You Don't Have To Ask Because You Know How I Feel

So, I know I've been radio silent for most of the month. There's a reason for that, I swear. The big one is, I've been sick. I mean, not like, I have the flu or anything, but my body has definately taken the opportunity to remind me that it still can malfunction on a relatively reliable basis- usually just as I have decided I'm doing pretty well.

I'd like to say that, up until two weeks ago, things were going along pretty well. I'd been meditating more, taking time to journal. I was reading a lot, and I was making a lot of progress personally. For me, it felt really good. I was getting out of bed feeling more motivated, I was more positive throughout the day, life was pretty good. And then nature decided she wanted to remind me how much fun it is to be a woman.

Now, if you're not into oversharing, what I'm about to talk about is probably not going to be up your alley. I apologize. I truly do.

My period this month nearly killed me. In fact, there was one point where I was rather wishing it would, because I wanted it all to be over. I'm no stranger to hevy flow. I'm one of those women that curses other girls who complain about their three day period because frankly, I don't care how bad you think it is, most of mine last ten days and my flow is usually heavy enough I require more than one box of feminine supplies. Its not my favorite time.

Oh, yes. I embrance my womanhood. I celebrate that my body is beautiful and in transition. I love that I'm a more powerful witch when I'm experiencing Blood on the Moon. Hooray. But seriously, I don't think that negates my very firm idea that I'd rather not than have one. This month, this was more true than normal.

I started on a Friday. I went to work, I made the best of things. I was uncomfortable, but that's part of it. I have learned to live with it. I didn't have too terrible a first day headache, so I thought it wouldn't be so bad. Then I woke up Saturday morning and things got worse. I was tired and shaky. I was bleeding really, really hard. More than usual. It was unnerving. I know I have to look after my blood sugar when I'm cycling so I picked up some steak for breakfast. I got some berries to make sure I had some nice, natural sugars in my system. I brought my herbal tea blend that helps with the cramps and the flow to work with me. Work was hell. By the time it was all over, I was tired and nauseous and my head hurt pretty bad.

Then the cramps started. I don't usually have them. If its a particularly bad month I might a little, and I'll curl up on the couch with a hot pad and sip tea and try not to be too much of a whiner. But its not normally like this. I went to bed early, but couldn't sleep. The bleeding and the cramps got worse. Then then more painful than that. By three or four in the morning, I was in the bathroom weeping when I wasn't throwing up from the pain. Not my best night.

By four thirty I was begging Kitten to take me to the hospital. The bleeding was as bad, if not worse, than it had been, the pain from the cramps, the vomiting and the now full-blown migraine that I had come with this particular cycle were totally unbearable. I really, truly wished I was dead. (I'd liek to point out,too, because I'm sure you've noticed I made no mention of painkillers...I can't take over the counter pain meds. I'm allergic to NSAIDs so Tylenol in 100 mg doses is all I can have. Not Midol, no Aspirin, nothing)

When we got to the hospital they immediately gave me something to stop the vomiting. I passed out in the waiting room, because lets face it even when the hospital is empty, you're required to sit out there for at least an hour. I think they try to see if you're really sick or something, assuming that if you aren't bleeding or actively dying that you might just be a sissy. I'm not sure. But when the girl asked me to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10, I told her I was somewhere between and 8.5 and 9. Totally true, too. I look back and try to think of a time when I was in moer pain, and I come up short.

When I finalyl got a room, I didn't even see a doctor or nurse before they sent in a phlobotomist to draw bood. I very weakly told the poor guy he was wasting his time if he was giving me a pregnancy test. He looked at Kitten and apologized to me. Then he showed me all five vials they gave him, so I assume they weren't just checking to make sure I wasn't pregnant or having a miscarriage. (I found out later they were also testing me for every STD known to man, which I could have also told them I didn't have, seeing as how I was tested recently, and you know, only have two sex partners, both of whom are clean.) I will say this, my guy got a good stick on me, it didn't hurt the way they normally do, and he was incredibly good looking and smelled like chocolate and Easter grass. I rather liked him. I told Kitten I wanted to request him next time I had to get blood work. It almost made me forgive him for taking all that blood, when in my mind, I clearly didn't have much to lose.

The nurse came, hooked me up to a bunch of machines, gave me an IV, hung some fluid on me, and asked me a ton of questions. Then the doctor. She asked a bunch of the same questions, and honestly, I rather got tired of telling them I was an 8 on a ten scale for pain. Like it was changing or something.

Turns out, I have low blood pressure. Looking into that, seems like a good reason I'm tired all the effing time, and why I get sleepy or fatigued after long period of standing or short periods of light exercise. It explains a lot, actually. It also explains why they wouldn't give me morphine. I say this without complaint. Honestly, it frightens me how they hand that shit out like candy in the ER, so I wasn't bitter. Whatever they did to keep the pain from killing me, that was fine. I didn't care how they did it.

