#just not the issue I went in for. shes a very good gyno

[llycaons]

this entire month is probably going to feel like a sprint. im working then visiting a friend (!!!!) then working this weekend then having several important doctor's appointments and a screening of princess mononoke SUBBED then going away for conneticon then going to a PT appointment I'm actually very excited about then working nights for the next week and a half and then it's vacation and my birthday and then almost immediately after I come back it's time to move!! wow!!! im gettong overwhelmed just thinking about it but at least the days will go fast. I hope

[what-if-nct]

Male doctors are the devil. My mother didn't see a doctor for years because there were no female doctors in our vicinity. I once went to A&E because I thought I was having a heart attack (spoiler alert: it was a panic attack) and the female nurses were so sweet, and then the male doctor came in, told me I was being dramatic and that I should try meditation. I cried so much when I got home. I hope you feel better tomorrow x

They aaaarrree. They're always so dismissive and don't listen at all or even try to understand or have very little empathy. And I would never even accept a male therapist. I'm sure not all male therapists and doctors are horrible but in my experience they suck. My primary doctor, she's great. wonderful, she actually listens and has told me some people are just bigger and has not even brought up my weight and just went off my blood work and wanted to check my hormones after I explained all of my issues, like she didn't boil everything down to fat = eat too much = stop eating. She wanted to check everything cause she figured it's something else. So many doctors don't even want to look further. But she was on maternity leave and I think she left the clinic. I might switch to a different clinic. Also!! the male doctor asked me what my previous doctor said about my blood work. and I said "She said everything was good" and he said "your doctor was a woman?" like that rubbed me the wrong way. That made me so upset and was part of the I hate male doctors statement. I think only women should be allowed to be doctors and nurses, Especially Gynocologists, only women should be Gynos,

[dianapana]

SH Day 3- Addicted to your touch

Day 3 – Addicted to your touch Separation Anxiety

WARNING: MENTAL ILLNESS

Disclaimer: I am not a therapist, the advice I gave in this piece might be very faulty, please take it with a grain of salt.

Modern AU, OOC

@sasuhinamonth

It all started small, when one day Sasuke announced that he’d be gone for 2 weeks due to work, the news alone made Hinata’s heartache but she smiled and wished him good luck on the project and a safe trip. Each day the feeling of missing him would grow and grow and grow until it was too big for her body to contain, and the feeling turned to pain. Her longing made her physically sick by the end of the second week.

The next stage was composed of excessive calls and texts, Hinata constantly needed to know where he was, what he was doing, whenever he’d take too long to reply the longing would come back and she’d either sink into sadness or lose herself to anger, both feelings she had not experienced much since dating Sasuke. Whenever he’d reply after a longer break, she’d ask him to come over to her house and stay the night.

That was the case on August 3rd. Sasuke came straight to her house after a long day at the office and Hinata ran to hug him, all of the negative feelings almost forgotten the moment she laid her eyes on him. His touch alone made all of her worries disappear. That was the feeling of home, in his arms.

They spent the night normally, eating dinner while watching a movie, changing and going to bed because they both had work in the morning. The issue came with the sunrise, for Hinata refused to let him leave. She cried and begged and screamed the moment he brought up work, she tore his shirt apart reasoning that he couldn’t go to work without one. The moment the white fabric hit the ground; silence fell over the room. Both of them were shocked, unable to speak due to her outburst of emotions.

Her cried aggravated, she fell to her knees and crawled to where he was, hugging his waist, apologizing over and over again. Sasuke was in deep thought, remembering all the small signs over the past month and a half. It hurt him to think that he had hurt her in any way to drive her to this moment, he patted her hair lovingly, took a deep breath and said in a broken voice “I think there’s something wrong Hina”

She looked at him with big round eyes, they were glossy and red, she blinked and looked down at the floor. “There might be…” Sasuke picked her up by her armpits and placed her in his lap, continuing to run his hand through her hair. He continued doing so until she calmed down and fell asleep, her emotions must have exhausted her. He didn’t move her from his lap for fear of waking her up, however, he picked up his phone from the nightstand and send Itachi a message telling him that he will not be going to work, he proceeded to text Kurenai as well informing her of Hinata’s absence at work too.

He spent the following few hours reading about similar situations, which mostly led to the same piece of advice, that a specialist was needed. So, he went on to search for therapists in Konoha, texting them all, asking whether any of them were free that day, two of them didn’t reply, another one was full for the week and could only see them next Wednesday, thankfully the last one agreed to meet with them after closing hours at 8:30.

Having all of that plan, all he needed to do was find a way to approach the topic when talking to Hinata, she had to agree that paying a visit to therapy would do them both good. Hinata had been asleep for about two hours now, so Sasuke took the liberty to move her onto her side of the bed and go to the kitchen to make some food for when she’d get up.

He managed to make scrambled eggs and toast and was about to go and wake her up when a cry of distress came from their room. He hurried to her side, Hinata was holding onto his pillow on the verge of tears.

“You weren’t here when I woke up” Her voice was meek and trembling. “I could hear movement in the kitchen, I knew you were there. So why, why does your absence hurt this much, despite me knowing you are here?”

He wished he had the answer, but he didn’t. He moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed, cupping her face with one hand, slowly brushing the skin under her eye with his thumb. Sasuke leaned in slowly to hiss her nose, cheek, forehead and finally the corner of her mouth. “I think to find out why, we might need some help from the outside” he closed his eyes and sighed, his breath fanning over her lips. “I talked to a man named Iruka, he’s a therapist and agreed to meet with us later today, would you be open to this idea?”

-------------

Hinata looked at him, searching his eyes and expression for any malice or negative feelings, but there was none, his openness and desire to help led her to agree to his plan, maybe they did need help.

“From what you’ve told me, this is a severe case of separation anxiety,” Iruka said, he looked kind and bore no ill feelings, Hinata had been afraid of the judgmental look he’d give her after hearing about her actions, but his eyes remained warm and understanding. “This usually manifests itself in small children, they are afraid to part from their caregivers even for a moment. In certain cases, it is believed it could appear in pregnant women as well, and usually the caregiver is their partner. Is there any possibility of this being true?”

Both Sasuke and Hinata’s eyes opened wider at the word pregnant, there was most certainly a possibility of that. They were always careful while having sex, however, Hinata was not on birth control, for they affected her badly whenever she took them as a teen so their method of contraception were condoms alone. There’s always the possibility of one breaking, a faulty one, or just them being part of the 0.01% of the population for which condoms did not work perfectly.

-------------

“I suggest you take a pregnancy test as well. As I mentioned, this is known to happen now and again so do not worry too much; however, this anxiety can affect you negatively” Iruka continued while looking at Hinata “the best way to deal with this is steady growth. In the early stages constant contact is preferred. Think of this as building up trust once again. Constant reassurance is important, always keeping promises, separation needs to happen slowly over time; from constant touch to simply being in the same room but at a safe distance, then being in separate rooms, then Hinata being alone but in a familiar and comfortable space for short periods of time. Of course, this process takes months. For some women the anxiety dies down with the birth, for others in continues after but through steady built of trust it can disappear”

They followed Iruka’s advice and went to Hinata’s gyno the next day and Iruka’s assumption proved to be true, Hinata was indeed pregnant in week 7. They were currently in the first stage of their trust-building, being in the same room, always touching. Hinata sat in his lap while they watched a movie, they held hands whenever they were outside, they’d keep bumping feet under the table as they ate. Sasuke had basically moved into her apartment, neither of them went to work. Sasuke was able to do most of his job remotely, however, Hinata applied for medical time off. Everything was going great, Hinata no longer experienced that painful longing, however, her pregnancy turned out to be a quite difficult one, as soon as they found out she was indeed pregnant, her morning sickness started, she had constant back pain and her appetite was very volatile. They’d often wake up in the middle of the night and drive around the city to find one of her cravings. During a particularly bad night 2 months after, her craving for watermelon in the winter proved difficult, to add to the issue her back pain was excruciating so she could not stay in the car for however long it would take them to find watermelon.

“Do you think…you would be all right if you stayed here and I went to find it for you…?” they had barely moved on from the ‘always touching’ stage, the process was slow but it was there.

“I…don’t know…”

“What do you want me to do Hina? You can’t even sit up properly, being in the car for maybe an hour would we awful, but being here alone would too…but it’s unwise to not follow your cravings either” He was spiralling, the situation was stressful and all he wanted was to be able to help her, he wanted to take her pain away, he wanted to give her everything she’d ever want and more.

“I think, I will be fine” Hinata finally said after thinking for a bit longer. Almost in slow motion, he nodded, ‘ok, ok, ok’ he murmured to himself as he put his winter coat over his pyjamas and stood on the bed to put his boots on. “I’ll go find you watermelon, ok? I will be back as soon as I can. I love you” he kissed her cheek and then the top of her head. She smiled and waved, but the moment his back turned to her, her smile wavered. Would she really be ok…?

