I’m not sure about all the butch lesbians out in the world, but I know my other butch/AG/femme aggressive/futch/NYC lesbian friends make it their business to avoid going to the GYN. I know sometimes when Callie is with her friends and had an appointment at the GYN (pre-pregnancy days) they would sit and inject their conversation with a huge dose of “oh, and at the GYN today…” Say whaaaaaattttt?!?! I will avoid the conversation at all cost. Mainly, because 1) I never go (once every 2 years or so seems like more than enough, thank you!) and 2) Why in the HELL would I want to relive the horrendous experience that is a random stranger, with a fluorescent light, with cold unknown fingers, between my legs, all up in my BIZNESS! Absolutely not! But, it was time to make my bi-(sometimes tri)yearly trip.
Going to the “lady parts” doctor is a freaking process. I’m pretty good about shaving my legs (up to the knee because my cargo shorts hit to about that point so what the heck do I have to shave higher for?!), the underarms because most of the time I can be found in an A-Shirt lounging around my house, and “the goods” are taken care of at least once every 2-3 days. When it’s time for that appointment, we’re talking about a 45 minute mission to get every single hair off my body and I find myself shaving in places I didn’t even know grew hair! I’ve got one leg up, arm over here, hand over there, other leg at some weird angle with my head in some weird Exorcistesque position trying to look at every nook and cranny to find where some dark little hair may lie, razor in one hand, looking like a Puerto Rican pretzel! Trust me! It’s complete madness! But I can’t go in there, meeting this person, exposing myself and have them be like, “Ok Wolverine! Calm down, relax, and drop your knees to the side.”
All of that said, had to go check out the ovaries today, because my PCOS has gotten the best of me. Let me run this down for u. The following are the days that I had AF…
May – 29-30
June- 6-21, 27-July 13
August – spotting all month
I’m starting to get really aggravated because there have been several times at work where I have completely bled through my clothes. Luckily for me, the times that this has happened have been on my overnight shifts (about 3 times) and the only people in the building are the security guard at the front desk and myself. It’s not like I wasn’t prepared for my period. I have a box (yes! A whole 40 count super plus BOX) of tampons in my backpack, extra pads (because when I get my period I have to wear 2 overnight pads from pretty much my bellybutton to the small of my back) and a crapload of ibuprofen/Motrin/Tylenol to keep the cramps and leg pain at bay. I STILL managed to bleed all the way through my khakis, the corner of my shirt and on my computer chair. Thank goodness I keep a container of Clorox wipes in my desk. As I explained all of this to her, she did my PAP and we talked about going on a low hormone BCP which I’m excited about (NOT), the usual “losing weight with diet and exercise” which is extremely difficult due to the PCOS, trying some Spironolactone for the male pattern hair growth (after all that shit, guess I missed a spot!) and having a transvaginal ultrasound just to kind of confirm that my PCOS was still as I had described it.
We walked over to the sonogram closet ( “room” would be giving the space too much credit), and I sat on the table, put my socked feet in the stirrups and took a deep breath. The wand was directly to my right, and I could see it there, taunting me, with its “Na-Na-Na-poo-poo! You’re gonna get it!” imaginary face. The damn thing wasn’t even looking lubricated enough and I’m thinking to myself, “Really lady!?! I keeps it tight!”. She grabbed the wand, and lucky me, she grabbed some gel out of the warmer and put a whole bunch of it on (what gave it away? The baby speculum I requested during the PAP?), and indeed confirmed all of the ridiculous amounts of tiny cysts in most of my follicles. CURSES! I was hoping it wouldn’t be as prominent as it had been 2-3 years ago, but I was wrong! While feeling tons of pressure, the need to pee desperately, and just totally uncomfortable, I suddenly had this overwhelming feeling of admiration and love for Callie. She must have been through this at least, at minimum, 6-7 times a month for 16 months. The amount of love that that woman has for me and for our family and for us, to have to endure this kind of thing countless times made me realize that I have to suck it up, put on my big girl boxer briefs (or take them off actually) and get things done so that I can one day be able to have a healthy body to host our next baby. Callie’s little embryos will hopefully like living in my body, despite how hectic and damaged it all may seem right now.
When it was all said and done, I threw my clothes back on as quickly as I could, tied up my Clark’s, washed and sanitized my hands, grabbed my prescription, made an appointment for a follow-up in 2 months (What the eff!?!?! 2 visits in one year?! This ish is getting outta hand!) and hauled ass. I got into my car and on my 25 minute drive home decided, “Hey! You know what? I’m gonna join the club of ladies who talk to their besties about their misadventures at the GYN.” And hopefully, in about a year and a few months, this will all be sorted out and my body will be ready to do what it always felt it needed/had to… Be a belly-mama…