How it Went Down or Ten Easy Steps to Reproductive Freedom

1. For most of my adult life, I've had heavy periods. I hate justifying to nurses and doctors (and even friends and coworkers sometimes) that I know what "heavy" is, so I'm not going to do that here. Pretty much whatever people think heavy is and then multiply that by ten. Unless you've had a transfusion because of your period, my heaviness is probably heavier than yours. And it isn't a competition, I'm just trying to establish that what I was living with was unreasonable, unhealthy, and soul-sucking.

2. In the beginning of 2017, I started keeping track of how long and bad my periods were by using a period tracking app. Thanks to Christine P. because I'd never thought of using one before, and it was pretty handy. The problem with the one I chose, however, was that there wasn't enough nuance. There were only three icons to describe heaviness, and I couldn't figure out how to determine what typical heavy was (which I experienced) and ridiculously heavy (which I also experienced). Anyway, I started keeping track because they started to get worse. They were more unpredictable: longer, shorter, early, late, start then stop then start again. I was trying to see if I could figure it out.

At some point in 2017, my gynecologist was going to put me on an IUD. He said they'd order it then call me to make an appointment to place it. Weeks went by and I hadn't heard from them, so I called back, the nurse said they'd call me back after checking on my claim, and again, no call back. I let it drop because I wasn't overly thrilled about being on birth control, even if it meant controlling my periods. I was on the pill once years ago and all I did was cry and cry.

3. By the end of December 2017, I'd been bleeding for two months straight. I called my gynecologist. He put me on a birth control pill and put in an order for another IUD. It takes a while for them to order it, then the pharmacy calls to verify everything, it gets sent to the doctor, and then you gotta make an appointment for it to be inserted. Long process. In the meantime, I was still bleeding heavily and was diagnosed anemic. By my internist, not my gynecologist. Because yes, I was seeing her about this same issue, too. In fact, she'd diagnosed me anemic long before I first saw her about my period problems, but didn't know the cause at that time. So, my numbers were dismal. In August 2017, my hemoglobin was 9.5 (normal values between 11.2-15.7, according to the lab results). In January 2017, it was 8.5, and most recently last month was back up to 9.5.

4. The anemia sucked. I know some of you are/have been anemic. I was tired, short of breath all the time, suffered muscle weakness and cramps, was cold and pale. I couldn't think clearly, I couldn't focus, couldn't remember the names of things. Walking to the bus stop, I was breathing heavily, and whenever I stood up, I was light-headed and faint. Once, I went to Ala Moana Shopping Center with my mom and Lucy. We were only in Macys for less than an hour and I told my mom I had to go home. I was shivering and light-headed and was afraid I'd faint. And it wasn't easy to build up my iron stores when I was continuously bleeding. I was taking multiple iron supplements and a multi-vitamin daily, in addition to eating iron rich foods (red meat, mussels, clams, mushrooms, and dark leafy greens, etc.) and avoiding caffeinated drinks like coffee. In fact, I'm so used to avoiding coffee that I've only had three cups of coffee since my surgery. I just forget that I can drink it now.

5. So, the first IUD finally gets put in. I go back a couple of weeks later for a follow-up, but my gynecologist can't find it. He does an ultrasound right then and there, and it's still eludes him. He schedules another ultrasound at Queens, and they don't find it. It's concluded that my body expelled the IUD. I'm unwilling to give up, so I ask him if we can try again, and we do. In the meantime, I continue with the birth control pills (which do nothing, by the way, in terms of regulating my flow) until the new IUD comes in. This time, I actually catch the IUD as my body expels it a few days later.

Backing up a bit, my doctor expects that the IUD will eventually regulate my period. He says that after I get my next period, I need to call him immediately because he wanted me to get another ultrasound sometime between days four and seven of my cycle. He says that an ultrasound on those days will give him the best picture if I have any fibroids or other anomalies, I guess. I never make that call because I never stop bleeding.

6. My gynecologist recommends the Nexplanon implant. He doesn't do that procedure, but another doctor in their practice does it for me. That doctor seems unsurprised that I've expelled two IUDs because of my history of heavy flows (see? THAT'S how heavy. Didn't even notice, couldn't even feel two IUDs leave my body). His opinion is that the Nexplanon won't actually work because he thinks fibroids are to blame for my problems and the implant won't affect the fibroids. But I'm willing to try anything at this point. Again, there's a waiting period in which the pharmacy calls me, they send the device to the doctor, and we make an appointment for insertion. This doctor changes my appointment time TWICE and insertion is delayed by weeks.

7. Not too long after the Nexplanon is inserted, I begin a new period. At the worst part of it, I'm changing a pad AND tampon at least every 20 minutes, and experiencing pelvic pain and bloating. I could be at work or out with family and friends or at someone's house or whatever and have to go to the bathroom every 15-20 minutes. So I would avoid doing anything I didn't actually have to do. I remember when I told Meredith I couldn't go to foam rolling class with her. I'd declined other invitations before with half-truths (we're doing family night, I have to do something else, blah blah blah), but I felt bad. I didn't want her to stop inviting me, so I told her the truth. I said that I was afraid to go because I was bleeding heavily and that foam rolling seemed like wringing a wet rag dry. I pretty much avoided the beach-- a usual place of refuge, if you recall.