Sasuke ran down the stairs to the car, he wanted to be away for as little as possible. He pulled out of the driveway and sped up as much as possible. Firstly, he’d look at the local non-stop supermarket, at the ‘exotic’ or ‘out of season’ shelf, if it wasn’t there he’d go to the local Korean market and buy some watermelon flavoured things, just in case there was nothing else anywhere; before he could think of where he’d go next his phone rang. Seeing Hinata’s name he answered immediately.

“come back…please” she was trying not to cry, he could hear it. He did an illegal U-turn and sped even more towards their apartment “I’m coming, I’ll be there in 5 minutes” Hinata replied with an ‘ok’ however she didn’t hang up, she needed to at least be on the line with him. Sasuke didn’t hang up either, not when we pulled into the driveway, not when he stopped the car, nor when he ran up the stairs. He only hung up when Hinata was in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I could, but you left and I…” she was sobbing so hard it was even difficult to understand her. “It’s ok, it’s not your fault, we moved too fast. Iruka said it’s slow. It’s no problem Hina, we can just start over” If her constantly touching him was what made her feel safe, he’d hold her close until she was ready. No more rushing of things. Once Hinata calmed down, Sasuke called Itachi.

“I’m sorry to wake you up but I need some help…could you look for some watermelon?”

[bestnoncannonship]

I'm drowning in the gender sandbox guys.

I am agender. At least....I think I am. It's the closest to what I'm feeling. In that I really do not have an attachment to any gender and cannot conceive how people identify with a gender. Like....they just FEEL a gender? All the time? No matter what they look like and what they're wearing they FEEL a gender?? Whaaaa??? Sounds hella fake but okay.

And now I'm gonna talk about that and my experience for a while, in a series of ways that's probably gonna get the gender and sexuality neo-puritans to come yell at me for not being ritually pure enough in the way I talk but.....I'm talking from my own brain, baby. This is the toolkit I'm packing right now and the world I live in and I just need to spit it out. Maybe see if it resonates with people who know more than me. I don't know. Help.

I didn't question being a woman for the longest time. I grew up in a rural area culturally dominated by "Christians" (Not Catholics. I was Catholic. That comes with a whole different set of religious traumas pre-installed. I mean the ScAaRy protestent and nondenom Christians.) You didn't question anything. Not an adults orders. Not authority. Certainly not straightness. Gender was biological. I'd never heard of a trans person. There were rumors of Gays™. For most of my life it was just "Gender is the meat suit you got stuck with, right? I got stuck with this meat suit so it's my gender, I guess." And when I finally left the middle-o-nowhere for Le Citè and I met some (mostly bianary) trans people I was like "OH! OKAY!! Having strong feelings about being in the wrong meat suit can make a gender!" And the non bianaries that I met were still playing on that bianary scale. The "bit of boths" and the "different genders for different days" varieties. They has strange attachments to genders. And the whole retoric of "Questioning your gender and feeling things about you gender is the indicator that you might be trans!!" Just furthered my feeling that I must just be female by default cause like.....I didn't question anything. I didn't think about gender. I had a COMPLETE lack of feelings about gender whatsoever and that was normal, right?? Just meat suit gender. I certainly didn't have a strong feeling about wanting to be the opposite: *gag* a man?? A straight white man? Nope! I have no desire to be a bianary man and frankly I find 99 percent of men and male culture traumatic. So I must just be meat-suit gender.

And yes, I wanted to scrape my breasts and hips and thighs off with a cheese grater. But I wrote that off as a symptom of having started putting a finger down my throat after meals when I was 6 and having a family that forced hour upon hour exercise with their thighs and tummies wrapped in saran wrap and sang "I don't love her! She's too fat for me!" to a literal toddler and put that same toddler in oversized clothes to hide the healthy baby squish that toddlers HAVE. OF COURSE I wanted to die when my breasts grew in and my hips and thighs filled out. They were evil fat deposits. And they meant nothing but unwanted attention from yucky men. (Lesbianism to be discovered some 15 years later. My comphets we're almost as bad as my compgenders.) It had nothing to do with gender. Gender is just the meat suit ....and I already hated the meat suit by the time I had breast buds, they just enhanced a disgust that I thought was normal by then. Everyone kind of hates their meat suit, right?? Yes I wanted to look like men sometimes.....but they were skinny heroin chic men. I also wanted to look like kate moss. I wanted to look like a sideways door but my family is Italian and we have hips and thighs. It's just the meat suit I was assigned. Just have to learn to deal with it and dress it in the way that it looks most socially acceptable and get on with life. And my meat suit had a very gendered look, even in the deepest throws of my illness. "All woman." "The curves of a real woman." So that was just the hand I was dealt. Like having a hard to match foundation undertone. You don't gotta like it, it's just reality. Yes, I wanted to wear nothing but waistcoats and gay vampire clothes but they weren't cut for my body type so *shrug*.

Did I start to have way too much fun cosplaying and embodying male characters? Yes. But that was just identifying with characters. I'd always identified with characters. Did I still distinctly identify with the character's gender, even when I femmed the costume to avoid the hellish pain of binding? Yes. Did it make me feel weird when people referred to my Thor as a woman, even though it was technically a femme? Yes. But that was just feminism. Heroes don't need to be called girl heroes. No gender issues here!! Besides it's not weird in fandom circles to stongly identify with people across gender lines. The fact that I found the gendernope option if there was one available in the fandom and *attached* was surely just coincidental. Right??

Did I absolutely loose my mcfreaking mind when the gyno started talking about having to take my uterus away because the amount of blood it was loosing was doing irreparable harm to my body? Yes. My gender is my meat suit. When you take it away....what am I???? A *gag* man??? Nothing at all?? Am I still even human?? If I am not *gag* male and you take away the female part of the meat suit am I an aphid? A plant? A chair? But I was comforted by a chorus of voices saying "No!! You're a WOMAN. Infertility doesn't make you not a woman! You still have a woman's body!! Because you're a woman!!! Just look at you in your skirts and with your long hair!! You're a woman!!!" So.....still a woman, I guess. Because I still LOOKED like one. Gender = the PRESENTATION of the meat suit. That made sense. The structure of my meat suit made me limited to woman-presentation. So I was woman.

Then, it was the stupidest thing, I was talking to the other half of my life on the 4/5 train on the way to a friend's house about HER issues with gender presentation and the amount of attention to detail it takes to be socially acceptable as female and she said "You just know you're a girl. Like if they just picked you up and put you in a robot body you'd be a girl?" And I was like "......no? I'd be a robot?????" "But you'd still feel like a girl???" "No.....I'd feel like a ROBOT." "BUT you'd still like hear she/her and identify with those???" "No. I'd probably identify more with It/it's because that's what I'd be. A ROBOT!" And she's like "But what if your brain got transplanted into a boy body???" "Then I'd be a boy." "But what would you feel like?" "A BOY?" "Okay but what if you had a very neutral body with like no genitals? What would you feel like then??" "I mean....then it would depend on how I'm dressed. I'd feel like what I was dressed like." And we went around like this till she surmised that my entire relationship to gender was basically "You are what you look like." Which is apparently NOT how people relate to their own gender. They "feel" it somehow?? (I genuinely thought "FEELING" like a gender was what made trans people.) I feel nothing. I identify with a lot of things and ZERO of them are a gender. I thought that was normal. I thought that was the default. Apparently it's not. And then if you ask me what I want to be.....I can't answer. I really don't want to be a gender. I guess I want to be able to put different genders on at my will, like outfits, for societal convenience. But I don't "identify" with any of them. Hell, I have sweaters I identify with more than any particular gender. But there aren't really systems in place for describing and portraying that.

Gender.exe was not installed.

I did a lot of research. Agender felt closest. I actually felt closest to a Good Omens meme about Aziraphale describing his gender as "No, thank you!" That's what I feel like. But all the agender folks were vibing that moment. So I joined 'em. I am aware that puts me under the trans umbrella, but I don't really identify with that word. I don't feel like there's any transition. Any changing. Can't change what was never there. Also I feel like it's for people who....CAN present as their gender. I would be seen as an invader in those spaces. Its not bad enough to justify being in those spaces. I can live with being gendered. I just don't have one.

In the society we live in one cannot present as "not a gender". Someone with MY body definitely cannot present as "not a gender". The clothes that they make in size "giant human with planet tits" are agressively gendered. And even in a binder.....they're still REALLY there. (Yes, a reduction is desirable but I don't have reduction money.....and you can't reduce the fact that I'm the bowl shaped robust extreme female hipbone they use in Forensic Anthropology textbooks.) It is what it is. My body will always be perceived the way it's perceived. And frankly a lot of what we perceive as genderless is just "skinny body in masc style with short hair and makeup". That's not really want I want. I don't want to cut off my hair. It's my one really good feature and I've worked hard to grow out these Valkyrie worthy lengths. Mens clothes are so limiting. And there are no gender: no thank you clothes. (One well meaning friend kept trying to send me "genderless" clothes......but it was all rail thin afabs in mens clothes with short hair and heavy makeup. That's not looking genderless. That's just being skinny.) Gender no thank you presentation is very tied to short hair and thin bodies. So I've accepted that I don't get to play in the gender sandbox outside of the privacy of my own mind. It's a societal flaw. But whatever.