I ended up with a drug called Fentynol (I think I spelled that right) which is like morphine, but won't lower my blood pressure. They gave me a lot of it. They also gave me benadryl (I'm not sure why. I think they explained it but I don't remember it) and a couple of anti-nausea medications. Hoenstly, there were like, seven or eight vials of medicine that went into my IV tube, so I can't remember a whole hell of a lot except the painful parts. And there were more after the painkillers, which is frightening.

I had to have a vaginal ultrasound. I'm going to say this as lovingly as I can. My tech was a fucking deamon. I mean it. I was so drugged I couldn't hold my head up, and that woman still managed to hurt me with that wand. I mean, big time. I almost cried. And I am NOT a cryer. Here I am, propped up on what I dubbed the cheeze wedge of doom, and she manages to make me feel bad about myself while I am laying there, bleeding all over myself, whimpering in pain because apparently the word "gentle" is not in her vocabulary. No, don't mind me mam. I'm sorry I'm inconveniencing you. I know I'm not a glowing expectant mother, so go ahead and make me feel like shit. She probably assumed I was miscarrying, or I had an abortion or something. She was pretty rough.

Kitten was pissed because when it was all over, the woman asked why I thought I needed Kitten's help int he bathroom to clean up. Well, I can't even stand upright, you just maimed me, I'm in so much pain the drugs are wearing off, and I'm covered in blood from navel to knee. Maybe, just maybe, I need assisatnce. Oh, she was mean. And Kitten had to ask for a clean gown for me, even though it looked like I had slaughtered a goat in my lap; because of course, through all of this hospital experience, I was not allowed to wear even a pad to protect myself from my blleding. Gross.

After my ultrasoundI was also treated to a pelvic exam, which, you know, I wasn't too afraid of. I should ahve been. Apparently, I've been spoiled with doctors who warm their hands in water, warm the tools, use plenty of lubrication and treat me gently. You know, being a lesbian and all, my doctors usually wont open those stupid tong looking things to the widest setting because IT HURTS ME. Not like I'm getting a whole lot of large object down there, in fact, the stupid ultrasound wand was pretty painful for me because of its size. No, no, no, not this ER doc. She was very, uh, cold. And efficient, and not concerned about my pain. At all.

I never thought I'd say this, but I should have requested male doctors. They're way more gentle because they have to be.

After all this nonsense, a UA and a cup of juice, and a grand total of nearly 11 hours in the ER and here's what I discovered: I have bad periods. My periods are escalated by the fact that I have cycts on my left ovaary. One of them might have torn, which may or may not have caused my increased pain and bleeding. This is apparently totally normal. If I go to my regular doctor, she can put me on birth control so the cysts will reduec in size. They packed me off with a prescription for Trammadol (which is awesome for killing pain, but highly addictive. I've only had three since I left because I'm trying to be a tough bitch) and a note to tell my work I was in the ER and not to fire me.

Crap.

The worst part? I still bled for ten days. I thoguht I had stopped at day 6, which I was delighted about, at least some bonus for having to deal with all that. Nope...two days later I started all over again. Bitter.

I will say this, I was really aware of how loved I am. Kitten took a day off work to be with me in the hospital. I got messages on my phone and facebook from friends and coworkers, who had (it turns out) hounded Kitten and Oscleot for updates on my condition for the entire time I was in the hospital and even a couple of days afterwards. Hedgewitch had what she calls faithful dog syndrome, and came up to the ER to sit with me while I was waiting to get my tests done, though to be frank, I remember she sounded like she had a cold, she was wearing blue scrubs and I think she held my hand for a while, but I was so out of it, I don't remember much more. I even got a kiss on the forehead from Flyguy at work, who was sweet enough to tell me he was really worried about me in a rather reproachful tone that indicated maybe I shouldn't scare him like that again. He came to sit with me Monday night too, and made me go to bed when my meds kicked in. It was nice of him.

I'll say this. I don't want to go on birth control. I hate what it does to your body. I don't want my hormones messed with. I don't want to pay for it, and honestly, I think its stupid because one of the beauties of being a lesbian is I dont have to take that shit because I can't get pregnant. Sigh. Then again, I really, really don't want to go through that again.

I've spent the last two weeks recovering, because I'm still really tired. Hell, nine of those days I was still on my period. I've been dealing with the side effects of the meds they gave me, which mostly involve me needing a lot more fiber, because they block you up something fierce,which - suprise- causes cramps!

Anyway, I'm almost back on task. I'm ready for Beltane, which is next week. I'm preparing a ritual for Litha with Sakura now. I've gotten back to journaling and meditating, although my meditating is no-space meditating. No visions for me, just quiet and white light, so I can focus on healing myself.

I know is no excuse, but at least now you know why I've been so quiet. Sitting at the computer was a challege, so now that I'm mobile, and useful again, I might have soemthing new and interesting to tell you. Maybe. Or, at least, somethign that doesn't have to do with ym malfunctioning girl parts.

Take care, y'all
AGxx