probing

Warning:  may be TMI for some readers

As a young girl, I remember adding up how many times I had had my period.  “Oh my, this is my 7^th time having my period!”  “Wow, twenty times I’ve had my period.”  When I was young, I looked at my period as something exciting, that bridge to ‘womanhood,’ whatever that meant at the time.  Twenty-six years later, I have come to loathe that special relative, Aunt Flo.  It amazes me as I look back on how I felt about menstruating over the years:

• This period business is exciting stuff!
• Even practicing safe sex, the arrival of the red beast always meant I was not pregnant.  (YAY!)
• F&*K!  My period showed up.  Meaning I wasn’t pregnant.  (Boo!)
• Menstruation is a nasty part of a woman’s life.  Men can suck it!
• Seriously?  Does my fucking uterus hate me?  

It makes me chuckle to recall the excitement, the ups & downs, and even the despised feeling I have now.   So, why the title “Probing?”   It’s something my vagina knows a bit too much about, in my opinion. 

I’ve always had heavy period with major cramping.  About three years ago, I had an IUD put in.  The majority of women with this form of birth control end up not having a period.  Of course, I do not fall in that category.  I have always had my period and within the last year, it has gotten worse.  At this point, I have my period more than I don’t each month.  As in more than half the month I have to wear some form of panty protection.  After talking with the doctor about it again, we decided to have an ultrasound for a look-see.  I’ve had cysts on my ovaries before and who knew what was going on in there.

U/S day:  I drink my 300oz of water, but when I arrive at the appointment I do not have that full feeling in my bladder nor do I have to pee.  So, after the tech begins she stops and has me drink more water.  Fifteen minutes later, my bladder is finally protesting all the liquid and I am getting my outer lady bits pushed on with that lovely gel and rolling probe.  Which always reminds me of roll-on deodorant.  Sorry, off track there for a minute.  I know as she’s whipping through the screen shots that I will most likely be having an internal u/s as well.  And within minutes, she shares that the “outer part of the u/s is done, but she will have to conduct an internal u/s as well.”  Big surprise.   So, I scoot my ass up onto this triangle thing so my vagina and other lady bits are at optimal viewing and  out comes the long white probe at which point I am asked if I want to insert it myself.  Really?  Can I get a few minutes to myself too?  My response is this “I told them at work I was going to get probed.”  Yes, I said that.  And was instantly mortified.  Thankfully, the tech is cool and laughs with me.  The probe is inserted and my parts start to get an up-close and personal viewing.  Then my bladder fills again and I have to use the restroom again.  And have the probe re-inserted.    Finally we finish and I get to head back to the restroom to pee (again).  I love that you are given nothing to wipe yourself with except for the rough paper towel in the bathroom.  I always use the paper sheet they give you as it’s a bit softer.  She walks me out, just showing me enough to get back out of the building.  Kind of like a date that you just gave out to, but in the end all they wanted was for you to put out.  Long story short, they haven’t a clue as to what my uterus’ problem is beyond saying a big “fuck you” to me almost every day of the month.  

After years of begging the doctor to take out my lady bits, we are a step closer.  I will be having an ablation done in October.  That sounds like total fun!  Having my uterine lining burned off is like me telling my uterus to go fuck herself.  

At this point, anytime my life partner wants to bitch about having his prostate checked now that he’s 40, I pretty much tell him to fuck himself too.