But pronouns are starting to really bother me. Everyone is so into them and identifying with them. And like.....I don't get it. I don't get the joy. I don't think I've found the one. Like.....I'm used to she. I will always be read as she. I will always be Miss and Ma'am in stores and restraunts. So I just kind of roll with it. I don't hate it. I don't like it. It's just a thing that I have to have to exist in society. Like a social security number. I actually think I identify with my social security number more. There's no point in making myself uncomfortable with something that's just going to be a part of my life. And I don't want to be the kind of person who expects people to address me by a pronoun they can't see and aren't used to. It's too much to ask of the average citizen of a gendered society to go through that much gender theory for just me. So "she" is an inevitable part of my life. And He....well ......I don't hate it. I dont like it. It's just there. I certainly don't get called it. And I'm not capable of presenting it well enough for this to be relevant. Now they......fuck I HATE they. I hate that it's the acceptable pronoun for anyone not bianary male or female. It just rubs me the wrong way. When people refer to me as they, I feel like they're referring to me and the host of mental illnesses I carry around and you don't have permission to address those troops thank you very much. They causes a genuine squick. But it's kinda the only widely acceptable option. I kinda like "it". I VIBE with it. It feels good. Unfortunately the people in my life have a certain reluctance about calling me it as they believe that happy vibe around a traditionally dehumanizing pronoun may be a trauma symptom. They might be right so I'm tabling "it" till I find a good therapist. Also...I cannot ask strangers to call me it. I don't have the confidence it takes to explain why and I frankly don't want to be faced with the criticism and questions I would face because I am unable to make my body be perceived as Nonbinary. I don't have the confidence or conviction to face that every day forever. Ditto neopronouns. I also haven't found one that I vibe with at all yet.

And queer labels get harder when you pull away from gender entirely. Like ... I am a Lesbian. I am solely attracted to women. But now I'm getting a lot of "You can't be a lesbian if you don't have a gender!!!" And like ...can I??? I like being a lesbian. It feels right. It conveys what I want it to convey. I like the exclusion of men entirely, after being taught to structure my life around men. I have a kinship with womanhood. It's where I was raised. It's how people see me. I just don't identify with it. It's not how I see myself. I guess that can kind of exclude me from the label? All of our terms are defined by being attracted to "your own gender" or "the opposite gender" or "both your own gender and other genders" and like ... I don't have a gender. And the opposite of nothing is....?? Fuck if I know? So what term am I allowed to use? I love queer for exactly this reason. But it just doesn't have the same clarity that lesbian does.

So I'm just kind of in a hole rn. Grappling with the fact that I really don't have a gender in a gendered world, and dealing with the fact that so much of our understanding and acceptance of gender is about presentation, a door closed to my body. I don't have the confidence or the spoons or the knowledge or the experience to fight this fight. The path of least resistance is sticking my head back into the sand and going with straightforward womanhood....but now it feels like I'm lying. I feel like an intruder in woman's spaces. And I can't go in men's spaces, they see me as....well...a woman. Lesser.

Someone out there who's better at the genders please help.

[highwaydiamonds]

Um. Excuse me. You had cancer??

Yeah... I mean I guess I really haven't discussed it much on tumblr. I have a little bit, but only in vague ways, or rarely made veiled references in tags.

SO, get a drink, get a snack, because this is a bit of a saga, and you already know I am longwinded at the best of times. I'm going to do like Vizzini said, and go back to the beginning. I hope you're ok I'm making this public Shells, it seems easier to? And I'll put this behind a cut because I really do wax on ( and on).

It's the end of August 2018 and i appear to have gotten some kind cold/respiratory infection. I'm at work the first day of it and it feels like a cold. No big deal. (Also this is all pre-COVID so no I didn't have COVID). The next day I feel really awful, so I call off work, and figure all I need to do is rest and I'll be ok. Turns out, NOPE. The next day I feel worse- now I can tell I have a bit of a fever, my appetite was basically, " eat one baby carrot and my appetite is exhausted." Finally, I get to the point that I am having trouble lying down - as in I am becoming short of breath when I try to lie flat (sorry if I am using the wrong word - lay/lie was always a grammar issue that eluded me.) So, I decide, ok, i will be sensible girl and go get medical attention. But I am stubborn and feel the ER is overreacting, so I go to urgent care. i park in the front row of urgent car parking, but by the time I reach the intake desk I have to put my head down because I am so winded and a bit lightheaded.

They take one look at me and tell me, point blank, "we're getting a squad for you to take you to the ER." I say, " what? no, I don't need that, this is not that big a deal." They counter, " you could barely walk in the door and you you are having significant trouble breathing. We don't have the ability to see you here." So, for the first time in my life I have to go via ambulance from urgent care to a free standing ER.

I get to the ER - where they decide, OK, lady, you're a mess. Let's get some chest x-rays and we're gonna slap some IV fluids and I can't even recall if they immediately put me on IV antibiotics or not. But after two hours there they informed me, " hey.... So, we think you need to go to the hospital-hospital not the freestanding ER." I tell them well you better hand me my laptop ( I'm that bitch who takes the laptop with her juuuuust in case I am stuck in the hospital. you never know.) Because i am not going to a hospital until I figure out if they're in my health plan. I do so and then for the second time in my life, all in one night because sometimes I am an over achiever i guess, I go via ambulance to the hospital.

They admitted me and over the next few/couple/ hours ( it was hard to tell) I progressively felt worse. I had trouble breathing if I didn't sit absolutely straight up, and at that point I hadn't gotten good sleep for around 60 hours or so. Me being me I started to get teary and panicky, because I was so tired and wasn't sure what to do. I called for the nurse and she came in and then within the next half hour your girl got taken down to the ICU. By the time we arrived down in the ICU I was really getting panicky. My mom died in the ICU ( different hospital but still) and I knew the fact they took me down there was no laughing matter. I started to think about, " ok is this what death is like? this isn't what i thought it was going to be - this is panicky and scary and not all white lights and peace."

The next thing I knew - it was two days later, and I woke up intubated. Did you know that you can be conscious and intubated? I did not. I'll speed things up a bit here. I spent a total of 8 days in the ICU - I had one hell of a case of pneumonia, and there were a couple of other diagnoses thrown in ( nope, not cancer. promise, we will get there.) . The nurses I had were AMAZING. I was intubated for about 6 of those 8 days. Then I got weaned off of it. Funniest moment on the ventilator: Physical therapist comes around and says, " Hey let's get you up and walking, you think you can?" I nodded and shrugged my shoulders to try and communicate, " sure, ok!" It went totally fine, but there were nursing students, residents, other doctors and who knows who else looking out of rooms and over desks at the two of us just y'know... *walking down the hall*. I gestured to the people because it was just flipping weird. I had an audience at the exact time NOBODY wants an audience and it confused the hell out of me. PT advised me, " there aren't too many times ventilated patients are ambulatory. You're a bit of a curiosity so people want to see."

Once I got out of the ICU and was put back on a regular floor, I got to meet with other doctors re those other diagnoses I mentioned ( chronic things I just have to manage) I also mentioned that it had been a really long time since I had been to a GYN and as had been noted in the ICU I spotted quite frequently ( I have never, ever in my life been regular period-wise and it just got weirder over time, but I just didn't really consider it. So I asked while they were setting me up with new practitioners ( my previous doctor had retired) too please set me top with a gynecologist.

So I'm out of the hospital by September 10th, 2018. The gyro appointment occurs i want to say by mid- to late September. I go in and meet her and she's lovely. While I'm up on the table she says, " hey let's do all the things and get a uterine biopsy!" I say, " excellent, do the things!" We agree it's likely going to be nothing but hey we're smart people and we will play it safe. Huzzah Gyno visit accomplished! (if I were a gamer I'd make some kind of ladybits achievement unlocked now, but I'm not a gamer.)

Two or so weeks go by - or however long it takes to get those test results back (some of these spans are lost in the mists of time). Dr Boyle calls me and apologizes that the test results that she was sure would be nothing... they are not nothing. Turns out, it's endometrial cancer.

At that point you could have knocked me over with a feather. Shells, I wanted my mom to be there so badly, I can't even express it. She would have understood how I felt - she'd been there with her breast cancer. But at the same time, I was glad she wasn't there? I remember how heartsick my mom was to tell Grandmommy when Mom got cancer. I didn't want my mom to have to hear that news, to worry about that. Dr Boyle advised me that she would be referring me to a good oncologist and i should hear from them in a week or two.

