I am counting down the days until Wednesday. Well, actually, I am counting down the hours and minutes and seconds until Wednesday. At 8am on the morning on the 26th, I will be sitting in a sterile doctor's office chatting with Bad-Ass Barbie about the 4.5" ball of weirdness that is inside of my uterus and my floppy ovary.
I am sitting on my couch, the Friday night before, frustrated with the lack of stories from women my age. I am facing a pool of unknowns and can not find resources or outlets or solace from women in my shoes. So, with Project Runway as my soundtrack, this blog is transforming into a space for me to document my journey with Polycycstic Ovarian Syndrome.
In late July, I went to my annual appointment with my gynecologist. It had actually been two years...mainly because I was scared. Polycycstic Ovarian Syndrome runs in my family and my mother, noticing some symptoms in me, encouraged me to chat with my doctor about PCOS as a possible answer to my issues. Since I was 16, my period has been VERY irregular, cramps that knocked me out; i put on weight like it was my job and no matter what i tried i could not lose any weight; horrible acne; and my personal "favorite" excess hair, hirsutism. This symptom is, by far, the most difficult to deal with. I am constantly aware of my face and the male-pattern growth on my body; i do not, by any stretch of the imagination, feel feminine or pretty or desirable with black hairs sprouting where ever they want. When i start to think about this symptom and/or talk about it with friends, family, and medical professionals, i instantly well up and my heart gets lodged in my throat. I want, more than anything, to feel confident when i wake up in the morning....no make up...just my naked face.
When i went my doctor 2 years ago I chatted with her about PCOS and the possibility of a diagnosis for me. This doctor just told me i didn't have it. I was so ill-prepared to stand up for myself that i didn't push her to test my hormone levels or do ultrasounds. I took her non-diagnosis and left the office. Over the next two years, my periods were still rare but painful; the hair on my face was getting heavier and harder to deal with; and i started having more and more sharp, shooting, pains in my abdomen.
This spring i did more and more research on PCOS and made an appointment with a new doctor, a woman brand-new to Oregon with a Doctorate of Osteopathic Medicine. I decided that i was going to go into this appointment and not walk out without a plan and a diagnosis. I was positive that I have been living with PCOS for a few years and I had gotten to the point that not knowing was more damaging, mostly to my soul, than knowing and not doing anything about it. Without a confirmed diagnosis, i couldn't do anything to help myself.
I walked into my appointment on July 30 prepared to fight. I was the first appointment for the day so there was no waiting or stalling. My doctor walked in, dressed in head-to-toe bubblegum pink with blonde hair and one of the more glorious tans i had seen for a while. Immediately i thought, "oh fuck....Barbie's my gyno." We started talking about PCOS, my family's history, and my symptoms. Without hesitation, the doc looked at me and said, "You have it. There is no doubt in my mind. I can tell just by looking at you." At that point, i started crying....it was such a relief to be validated. I was such a relief to know that i would walk out with a plan. It was such a relief to know that it would get better....or at least more manageable.
As we chatted about PCOS, the doc said that (worst-case scenario) should she feel anything suspect, I would be going in for an ultrasound and we would do a full blood work-up. if i have any cysts or growths or masses between 4 and 5 inches, we would "get aggressive." I wasn't totally sure what that meant or how that simple sentence could change the route of the rest of my 2009. During the exam, the doc looked up at me and said, with a puzzled look, "hunh...you have a very large uterus." Of course, my nervous humor took over. "Thanks," i said, as i flipped my hair.
The doc finished the exam, took her gloves off, and said, "well, Sarah....this is worst-case scenario. I don't like what i feel so we are going to get aggressive." I was set up with prescriptions as an attempt to even out my hormones, appointments were made for ultrasounds and a follow-up. I did what i planned to do.....I was walking out with a plan.
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