Like I said earlier, my health is "ok" with the exception of a problem. I have polycystic ovary syndrom. I've known this for years, but I didn't understand it.
"Why?" you ask.
Well, dear Reader, it is because most doctors are generally money grubbing morons with little if any sense of doing the right thing anymore. It is an exceptionally bitter statement, I know, but as you read on, I suspect you will understand where I am coming from on this matter. You may, possibly, even empathise with is. First, to those members of the medical community that may have taken some measure of offense at what I just said, I apologize for offending you. Please note the clause "most" is used in the earlier statement, not "all." I recognize that such blanket statements are invariably false. (Irony = using a blanket statement to denounce blanket statements)
My wonderful doctor, when I was diagnosed with PCOS explained to me that it causes me to have light facial hair and cysts upon my ovaries. I was told that it required hormone therapy to control the problem and it was the reason why my menstrual cycle was so horribly messed up. Over the last 5 (approximately) years, I had that simple understanding. I told myself, "Well, you don't need to fear being sterile. You just get cysts from time to time. It's not so horribly bad."
Mind you, as a child and for many years, I was terrified that I would not beable to have children due to the genetic complications that I've inherited from my maternal line. During the last 3 years, I had managed to actually convince myself of that earlier semi-positive statement. My occasional terrors were precicely that, occasional terror. Then, my dear and darling husband and I started to try to have a child.
That started back towards the end of last year. During March, I started to have problems. I had missed my period and I also felt like I had the beginnings of a cyst. I didn't worry about it, because I said "Hey, it may be that I'm pregnant." I did one of those wonderful stick tests, but no dice. I shrugged and proceeded not to worry about it. April came along, and that feeling of having a cyst had gotten worse. Also, no menstrual flow. I tried another test but it came up negative. So, I called my doctor.
As far as doctors go, I have to say that my current general practitioner is probably the best that I've had. He's right up there with the lung specialist that made it possible for me to breathe easily again with out the assistance of an Oxygen bottle at myside. He did a quick exam, deemed that an ultrasound was in order after doing a urine test and determining that I was not pregnant. In the midst of this period of time, I am having all the little stomach problems that go with having a cyst.
By this point of time, it is now the middle of May. No period, I'm utterly freaked out. Doing my best to remain calm, despite my obvious discomfort, and failing miserably. My dear friend Stargazer and my darling husband can attest to that. I was on the verge of anxiety attacks several times. The day of the ultrasound, the cyst pops. I have never had the experiance of having a cyst pop while I was conscious. I have had them rupture while I was sleeping and wake up roughly 8 hours later with my side feeling sore, almost like a bruise.
I was doubled over in pain so intense that I was immediately in tears. Two Aleve did nothing to it. It was 8 am and we were getting ready to go to work on a Friday morning. That didn't happen. Hubby and I first rushed to the doctor's office. We discovered that the office was closed on Fridays. So, we went to the other office that was affiliated. I was seen after a short wait where I recieved uneasy looks from the others in the waiting room. I suspect my face was white as a sheet at the time. A few gentle probing pokes, my nearly shouting in pain, and the time of the ultrasound was moved up. It also went from the standard investigation of the region of the ovaries and uterus to a full abdominal ultrasound.
So, we get into the car and stand on the gas all the way to the City. We just manage to get to the center for the ultrasound/radiology company (that's affiliated with the health care provider organization that my doctor is a part of) in time for my schedualed appointment. By this time, roughly three hours have passed. The pain has moved from feeling like some one had taken a hot poker and shoved it into my guts and twirled it around like spaghetti to just feeling like some one had taken a knife and done so. Still wretched, but not to the point of doubled over and crying, mostly.
The only word I can use to describe the abdominal ultrasound is excruciating. I had never had one before. I never wish to experience one again. It was most painful. The end of that day, my side had gone to feeling like it was kicked and it was determined that the cyst had ruptured. It was also determined that I had 2 more, much smaller cysts, on the other ovary. So, I got to go to a gynecologist. Not my most favorite thing in the world, but not half as embaressing as going to the dentist.
At the dentist, it's obvious that I take poor care of my teeth. The gynecologist is usually fairly happy to see that I take good care of my body, teeth not withstanding. Does the drama end here, with the specialist? No. I'm never that lucky. Life simply is not easy. Don't ever assume there will be a simple answer for me. Just ask my friend Stargazer, who complains every time I ask for a tarot reading "No, not the major arcana again!"
I had the dubious joy of being told by *this* doctor (ironically enough the one that had done the surgery to remove my cyst 5 yrs ago and diagnosed me) that we could not be sure that I had PCOS. We needed to do tests. I was upset, but I went forward with the tests. Tests that included one for my insulin levels, which had not been explained to me. I didn't understand the role that test would have for me in this situation. Thus, I engaged in another fit of anxiety.
After roughly a week of anxiety, I managed to not flip out. I also made sure I had a list of questions with me to get answers out of the gynocologist. (She walked in as I was writing the last few down and as she answered, I made sure I took notes!) I had the entire matter explained to me. I also had the less then stellar joy of being told that my insulin levels were off. I am hypoglycemic. Or at least, that's the diagnosis that can be made given the current tests.
I get to go and have another battery of tests done this week. I'm not looking forward to it. I freaked out initially, went to my general practitioner and said "Ok, what do I do to keep from getting diabetes?" After I had it explained to me the general changes I needed to make to my diet and that I should wait on the panic until after the fasting tests are done, I've calmed down some.
And I made the mistake of asking the Gods for some additional motivation to take care of my health and lose the extra weight I had. I'm not sure if I should be happy with this because I now know that I have a problem or upset because I am going to have to give up some of my favorite foods.
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