Thus began MRIS and PET scans and ultrasounds, and blood work etc. The oncologist diagnosed that he figured I might be stage three, but it depended on my lymph involvement. It brought back memories of when Mom was diagnosed and when she told me she was stage three. I asked my Dad later, "what does that mean?" He told me, " there are only four stages, so what do you think?" This time around I knew what it meant. So, we put me down for surgery November 9th, 2018. That's two days before my birthday - so I joked that I was getting my cancer out for my birthday - hooray! My best friend actually flew in from texas for my surgery ( my best friend is a SAINT, and I love her more than pearls and rubies.)

Best surgery story from this experience: For my total hysterectomy (uterus and ovaries go sayonara and then also two signal lymph nodes in the chain of nodes on either side of the pelvis to se if there is any lymph complication.) I had to be tilted back - so with my head down to move as many organs away from the uterus etc during the laparoscopic procedure. I knew this going in, However, when I woke up back in my hospital room I looked at Bestie and said, " I hurt in places I didn't expect to hurt. Oh wait. My shoulders hurt because they're not used to being weight bearing, but the procedure was laproscopic - so why the heck does my vagina hurt?" Bestie in one of her best moments ever says, " I know why." I replied, " wait, YOU know why MY vagina hurts?!" She said, " yep. So your surgery was supposed to take 3-3.5 hours ended up taking 5 hours instead. Your uterus was really big. The oncologist told us they need up having to cut it in half to pull it out of you." bestie admitted she joked with the oncologist that it was like I had just birthed a baby, he looked back at her (NOT laughing) and said, " yes, that's basically what she did." I laughed so much at that ( i mean i was also well medicated, but still) I told Bestie, " I had a Uterus! Let's call it George!" ( In retrospect I am disappointed in myself that I misgendered my own uterus, I should have called it Georgina.)

So, after healing from the surgery, by about January of 2019 I started two courses (each with a few rounds) of chemo. First came what the doctors and I called "low-pro" chemo - that we did along with radiation. Honestly, though i was making a heck of a lot more bathroom trips, you wouldn't have generally known I was sick. Most of my coworkers had no idea. I just was a bit more tired than usual. After the low pro rounds - then we moved to the bigger guns. Radiation was done but I moved to more significant chemo drugs, This wasn't because things were bad - this was the plan all along :) But I knew the "high-pro" chemo was going to make me lose my hair. THAT was a psychic struggle. I cried so much knowing that was going to happen. I got hats and caps and I even got a very nice wig. I mean, I planned as much as a girl can plan when she hears that news. I even preemptively cut my long hair. It was about half way down my back at that point. So I went in and asked the stylist please braid it and put it in between two hair ties - and then cut it - so i could keep my braid. I couldn't do locks of love anyway as it was colored, and I know it's selfish, but I wanted my hair. So, the hair went from half down my back to a face framing bob. then I just waited. And then in a few weeks it happened. I could put my hands through my hair and easily, painlessly pull it out. I am not a cute bald girl. That's when people KNOW you have something going on.

I was very lucky though, there ended up NOT being lymph involvement, and even the high pro chemo didn't make me nauseous or lose appetite. I did have HORRIBLE bone pain usually the first week after chemo ( i'd get it every three weeks). I learned a hell of a lot from that. I also was able to get some meds to help alleviate it a bit, and I took time from work when the pain was at its worst. But I have never experienced pain like that - where no matter what I did - no position changes helped. Even ice packs or heat pads didn't help or do much. It was just a waiting game, a painful waiting game. Oh also - I learned that IV benadryl is nothing like oral benadryl. IV benadryl is like walking right into a brick wall made of sleep. That stuff knocked me the hell out right quick - amazing.

Right before COVID started and the world shut down I got the flu because my immune system was in the toilet- and so I spent another week in the hospital and except for the bone pain that comes with chemo, you know what is worse than chemo injections? POTASSIUM injections. Among other things, my potassium levels were low and so I got those injections with other meds. Those suckers HURT. they BURN, and so i spent a week in the hospital only to eventually come out and find out the world was starting to shut down from COVID. Not my job at that point, but my oncologist told me, " GO HOME - YOU KNOW YOU ARE IMMUNO COMPROMISED - DON'T STAY AT WORK." So, I went home until about a month after I finished chemo.

Since finishing chemo it's been about scans, which have gone ok so far... I'm not willing to talk about the R word. I just think I'll have to be careful the rest of my life - My mom always said, "once you've gotten cancer, you always have cancer." So, maybe it's the anxiety talking, but it's kind of like waiting for the other cancer shoe to drop. In the mean time though, it's business as usual - try to find good stuff in the midst of the hot mess. Cancer has been a crisis but not a reason to lose my sense of humor. I've needed it more than ever :)

So, sorry for the SERIOUSLY LONG ASS answer, but sometimes it's just better to lay it bare. I'm not ashamed of this stuff. It's been a lot. It's been a journey... It still is... it's part of the rest of my journey, which i hope isn't over by a long shot yet. I don't believe things happen for reasons - the world is WAY too absurd for that in my opinion, BUT good gravy have i been able to learn so much from this whole three ring circus. I'm not grateful for cancer, but I am grateful for the lessons.

Thanks for checking in, Shells. You're a complete sweetheart.

[sapphic-sex-ed]

Hello, when i went to the gyno a while ago they inserted i guess the speculum, but it was really excruciating (like some of the worst pain i've felt honestly) the doctor commented like to herself 'why does it hurt so much' but didn't investigate further. It seems as if that is not supposed to be the case; what might the cause be? Do I have to return?

The speculum is a menacing instrument reminiscent of a medieval torture device, but it should not hurt that much. It may have hurt because the doctor just cranked it wide open too quickly. She might have used the Big One (adult size) when you needed the child size one. If you have vaginismus then it would absolutely hurt.

If you are not comfortable with that doctor you do not have to go back. A good gynecologist should be very aware of such issues and should at the very least have apologized.

-*Mod Star*

[anerdyfeminist]

Health related stuff to follow, don’t read if periods/surgery stuff is hard for you. But if this is something you’re cool reading...what I’m going to say in a LOT more words is that it’s really, really fucked up how hard it is to get help with menstruation/uterus related medical care that actually WORKS and/or to be listened to or respected about those issues.

I keep thinking about how so many things have happened with my health in the past year that I haven’t even had time to mentally or emotionally process it and by the time that I could get a moment to try..............boom, pandemic. I can’t remember how much I’ve written here about it generally...BUT trying to summarize quickly, after the bad car accident that fucked up my arm and I had surgery to fix it, the MRI scans they took at the ER that night opened a god damn Pandora’s box of shit in there I needed to take care of. I went from understanding myself as a person who has one mild chronic health issue to..........someone with four.

The biggest issue that was discovered was a wide spread and a really advanced case of endometriosis. My gyno surgically removed multiple endometriomas from both of my ovaries, the largest of which was bigger than a grapefruit. After I recovered from surgery, I started taking the only medication that specifically exists to inhibit more endometrial growth and manage the pain. (And it’s a pretty new drug at that.) My doctor didn’t really fully consider that one of its biggest side effects is depression and anxiety and as someone whose mental health has only rather recently gotten in a better place, after a couple of months on this new medication, I felt like how I felt before I started taking anti anxiety meds. That was suuuuuper untenable and I couldn’t stay on it.

So I had to go back to square one on how to keep my endo at bay. But this time in the story of “how the fuck to treat this raging case of endo” we’re now into late March and in the pandemic when I get to the point where my doctor explains that pretty much the only other option for me is to try an IUD. Hearing that pretty much made me almost breakdown crying in the appointment. (I held it together long enough to get home for that.)

I’ve always loved that IUDs exist for people who want them, bc I’m obvi all about access to the birth control anyone wants and I have lots of friends who LOVE theirs and extol their virtues. But literally ever since the moment I learned about then when I was like 17 I have been super averse to the concept for myself. I had long ago filed IUDs under “NOPE” in my brain. I’m just one of those folks who is grossed out by the idea of foreign material just existing inside my body. But after going through having already had a bunch of hardware in my arm and knowing how shitty it felt trying the endo meds, I said FUCK IT and took the plunge to get an IUD.

(Side note: seeking this type of medical care in the middle of the pandemic was super creepy dystopian and like being in a fucking episode of A Handmaid’s Tale because I was usually the only person there who was not VERY visibly pregnant because only totally “medically necessary” procedures were allowed, all the masks, plastic partitions, spacing of patients, etc., etc. Just weird.)

The IUD insertion itself was a nightmare if I’m really honest and the ultrasound they did at that point disappointedly revealed ANOTHER endometrioma already growing back that my doc wants to now keep an eye on........BUT the good news is that bad insertion experience aside, so far I’m feeling pretty good about using it. It’s been almost 3 months with it and the biggest revelation by far has been that the terrible, monster periods I had FOR YEARS just didn’t need to be what they were. In such a short span of time having much much much lighter ones, I’ve already begun to wonder what I was thinking just trying to suffer through that experience for so long.