8. That last period was in August. I tried to see my gynecologist, but the first nurse never even recorded that I called, let alone expected a call back (as told to me by the second nurse I spoke to at the end of the day). But my internist squeezed me in the next day and ran labs. Low hemoglobin again, of course.

9. About a week later, I go back to see my gynecologist. He finally says those beautiful words, "Let's do the hysterectomy." I wanted to weep. I wanted it that very day! But because he doesn't do the robotic surgery, he refers me to another doctor in the practice. This requires more time for a consultation and examination. It's this doctor that finally does the biopsy, which wasn't even on my own radar. The biopsy was pretty uncomfortable. It wasn't as bad as I remember the foley catheter being-- I had tears for the foley, but nothing but gasps and squeezed eyes for the biopsy. The results, he reported, was that the cells were precancerous. Good thing I was getting the hysterectomy, he said, because that's what we would have done, anyway.

10. The hysterectomy should have only lasted three hours, but it took five. Charlie says not only did no one communicate to him why it was taking so long, the staff was actually rude to him. Surgery went long because of the C-section scarring, but otherwise it was successful. I was home by 5pm the same day. I slept a lot. Charlie and the kids took good care of me, feeding me healthy and appropriate meals, keeping my water cup filled and fresh, bringing me my meds (ibuprofen and stool softener) on time. I needed help standing up, sitting down, and walking at first, but the pain and discomfort wasn't nearly as bad as I'd expected. Today, just shy of two weeks post-op, I feel almost normal. I've actually slept lying down two nights in a row, I went out all day yesterday ALONE, and even the itching around my incisions has subsided. I get very tired going out, I can't wear most of my clothes yet because it squeezes and rubs the surgery site, but I've stopped taking all meds. Oh, and I can't carry, push, or pull anything over ten pounds still. At least I'm pooping, though. Hallelujah for that.

There were times in the last year when the bleeding wasn't terrible. It was like white noise in the background. I wasn't anemic during those times and I could do most of what I wanted, like work out vigorously and spend the day at the mall. But I also still felt during the best of times this tiredness and grogginess that wasn't necessarily always physical. I couldn't be motivated to tidy up, for example. I couldn't make the effort for the tiniest of tasks.

I'm sure some of you shake your head at me sharing this information so publicly like it's gross. A gross overshare. The reason I share is because my experiences resonate with others, as evidenced by the many women who have shared with me their own similar experiences. Bleeding constantly for a year AND bleeding ridiculously heavy for large portions of a year takes a hard toll. The physical limitations and discomforts I can handle, but the emotional and psychological challenges are great. Again, if I hadn't had the hysterectomy scheduled for the day after my period started (which was only a couple of weeks after my last period), I would have despaired. I don't know what that would have looked like. It is depressing. Your whole life revolves around bleeding. You plan when you bathe, sleep, leave the house around it. You plan your outfit down to the underwear. There are clothes, mostly shorts and pants, that I haven't worn in months because I was afraid of a leak.

Don't worry. I'm not gonna get on my soapbox this time. I just wanted to provide a brief record of what I went through. For those of you who think this is an overshare probably aren't reading this far anyway, but I'd kick you if I could for your opinion. Women are made to feel shame about their periods. We aren't encouraged to talk about it, we hide the fact that we're bleeding, we discreetly put our pads and/or tampons in our pockets or a cute bag when we go to change, and we're mortified at the slightest leak. This is normal. So normal that we don't even question it.

Whoops, sorry. I said I wasn't going to do that. I'm just saying that it's difficult for many women to talk about what's going on with their bodies because we are constantly being encouraged to shut up about it. And even though that encouragement is not always mean spirited, it's still a silencing. Ugh, I'm killing me. I sound like my sharing is a fricken act of martyrdom. Please understand that I don't take myself that seriously.

Anyway, I hope this helps someone. Even if it doesn't, it helps me to remember. My journey isn't pau yet. We don't know what can happen, and life can change in an instant. If anyone wants to talk about their challenges and journey, feel free to send me a private message or text or email. If you just need someone to vent to, I believe I'm a sympathetic ear, go ahead and vent. If you are despairing, I've been there, too.

Finally, I have an appointment tomorrow to get the Nexplanon removed from my arm. I believe it's making me an emotional wreck. Despite overcoming these obstacles, I find myself sad all the time, and it's getting harder and harder to fight that back even knowing that the birth control is likely playing with me. I hope that its removal will mean an improvement in my emotional well being. I just want to feel okay again. I want to feel like myself again. I'm ready to be healthy and active and happy.