My left ovary was in pain.

If you’re just tuning in and haven’t browsed the archives, you should know that I really love my lady-parts. I listen to them, I take care of them, I try to give them everything they could possibly want or need. “Take care of your vagina and it will take care of you” is an oft repeated phrase of mine. 

(Although it does inaccurately use the word vagina in place of “vagina/vulva/womb conglomeration” which gives me a mental image of Shonen manga robots when they connect together to make a MEGA ROBOT. I suppose “female uro-genital system” or “female reproductive system” are accurate but they sound so clinical. I’m just going to keep calling it my lady parts or vagina and prepare myself for the onslaught of “Improper terminology!!” that sometimes follows a post. ::ducks under a pile of lacy undergarments:: )

Back to my ovary. There was a lot of pain in the area of my left ovary. It sucked. It felt like being stabbed, although I’ve never been stabbed so I can’t say for sure. The pain started during vigorous sex. Since the man I was having vigorous sex with was still in my apartment, I felt it was appropriate to ask him to come to the gynecologist with me. If by ask you mean tearfully repeat “aaaEEEEEEwhimperwhimperOUCH” in a squeaky voice a few times until the meaning can be deciphered. I think he would have offered to come if I hadn’t asked. That kind of behavior is usually appreciated, just saying…

My hard drive had just crashed as well. I keep meticulous notes on what my vagina is exposed to, when it bleeds, anything strange that happens, when all of these things start and end, when my frequent STD tests were taken, but I’d been keeping all of these notes in my iCal, which had disappeared with the rest of the contents of my hard drive.

I was filling out paperwork in the gynecologist’s office. I couldn’t remember when my last period started because I always write it down and then forget it. I was headed into the bathroom to wipe with a sterile wipe and then pee in a cup. I started to panic because the doctor needs data in order to diagnose and my lack of computer back-up meant I couldn’t give her much data. Actually, I’d been panicking for a day or so because my vagina was in intense horrible stabby pain and I was starting to feel like shooting myself in the face would really be a more tolerable option than what I was feeling, but the lack of data added a bit more panic and put me into near-hyperventilation mode.

“I can’t remember when my last period was, she’s going to need to know this, oh man.”

“The 29th”

“You’re good….”

“I checked your twitter.”

Matt is calm. This is a good quality, a nice balance to my generally frenetic way of interacting with the world. I started to feel like I might make it through the appointment without curling up in a ball and having a spectacularly melodramatic meltdown. 

The doctor, a statuesque woman with a German accent in knee-high stiletto boots did some poking and prodding, threw out a few possibilities:

“It could be a Hernia…”

“OH GOD I’ll never be able to do a sit-up again.”

“Or an Ovarian Cyst…”

“Gah! They’re going to have to operate and take some giant thing out of my abdomen and cut it open to check for cancer!”

“Or PID…”

“But I get tested for Chlamydia all the time. Literally, all the time. Sometimes I just go get a test for peace of mind when I haven’t even been potentially exposed to something.”

“Well, we’re going to start you on antibiotics just in case and then send you for a sonogram and a this and a that and maybe this other thing.”

“Eeeeugh, antibiotics. Ok.”

Later, the sonogram technician told me she could see fluid and what very much looked like the remains of a cyst. I tweeted about it. It turns out that quite a few women who I am friends with, or who follow me on twitter have had this kind of awful experience.

I want to know why I didn’t know about this possibility. I want to know why we can all list the vague symptoms of a heart attack or choking or the flu and know what to do in those situations but we aren’t as well educated on some of the things that can go awry with our reproductive organs. I want to know why giving women this kind of knowledge before they’re in huge amounts of pain isn’t a priority. Obviously the answer is to discuss it. 

Suggestions/comments/graphic personal anecdotes?

-Stoya