If you’ve read my stuff here over the past few years, you’ll know that my period was the most raging heavy and intense.......I mean, I have a whole fucking tag for it. I had to go out of my way to find the largest capacity menstrual cup IN THE LITERAL WORLD and I would fill it a few times a day. You’d hear me say “oh hey, FYI your periods can get much heavier the older you get” which is true, mind you, but I had no idea that what I was experiencing was really really well beyond the bounds of what is “normal” and indicative of a bigger health issue. I told my doctor (who I don’t really fault, she has a lot of good qualities) about it and she thought it was just normal aging stuff. I didn’t advocate for myself as much as I should have and she didn’t listen to me well enough as she should have and the result is that for about 5 years I had untreated and undiagnosed endo that resulted in that grapefruit sized endometrioma and all her friends.

There were other signs too...my cramps had gotten incredibly horrific. Once the endometriomas were all removed, I realized they had been doing stuff like pressing on my bladder, making it hard to pee/empty it all the way and I couldn’t lay in bed in certain ways pain free. Getting this diagnosis was scary but it all started to make sense. And it’s still making sense the more I unravel my understanding of the past several years of my life. What I was going through was not normal, but it also wasn’t being taken seriously by anyone, perhaps most of all, by myself.

So yeah, I’m still processing this news and seeking to better understand that I didn’t have to feel like that for so long. I’ve got this tendency baked into me to assume and accept that “life is suffering” (thanks, dad) and that you must grin and bear it and just survive. I think that when it comes to issues that involve menstruation or uterine issues, that this message is even LOUDER because we are shamed into not speaking about these things publicly by society more widely. Their discussion is stigmatized, belittled, glossed over, filed under “ewwwww grossssss” etc.

But obviously, that’s not how it has to be................if I am hurting or uncomfortable I am WORTH the effort of trying to figure out why and see if I can fix it. And if that issue involves my period or uterus or ovaries SO BE IT. There’s nothing inherently gross or TMI about that. They are body parts and they get conditions. That’s life.

Anyway, I really enjoyed Padma Lakshmi’s interview by Terry Gross on Fresh Air this week and it influenced me wanting to write this. She talks about her own endo story and it really resonated with me. (She also had a terrible arm injury in her past. We’re basically twins LOLOLOL.) As I said, I’m still processing ALL of this. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it is that having endometriosis sucks but knowing you have it is waaaaaaaaay better than not knowing.

[artemisandlioness]

Maybe i just wasn’t meant to live.

I’ve been sick/had issues my entire life. How was I ever supposed to make something of myself?

I had chronic fatigue syndrome from 13-20 (roughly), I visited every type of doctor and health practitioner, my mum wasted so much money on alternative medicine and it never helped at all. I developed eating disorders and depression and started self-harming at 16. I couldn’t go to uni. I couldn’t study properly.

As the CFS was getting better, the endometriosis started up. Since I was 19 I’ve had pain almost every day of my life - I’m almost 32.

It took years to get a diagnosis. Every doctor I’ve seen has had something happen to them and they moved/stopped practicing. I had so many pelvic examinations and I couldn’t walk after them. I had doctor after doctor tell me that it was in my head, it was imagined, even if I did have endo it doesn’t actually cause pain, I’m a slut so it was probably a STD, the list went on. I’ve had every test imagineable. I’ve had two surgeries. I heal very slowly so it took nearly a month to recover from each surgery and after a month the pain would return again.

My appendix burst. I was put on medication that permanently altered my brain function. I kept making mistakes at work because of this, and lost my job. I was raped. I was diagnosed with PTSD and BPD (looking back that was a bad diagnoses I’m certain I don’t have BPD).

I can’t really travel because I’m in constant pain and can’t walk super far. I take so many meds that leaving the country would be a fucking nightmare. I’ve been overseas once and it was great but I was in agony the entire time and I don’t remember half the trip. We couldn’t do heaps of stuff because I just physically couldn’t.

The last gyno I saw told me that there was no point seeing me any more because they can’t do anything else for me. I can’t have much more surgery because of the amount of scar tissue in my abdomen, she said there’s no chance of me getting pregnant any more and any more surgery would probably have to be a hysterectomy. But that doesn’t even work with endo half the time, and I’m terrified of all the other shit that comes with that.

So for the last couple of years I’ve just been concentrating on pain management. I take enough painkillers to get me through work and a bit of exercise and grocery shopping. I’m still in pain all of the time but this makes life bearable. But now Medicare thinks there’s this huge opioid problem in Australia (there’s not) and after a couple of months each doctor gets a letter being like “you’re prescribing panadeine forte and we don’t like that” and so they can’t prescribe it any more.

So now I’m back here in this shitty situation. I’ve tried finding a new gyno. But the only ones I’ve been told are good are fertility specialists. They don’t care about me because I’m not trying to get pregnant.

I’m in pain 24/7. I can’t work full time. I can’t travel. I can’t study. I can’t get my own place because I don’t have a stable enough income. I haven’t been able to accomplish anything in my life and once I’m not on the painkillers I won’t be able to work at all. Nothing else works. I feel like I’ve tried everything.

Whats the point? Why am I clinging so hard to life when I’ve always had a shit time and never really enjoyed it?

[habibialkaysani]

okay so. a lot has been going on lately and I haven't had much time to be on here or time in general. now that the week is over tho things are starting to die down hopefully. and like I do with work emails I'm gonna just write a list, of all the things that have been going on, because I feel like my brain is about to explode otherwise.

lots of rambling, potentially triggering stuff under the cut:

1) pain. so much pain. I thought I'd moved past this endo thing, or at least that the pain was contained because of the meds the gyno gave me plus the progesterone that was definitely easing the pain for a bit during the month. but the ones my gyno gave me, they can only be taken during my period and mine isn't starting. so I've been in agony, like in so much pain, and the only relief has been a hot water bottle and codeine. and I don't want to take more days off when I've already taken sick days this year - which is not like me, at all. but potentially that might not be an issue for a while if I end up having to work from home. and in terms of addressing the root cause of the problem, that's unlikely, because the mri I had of my pelvis came back normal. no indications of endometriosis which I expected because this shit doesn't show on ultrasounds or mris. I do think there might be a chance it shows on a transvaginal ultrasound but they outright refuse to do that which really fucking pisses me off bc it's on the basis of me never being laid before which as I've mentioned is ridiculous.

2) speaking of. this motherfucking coronavirus is doing my head in. seriously i had to order hand sanitiser for the office and it still hasn't arrived. I did manage to get a few masks but god those were expensive. and just generally it's all anyone will talk about at work which is driving me nuts. and what makes it worse is that I'm going out of my mind thinking about speedy and if she gets it, because she's got a heart condition and her immune system isn't very strong even for regular flu. this shit will hit her hard and I'm terrified of that esp after hearing boris fucking johnson saying in his speech that people are going to lose loved ones. I don't know what I'll do if I lose her. actually I have an idea and it would not be good. I spoke to my brother who is a healthcare professional and he said that it's best to get in touch with the cardiology team that look after speedy to see if we can do anything preventative or get her tested.

3) in better news, my brother just announced to our family that he's getting married. already its causing arguments and his fiancee comes from a more well off family (the bar is low tho admittedly) so we're all gonna be scrambling to get our tiny house somewhat in shape for when my bro's future in laws visit in a couple weeks. but it's still good news I think because my bro is smitten and that's just nice to see. his fiancee makes him happy and that's something I'm really glad he found. they want a small wedding too so hopefully we'll have like 200 guests max, which would be sacrilege in any desi household lol.

4) I've been looking for a new job for a while now. things at work have been tough, ever since my old manager gave in her notice. I don't mind my current manager all that much, but she's in hr, and she's clearly never managed anyone before because she is nowhere near as good a support system as my old manager. I could go to my old manager and complain about something and she'd listen, and she actively made an effort to monitor my workload. this new one, she just doesn't put the same effort in and she also just doesn't understand the role I'm in either. she seems to think the job I do is easy and straightforward when it is neither, on the basis that she thinks admin is something anyone could do, and she does nothing to try and ease things when my workload gets heavy. plus my managers manager who is also in hr is just really not nice. she enjoys a power trip way too much. that and the fat cats that are our clients - well suffice it to say I think my time here is up. so I've been looking and I found a nonprofit that was hiring. I did my first interview with them and it went surprisingly well. and now I've got my second one next friday. I really hope that goes well too and that I get the job, just so I can see the look on my managers managers face when I give in my notice 😂 and this new job if I get it would be five fewer hours and I think that could do wonders for my wellbeing. and my sanity.

