, and interchanging between benadryl and zyrtec because I somehow had an allergic reaction to my damn bandages.
On March 13th, I had surgery to remove cysts from my ovaries. It’s pretty common for women to have cysts or fibroids, but they usually come and go and are not of large size. One of mine was roughly the size of a grapefruit and one a little smaller than a lemon. This is no comparison to the size of the cysts that some women have dealt with. I also have had very painful periods for years. There is often this myth that I hear, that some women are exaggerating the pain that we're in and that it is just part of the process. Some pain is normal. Debilitating pain is not.
I think it’s important for me to tell this story for many reasons, but mainly because women often go through things, not knowing that there are many other women going through the same or similar. You are not alone.
ALERT, this is about to get personal. Similar to a lot of people, I went through quite a few years of bad sex before it actually became enjoyable. When I lost my virginity in high school, it was consensual but incredibly painful and hardly enjoyable. I actually was in extreme pain until the next day and told n o o n e. I think that I was embarrassed, maybe even ashamed? I tried two or three times after that, and it still was painful almost every time. So I went on a sex haitus for over a year after this. I also had very little understanding of my body.
Still, even when I had good sex, sometimes I would have times where I would become extremely inflamed, would have a lot of pain, and once I literally had to put the p*ssy on ice. **So men, if a woman starts “running from it,” she is probably involuntarily protecting her body, so please don’t think it’s because your genitals are amazing. [sorry]
One summer I was with a guy, and it hurt so bad that I had to stop him. This was awkward because he was not my boyfriend, and this moment of pain made me feel really vulnerable. He ended up being really cool about it. After I dropped him off, the pain actually started getting worse. I ended up bleeding a lot. That was scary. At this point, I was on summer vacation from college, living with my parents. Although I was concerned, I really did not want to tell my mom but I finally broke down and told her after a few hours. This was incredibly awkward since we had never even spoke about the fact that I was actually having sex. Around the time that the bleeding stopped, I went to an Urgent Care facility. I definitely should have gone to a hospital much sooner, if not immediately. By the time I was seen, my symptoms were pretty much gone. But they immediately scheduled me for an ultrasound after ruling out pregnancy and STI’s. They were able to see that I had cysts. This later cost my family thousands of dollars because we didn’t have insurance at the time.
I got little to no answers from the tests, just 1(8OO) numbers calling that I had long since learned to dodge. This gave me no interest in going back to the doctor. Not to mention the judgmental tones I received when explaining my situation, the initial perception that I was pregnant, and straight faces when I tried to make a joke because I was nervous. Weren’t THEY supposed to be making small talk and corny jokes to make me feel better while perusing around my vag? That was 2014.
Fast forward to the end of 2016. My breath is short, I’m trying to breath but it’s seeming to take everything out of me to catch it. I clutch my stomach with my right hand and my head with my left, and scurry to the bathroom. I sit on the toilet to try to use the bathroom, but it feels like I may puke, faint, or both. Extreme pain is shooting from my walls up to my stomach and back down. Should I go to the hospital? This has happened before, but last time it was less extreme and it went away within an hour. I decided to wait it out. (exactly what you're not supposed to do)
“Babe, hand me my heating pad,” I said as I turn my head to face my boyfriend who is OSCAR award winningly calm.
I lay down with the heating pad at my lower abdomen and he rubs my stomach. Eventually, I fall asleep and the pain subsides.
The next day I tell my big sister this story, and immediately she scolds me for not going to the doctor. I think I called her because I needed someone to yell at me to go. “She’s right,” I think to myself.
First step: find a good gynecologist. I text a few of my girlfriends, and NO ONE has a place that they would recommend. SAD. Not on their part, but on the many gynecologists that do not take the time to ensure the comfort of their patients, the lack of black doctors, and the fear that many of us reasonably have of doctors.
After searching I find a black, kind, nonjudgemental doctor from zocdoc. Whoever created that app, BLESS YOUR SOUL. She’s located all the way in SOHO, but I am willing to make the trip for a good experience. I connected with her on a spiritual level... Here comes another ultrasound, an MRI. I need to remove these cysts from my body. “It’s possible that they could twist and rupture and they could cause further complications with your health,” my doctor says. I agree, and decide that now is the time. I am an “independent contractor” so this is one of the few times that I will have the availability to just take weeks away to recover without it being an issue with a boss.
I am just beginning to establish myself as a creative, so yes, I missed out on a few gigs but that’s okay. If I don’t take care of my health now, I might miss out on a lot more gigs later. I didn’t feel too nervous about the surgery. I was strangely almost excited until I got closer to the date. I would be finding out if my cysts, and the pain were directly connected.
When my parents offered to come from Virginia to support me during my surgery, I quickly retorted that they didn’t have to. It made me feel kind of childish, and maybe gave the surgery a seriousness that I did not want it to have, but I am really glad I shared that experience with them. I could tell that they were more nervous than I was (which they still won’t admit), and the looks on their faces did not exactly make me feel calm when my surgeon showed up late for surgery. I am still waiting to go over the results with my doctor, but apparently everything looked good in there. They checked everything I got going on inside so I will probably find out a lot about my body when I meet with my doctor next week. The good part about this surgery is that I have been spending the majority of my time becoming inspired because I have so much down time. I have watched numerous photography documentaries such as “Half past Autumn: The Life and Works of Gordon parks,” (yall should check that out) listened to creative podcasts, and have been writing and doing research for a children’s novel that I have been working on for a few months now. I feel extremely inspired, and I cannot wait to heal completely, get outside, and shoot again.
Until next time...
Morals
1: If you feel pain in moments that are meant to be pleasurable, something is probably wrong.
2: Take care of your health, experiment with reputable natural remedies, find a doctor that you feel comfortable with, and do not hesitate to ask for/receive help.
3: Do, watch, or listen to things that make you feel inspired consistently, especially when you’re down.
‐V.
