3.13.23
So backing tracking a little: Prior to the scare of something so major as the appendectomy, I had also struggled with migraines, and continued to do so into my early twenties.
There were a lot of “unlabeled”, or “uncommon” (or improperly diagnosed/little to no highlight) problems back then; and taking Advil every Sunday like clockwork became a habit during my childhood.
As I grew older, Advil began to no longer help, as if it diluted in ability. So I moved to Excedrin. I quickly moved from that to Tylenol, and back again, as I brushed aside my health. Too busy and uninterested. My life revolved around some form of medication to just “take the edge off” -as I accepted, with indifference and ignorance, that I actually in fact, had a very high pain tolerance; and only after a certain pain threshold was met, would I grab “whatever worked” in disregard for the source of my problems. I “patched it” with whatever helped a little.
I also consumed the fact like a habit, that, my body would quickly become “immune” to whatever I took. I would quickly and again, ignorantly, move on to something else once the prior, over-the- counter remedies didn’t work. I did this same repeat with multiple doctors and multiple prescriptions. (I hated seeing the doctor so if I went I was bad)
Now skip forward to 2013- I had my first ovarian cyst. Long story, short story; I ended up in the ER and later on the surgeon’s table having a laparoscopic procedure for removing the excess amount of blood that was too much for my body to rid itself of naturally. I was informed “these cysts would likely be a routine reappearance” and I should sample different types of prescribed birth control. **(NOTE here to any readers who don’t care to hear about female problems feel free to skip to the next paragraph** haha) Keep in mind, since I forgot to mention, I was a very active gal and “healthy” by modern standard, but a “late bloomer” growing up. I stopped growing around any taller around 15 which was about the time I experienced the ever annoying lovely lady in red.
What was/is considered a “normal” cycle should be around 5-7 days give or take, might be “bad might be easy”- but mine was hit and miss- easy come and easy go, no cramps, no fuss. And later, by the time I was in my late teens, non existent. I just didn’t have “her” show up at all.
At the time of my first cyst I had already had my first live birth child - Yea I was the girl who had come from pretty rough trauma after I left home (in another story for another time) so I had already experienced a miscarriage or two. The only way I knew this was because after several “abnormal events” (and only because I was afraid to tell a doctor what had happened to me) I finally sought a doctors opinion. After review and “doctor stuff”, and after hearing descriptions of what I had dealt with, I had even been told that I would probably “never be able to have kids” or “have a hard road” to have children due to those causes.
So imagine my surprise when I discovered one day that my “bloated belly” was actually pregnancy. After all I had no signs pointing to pregnancy, and I wasn’t supposed to be able to have any right?
After my experience with the incredibly, stupidly painful cyst (and the immense pain and eye watering hospital bill) I looked at my child and how, for even just the short time I laid incapacitated on the floor (before my partner who worked in first response, was able get assistance to me) I feared a repeat and one that was worse. I didn’t want to be in a situation of risking not being to take care of my one year old or be debilitated in a way that created a risky situation for her. So I followed doctors advice.
I now know, after extensive research and my mothers “gene” of reading the fine print; of every paperwork bundle that came with every prescription- that not only are there A LOT of warnings and “disclaimers” with each one, but they could actually CAUSE the cysts.
But, this discovery came after more painful cysts down the road…. -MeganB. (Pt3)