5) writing. I've done none of it. it's a problem. I don't know what to do to make my mojo come back because I write the best when I'm alone, and I'm never on my own nowadays unless I'm in bed in pain, in which case writing is the last thing I feel like doing. but I also really want to write. so badly. I feel like I'm emotionally more stable when I'm writing. I'm happier. and I just do not have that right now which is not fun.

6) reading - now this is something I have done. my dear friend reen recommended a series of books called reluctant royals, by alyssa cole, and omg. they are so good. I powered through three big novels and two novellas. like I devoured them. and I'm being reminded of how much I love books. good ones. they made me laugh a lot and I'm really glad my friend recommended them.

7) speaking of devouring. a few weeks ago I found on several occasions that people were offering their seats to me on public transport, presumably because they thought I was pregnant. it was this combined with my doctor admitting my bmi wasn't normal (tho only when I asked if this might be causing the pain) that made me realise that I needed to lose weight drastically, and to eat better and walk more. so I've been eating more veggies and salad. trying to put more greens on my plate. not have fast food as often. in all honesty I'm not sure how much of a difference its actually made, but I do know that I feel a little better having done so over the last few weeks. my brother also said I looked like I had lost weight. I've also noticed it a little in my tummy going in a bit too. but I also know that this is a rabbit hole I don't want to go down too far. I worry I might have already with the weighing which I've been doing far too often now that there's scales at work (for weighing big packages). I don't want this to spiral out of control. but I think I've done okay so far, minus the weighing thing - I've always eaten when I've felt hungry so it's not like I'm starving myself. and so far I've only lost about 3kg. which I feel is significant but also nowhere near enough when it comes to the nhs bmi calculator.

8) my little brother has been acting up for months now, and tbh it's starting to give me anxiety. my mother found weed in his room and he's just been rebelling in what I see as normal teenage ways like smoking and staying out late, but it's also affecting his school and I'm worried he won't leave with decent a levels bc he already failed once. and his school keeps emailing my dad about him supposedly being absent, and my dad's response to this for about two months now has been to post a screenshot of each email into the family group chat and demand where my bro has been. it doesn't help. and I don't need to be notified every time he skips school or whatever like that is not my fucking problem to have to see when I'm at work and have enough stresses as it is. my dad is an idiot and honestly some days I would dearly love to punch the man in the face.

9) I start my group therapy in a couple weeks. it’s for generalised anxiety and I am really, really hoping it will help me because the other group therapy I’ve done previously, like a couple months back, has proven to be really helpful. here’s hoping.

10) if anyone is still reading this far - I realise this sounds a lot like I'm feeling sorry for myself. maybe I am to some degree. but my life is just a lot right now and I'm genuinely a bit shocked I'm still in one piece and that I haven't had a nervous breakdown yet. everything is a lot and I feel like I'm going through a lot of change. that's hard. but I'm trying my best to get through this and I hope somehow I can. I actually left tumblr for a bit because for various reasons I didn’t feel as safe talking about my problems on here, through no fault but my own really. I’m hoping I’ve moved past that now.

[icequeen-shiva]

Tickling community asks! 1, 3, 4, 6, 10, 15, 17, 20, 23, 25

1. What’s that one spot that causes you to instantly erupt into wild, uncontrollable, hysterical laughter every single time it’s touched?part of me really did not want to answer this honestly but you know what, fuck it, sO fAr it’s been (as long as it’s not too rough a touch) my ass. like i could not handle the boy tickling there for more than a few seconds before i was like NOPE GET AWAY

3. Pedicures: no problem, ticklish but tolerable, or a flailing and laugh-filled tickle torture session? see… i’m not really sure? because i’ve only ever had one, honestly, and she didn’t get very.. intense? she barely used the file. what tickled most was when she was putting on/massaging in a sugar scrub, and i didn’t have to fight off giggles or anything but i was very very aware of the sensation. so i guess i’m going with ticklish but tolerable! i also want to note, though, that my feet have almost never been tickled in my life before, and when i did meet the boy, there was almost no reaction at all until he used a hairbrush, BUT by the end of my time there, my feet were definitely ticklish. so maybe next time i get a pedicure, things will be different. we’ll have to see~

4. What’s the longest you’ve ever been tickled in a situation that was spontaneous, unplanned, not a “session” etc? What happened?uuuuhhhhhhhh i have no idea. a few minutes, i guess, in total but not all in one go? i was helping my best friend and her family move, and we were alone in the empty house while the adults drove things over to the new house and we were just chilling on the floor and somehow a tickle fight broke out. a very very one sided tickle fight. i managed to find the one rogue nail in the floor and ripped my jeans.

6. Tummy exam at the doctor’s: no problem, a little hard to take, extremely hard to take not to mention embarrassing, or legit straight-up tickle torture to the max?in between a little hard to take and extremely hard. like.. medium light hard, but it’s embarrassing definitely. a tummy exam isn’t hard, the extremely hard to take and embarrassing one is at the gyno when she’s doing a boob and lymph node/armpit exam HOO BOY

10. Family tickling: creepy, fun, or “the taboo weirdness of it is intriguingly both creepy and fun”?i mean, i don’t think it’s creepy necessarily? because, to most, tickling is harmless but familiar interaction. it’s a way to show affection even, for some people, so i don’t have any issue with family tickling, on average. i’m sure there are instances out there that i might side-eye but when you just say “family tickling” to me then what i think of is harmless and just familial, platonic intimacy. i mean, i even have the kink and i wouldn’t be creeped out if my mom tickled me. now would i be creeped out if she restrained me or teased me like, y’know, i’d want a ler to tease? hell yeah i would be. but just the tickling, nah.

15. When was the last time you said, “I’m ticklish?”i’m sure i probably had to admit it back at my new year’s visit to the boy. so anywhere from december 30th to early january 1st. that’s the last time i remember probably saying it, at least.

17. Witnessing tickling: boring, fun because I imagine myself in that person’s (ler/lee) position, or hot af?it greatly depends on the situation. a parent tickling their child, i don’t imagine anything like that. but like… ok i will admit that i’ve witnessed many, many times, one of my best friend’s boyfriends is really good about being willing to rub her feet and he plays with her toes and it makes me wonder and it’s very mildly flustering because i want that kind of attention and it’s always like, a fear that oh no what if he starts tickling her fucking kill me. and there’s been a time this same best friend wanted her spot on the couch back, our other friend refused to move, and this was a sectional couch so pieces could move and there was a gap between the piece her legs were stretched out on and the part she was sitting on, so my first friend sat on her legs and went to fucking town tickling the back of her knees. and i was– holy shit man i was trying so hard not to be transfixed. it went on for A LONG TIME and the tickler friend was teasy and dear god it was awful and i was both impressed by her endurance and in hell SO I GUESS.. UH…. I GUESS DEPENDING ON THE SITUATION AND THE EOPLE, THE LAST TWO IN DIFFERENT PARTS?? fml

20. Your feet right out of shoes: gross don’t talk to me about that, no difference, or 1000 times more ticklish?i don’t know. i will say that i think they’re more sensitive after work, but that’s more because i work 8.5 hour shifts and i’m standing except for my 30 minute lunch, so i mean… circulation and standing and such. i attribute it more to physical things than i do my shoes and socks being on. that’s just something i’ve noticed when i’m finally home and getting ready for bed and doing my lotion routine.

23. Tell a true story about a time you would have given anything to make the tickling stop.bold of you to assume i’ve been lucky enough to have one of these stories, because i don’t. the closest thing i have is this one time, back in high school, at least two (maybe three, but i only remember two for sure) friends would not stop tag team poking me during class and i desperately did not want to make noise and have to explain it.

25. Are you “known” for your ticklishness among your friends and family?family, probably not. friends…. yyyyyes but they don’t seem to take advantage of this and only ever sometimes poke at my sides

[spooniewitch7-blog]

What it’s Like to Get Cervical Cancer, Pt 1

Hello everyone. I wanted to write down my whole story for anyone curious to read it. I think its important to get out the gritty, unabridged version so that more people can be aware of how serious even stage 1 cancer can be. I also want newly diagnosed people to have a little more information on what they may experience that isn’t as vague and sterile as a possible symptom list on a medical website.

I also think most people don’t know how quickly cervical cancer can pop up, it’s *usually* a slow moving cancer that can be caught early, but not always. If you have an autoimmune disorder or have been pregnant you’re at a higher risk. Stay on time for your paps!!

Warning: This story is pretty brutal. It involves major surgery, infertility, heaps of physical pain, miscarriage, rape trauma and vagina damage. I sugar coat nothing.

I have a lot of guilt around my diagnosis, because I’ve never been the best about getting my paps on time. I also have other serious health issues, most of which seemed more important to see the doctor for, along with fluctuating between crappy health insurance and none at all. I also HATE pap smears because I’m a multiple rape survivor and was once raped with fingers. That being said, I still should have stayed up on my checks.

I was 38 when I was diagnosed. My husband and I had been trying to get pregnant again after I’d miscarried at 3 months pregnant. I had dreamed of having a baby for years and was frankly obsessed with birth, I’m a trained doula and wanted to become a childbirth educator and lactation counselor after I had my own baby. My baby dreams had been delayed by poor taste in men and an ex-husband who lied about wanting kids. So my current husband and I were feeling the fertility crunch as I crept closer to 40.

I was only about a year and a half late for my regular pap. I should have been on time for my check-up because I’d had precancerous cells removed with a LEEP back in 2011. I was all clear after that, so I got lulled into a false sense of security. I didn’t do my homework and didn’t realize how serious the risk still was.

So about 2 weeks before my last gyno appointment I bled during sex. The bleeding stopped right after, but then the next time we had sex it bled again. This terrified me because that is one warning sign of cancer I know well. And that was my only symptom. I had hip and lower back pain, but I’d had that for a long time and I generally have tendon and joint problems.

When I went in for my appointment with my new gyno, we chatted lightly about how I was trying to get pregnant, she recommended that my husband cut down on pot use because that “makes sperm stupid.” Then she slipped the speculum in and immediately said some of the most terrifying words I’ve ever heard: “That’s why you’ve been bleeding, there’s a tumor on your cervix.” Then followed a tense blur of her scrambling with her assistant and shoving the extra large spectulum up my vagina, taking a biopsy so painful the nerve pain shot down my leg and her saying the tumor was so big she was having trouble finding the edges of my cervix. Then she gave me a pamphlet on cervical cancer and said she knew a really great oncologyist to refer me to.

I went home in major shock. Googling clued me in to my future reality. Even early stage small tumors meant a hysterectomy was likely. But a tumor that covered my cervix? Yeah, it was bye bye uterus and no more baby. The night I got my biopsy results I drank a whole bottle of wine and tearfully sang along to a Madonna video marathon on YouTube.

Then followed some of the most stressful weeks of my life. It takes forever to go to all your new doctor appointments and get the scans so that they can tell you how large the tumor is, if the cancer has spread and exactly how they want to treat you. Meanwhile you become a basket case.

I had an MRI and PET scan. The PET scan is used to see if you have cancer spread anywhere else in your body. My scan showed a possible spot on my colon, so I had to go in for a colonoscopy. I actually had TWO colonoscopies two days in a row. The joy. For the first one, they didn’t give me the medication that flushes your insides because my insurance didn’t cover it. So they just told me to stop eating at 8pm and use two enemas. That didn’t even clean me out enough. So the next day I had to go back to the hospital, have multiple nurses stab at my veins to get an IV in again (Raynaud’s makes veins a pain in the ass) go under anesthesia again, and be wheeled into a brightly lit room where a strange man put a scope up my bum and my oncologyst did a more thorough exam of my cervix that would have been too painful if I’d been awake.

Luckily, there was no cancer in my colon. Thank the gods. My cervical tumor was also just barely small enough to remove with a hysterectomy. If it had been too large or invaded any tissue in my vagina or elsewhere, my only option would have been heavy radiation and chemo to hopefully shrink it away. I desperately wanted to have surgery, with all of my other autoimmune issues I knew radiation could be more damaging. (There is actually some research on it out there for those who are curious, some autoimmune disorders up your chances of severe late stage complications from radiation.)

My oncologist agreed to do the hysterectomy, but warned me that with a 4cm tumor, there was a decent chance that I’d need some radiation after surgery. I was willing to take the chance.

So on September 11th, 2018 I arrived at the hospital for my radical hysterectomy. I felt like I’d betrayed my uterus and hell, my vagina too (when they remove your cervix they take part of your vag with it.) I was having my precious insides ripped out and whisked away to a lab where they would test it for a week and then toss it in a medical waste bin, my baby dreams literally left to rot.

My mom and husband were with me and sat in the tiny prep room where I waited in my gown and mesh hat, hooked up to IVs. I was keeping it together pretty well that day, until they came to wheel me away and my mom and husband were visibly both having melt downs. My hubby kissed me on the forehead about 10 times and mom kept saying “I love you so much” over and over again. Realizing that they were worried I might die made me extra terrified and I struggled to keep the tears in while they wheeled me down the hall. In the sterile operation room the nurses made me scoot off the bed and onto this hard table with a big scoop out where my butt hung. It felt like a slaughtering block. My surgeon’s assistant noticed my terror and locked eyes with me before I went under. She said in the kindest, most soothing tone “Don’t worry, we will take very good care of you.” And it felt like a warm blanket swathed me in calm.

To be continued...

[hazel2468]

There are so few positive stories about fat people and their doctors or accessing medical care, and I know that it can really seem overwhelming, or that you will NEVER find a doctor who will be kind to you and not blame all your problems in your weight. So, I am here to tell a positive story.

The doctor in question is not my primary care doctor (she is my gyno, actually) but right now she is doing primary care stuff for me. And she. Is. EXCELLENT. Something I think most fat people will relate to- I had a small issue (a sore, as it happens), and I was so worried that it would be dismissed as “just because you’re fat”. For reference, the last time I was told that and I was sent away, I ended up with a fucking staph infection that left a visible divot in my thigh, as well as a bunch of scar tissue, and I had to be on medication for weeks. But I went in. And she examined it, addressed my concerns, prescribed me with a topical cream, and told me to come back straight away if it was not better within the next two weeks. 

Not a single word about my weight. None of the usual assumption that every health problem I present with is because I am fat. 

Recently, I went in for a routine check and for some pretty odd stomach issues. I thought “okay she was nice last time... But can she really keep being so good?” Yes, she can. She examined me, did my yearly blood panel. She discovered that my blood pressure was elevated- it wasn’t last time. But as I braced myself for the usual “this is why fat people need to lose weight” she hit me with “and remind me exactly what pill you are taking?” Turns out, a side effect of taking one of my medications long-term (which I am) is developing high blood pressure. 

Why do I bring this up? Why do I talk about this? I’m sure some of you are going “well, you know, being fat DOES cause high blood pressure” and yes, sometimes fat people do have high blood pressure. But I bring this up because any other doctor that I have seen would have dismissed it as “you’re fat and eating poorly (which I am not, I do mind what I eat and track that) and you’re lazy” and the usual bullshit. And I would have walked out of there with NO FUCKING IDEA that my medication is likely what is causing this. I would have left that office, had no plan to alter my meds, would have kept taking those meds with NO supervision, and probably gotten very sick. Instead, my doctor and I developed a plan to monitor my BP closely, to rule out other possible factors and, because she is pretty sure it’s my pill, to switch me to another form of the same medication in a couple of months. 

So why do I bring this up? I bring this up for every fat girl who, like me, assumed that no medical professional would ever take her seriously. I bring this up for every single person who has had their legitimate medical concerns dismissed and pushed aside and who has perhaps even experienced long-term negative effects from said dismissal like I did. I bring this up to let every fat teenager know that you DO deserve quality healthcare, that you DO deserve to be heard. And that it IS possible and that there ARE people out there who will help you, who will care for you. That there are doctors who are not so wrapped up in their own heads that they ignore you and stick to what they think. There ARE doctors who will listen and treat you as you deserve to be treated. 

And we see so much negative shit. We do. I do. Every damn day. I have lived being a fat girl walking into a doctor’s office and being told that my issues are 100% due to my daring to be chubby- even when that issue was a fucking staph infection on my knee. Even when that issue was the hypothyroidism that CAUSED so much of my weight gain when I was younger. And I want every teen like me to know that you are allowed to demand respect. You are allowed to demand that you get the healthcare you need. 

And people who tell you that you do not deserve that, or who tell you that you cannot possibly know or care about your health because you are fat? They aren’t worth your time. Because there are people out there who care, and doctors who will do their jobs.  

[loadingluke]

Hysto update

Hey all, long time no chat. Warning now, this is going to be a long one.

Firstly, I apologise for not being great at updating- I think that just over time I’ve stopped using tumblr to the same level as I do other social media, When I was 14-17 I was on here all the time, but now not so much. I will still use this as a means to document my medical transition, but I often forget about it so apologies if I don’t keep everyone as updated as I used to. Once phallo happens, I’ll be documenting in writing everything that happens, and I’ll definitely share that on here as well as my private facebook group (If you are 18+ and have facebook, feel free to add this account and shoot me a message to be added: https://www.facebook.com/luke.yeet.961). I’m much more active there compared to tumblr because tumblr mobile sucks lol. I’ll also be making more videos after surgery, as you’ll see below I was really screwed around and. being the middle of semester I was struggling to keep my uni work under control, whilst arranging this all and so I did not have time to film or edit any videos. 

Anyway, now that that housekeeping is out the way, let’s have a chat about what’s happened recently. For those of you who did not know, my hysto was confirmed for September 4th, and was going to be done for free in a public hospital on Medicare (Australian public health insurance). I had my pre-op appointment on the 16/8/2018, and when I got there I found out it had been canceled without me knowing or being told. The receptionist was lovely and found out what happened and told me someone was going to see me and that they wouldn’t be long. 2 and a half hours later, I was finally seen and was told that my surgery may need to be delayed due to ‘issues with ethics approval’. 

I don’t really know what these issues were, or if my case has been submitted at all or if I was just forgotten or something. I don’t know why it was ‘potentially delayed’, but I have seen 3 specialists, and I’ve seen the surgeons now 4 times. I really didn’t know what more I could have provided, or if there is anything more I could even do, but I was more annoyed that I was not being told what I need to do to make it better.

I was really upset and stressed about it all- I get that it’s a public hospital and that I’m lucky the service is available. I’m happy to wait hours, I’m happy to work around the date I’m given with no issues. It’s just really frustrating when I’ve been seeing surgeons there at the hospital since 2016, and actively arranging this since November last year SPECIFICALLY so that it wouldn’t end up being rushed like this. The only other option I was given on the public system besides my current September date was in October, 2 weeks before my final exams. I couldn’t do any later as I’m having phalloplasty in February and I won’t be recovered enough in time for that if I have my hysto any later.

I was really frustrated by the lack of communication and how I had no answers. I needed to get time off work, and special consideration from uni and I knew I had to work really hard to arrange it around what is already a really difficult time for me study wise because I knew that I was not able to be picky with dates and times. I was so relieved once I got my date confirmed by the hospital, and I had it all arranged. A week on from my pre-op appointment, I still had no idea if I was having surgery or not as I had no one contact me since my appointment.

At that point, I called the hospital and was given a little more of an explanation. Apparently, my surgery was canceled due to ethics having an issue with my age (I am 22 for context). They had a meeting that day regarding the situation an I can expect a call later. I was told that September is about 95% chance canceled, they MAY be able to swing something if I'm really lucky but it's not looking good. Apparently, this is a hospital-wide issue and I'm not the only case dealing with something like this. I was really upset. I specifically got the ball rolling months in advance to make sure all the ethics was fine, and then in April was told it was all good, so I still have no idea why this happened. 

I then contacted my team at my gender clinic. They tried to work with the surgeons to help me, as well as steps to issue a formal complaint. Afterwards I felt a lot more positive, and I'm so grateful that they are all so supportive and helpful. It meant a lot that they are taking time out of their busy days to assist me. 

Next, I got a call from the surgeon and she didn’t have any luck, and that they won't grant approval by my September surgery date. She arranged for my surgery to be done privately- I just need to check with Bupa when they are open tomorrow that they are happy to approve it (I'm currently in my 12 month waiting period). 

I really hope that I've made it clear that I'm not frustrated at the team at the hospital (bar the communication), more the system. Whoever these ethics people are or what their issues are, they can't just go back on their decision at the 11th hour...THAT'S not ethical. I hope that what follows this is a shift in attitude because trust me, I'm making sure this isn't just swept under the rug. I will say though, I've been jumping through hoops for years to prove that I know what I am doing, and fighting tooth and nail for body autonomy and I have been doing so as long as I've been transitioning (over 6 years now). Honestly, today is my first time actually having my health care practitioners advocating on my behalf and it feels amazing having so much support. The surgeon has done everything she can, and I am so very grateful for her and the work she does for the trans community, as well as everyone at my gender clinic for being so helpful and willing to work with me to fix this awful situation.

After 3 calls to Bupa I was finally sure I’m covered for my surgery. Two people had no idea what was going on, and one person was excellent. He was furious that they weren’t just accepting that my case was ‘psychiatric’ and not a ‘pre exisiting condition’ (2 month vs 12 month waiting period, I’m currently at 8 months). He he said he’d be able to sort it out but the turn around might mean it won’t be sorted by my surgery date. Stressful times. He called back later and let me know that at the moment updating from my current standard hospital care to top level care would remove my waiting times as they’ve had to change the plans around to meet the industry standard. This was not really relevant for me, but it was a neat loophole that meant I didn’t have to worry about running around and getting emergency psych evaluations (again!) because I’m just covered either way. 

My surgeon, Dr. Kent Kuswanto, squeezed me in for a Wednesday morning pre-op appointment last week.  It was a pretty quick chat as he had already obtained all my info from the public hospital, and I'd already had 4 other appointments with gynos/specialists so I was already familiar with the procedure and what was going to be happening. He just went through basic medical stuff, like asking about smoking, medical history etc. It was pretty straightforward. Since I'm covered with Bupa, I'll be having surgery privately on Monday. I've been booked in for 11:30, fasting from 7am the day of surgery, and I'm having a total laparoscopic hysterectomy (with a robot, how exciting!).

Kent is not charging me an out of pocket cost (as I was already on the public system list and my situation was unique, but I don't know if that is the norm), but I will be charged about 200-300 by the anaesthetist, plus potentially some pathology (which will either not amount to much, or will be covered by Bupa anyway). I'll need to pay the hospital my 250 premium for Bupa on admission to the hospital, but besides that, I should be covered for everything else. 

Since stage one phallo is only 5 months away, I'm glad I'm getting this done now. If I knew at the time that this is what would have happened, I definitely would have gone privately in the first place to avoid being messed around, and I would have done it sooner, but c'est la vie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Kent and his secretary are lovely, an I felt super well looked after. I'll make another post sometime tonight about how I'm preparing etc, but fingers crossed that's all for now until then!

[greennorsewitch]

Recently discovered I have chronic thrush, how do I stop it affecting my (20f) relationship with my bf(21m)

so I have had issues for as long as I can remember, but it got worse when I was 18 and started having sex and taking the pill, but honestly apart from the times I had a really bad flare up, I thought the pain in sex, the almost constant discomfort, was all normal- maybe I just had slightly sensitve skin?

The past year I eventually got treated for thrush a few times after it got so bad I went to the doctor, but at the start they just thought it was one-off cases of thrush, I had a weeks course of treatment, it got slightly better, then worse again. Then they looked away from the thrush and investigated other things (all the while I was still testing positive for thrush, and had to get my own over the counter treatment a couple times-not on drs advice) and I have been on a few different courses of antibiotics- which of course didnt help, if anything it got worse.

Then finally, a couple weeks ago I got an appointment with a different gyno, who was incredibly helpful and realised it was chronic thrush, and has put me on a 3 month long treatment course. It was such a relief to finally figure out what it was, and that there could be some end in sight (the treatment isn't guarenteed to cure it).

During all this, over summer, my boyfriend and I got together, and he has been incredibly supportive and understanding of my issues, however he has a lot of his own insecurities, and sometimes he cant help but get upset/insecure over the fact we don't have sex that much. Just this morning he told me it was okay if I wasn't sexually attracted to him anymore. This is so frustrating, because I am, and I love him so much, but I don't know how to show him this when I can't have sex with him without it hurting, and I can't seem to be able to convince him otherwise. Also, just to be clear, he never ever pressures me into sex, and if we are having sex and he notices it hurting, or I tell him, we stop immediatly. I feel very safe with him, he is not with me just for sex & the rest of our relationship is good.

It doesn't help at all that my sex drive has gone progressivlely down in the past couple years, imo due to the pill, pain during sex (due to less supportive partners and me trying to just grit my teeth and have sex, since I thought it was normal), and a lot of stress and sadness in recent months due to my grandad dying, my aunt getting in a serious accident, and issues with uni work. Also, being diagnosed has made me realise that I don't want to have sex with pain, even the minor pain. I kind of just want to let my body heal.

It also doesn't help that when we first got together, we had more sex, since I had just had a thrush treatment, and it seems that the pain gets less during sex if I haven't had sex in a while (like a few months).

I don't know what to do, I just want him not to worry so much, and my thrush issues to be over. I hate that something about myself I cant control has affected us both so much.

​

Also, just for background info and awareness, here are some links on chronic thrush (the first link has some nsfw pictures) :

https://medicinetoday.com.au/system/files/pdf/medicine_today/article/MT2014-02-033-FISCHER.pdf

https://www.aafp.org/afp/2001/0215/p697.html

Around 75% of women get thrush at one point in their life, and 5% of these develop chronic thrush, which often goes undiagnosed for a long time, and can cause so much frustration and pain.

I was examined by 3 different gynos& nurses, and consulted by at least 4 pharmacists and doctors before having an appointment with the doctor who was the first to even bring up chronic thrush. She told me I had all the signs of it, including scarring caused by skin tears and inflammation.

(made with a throwaway account)

​

edit: if any mods read this, i think it would maybe be good to add something about thrush& the chronic version to the faq? forgive me if I just missed it, but I didn't see a mention of it there, and even though it is not an sti, it is a thing that will affect probably most peoples sex life at one point or another (since if 75% of women get it at least once, not only are they being affected, so are their partners)

submitted by /u/throwaway2288553377 [link] [comments] from Sex https://ift.tt/3yBrYrF