Trooping Through My Humanity

So I've mentioned it here before, once or twice, because I really don't obsess about it, that I have PCOS. PCOS = Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and it's really a bitch of a "syndrome." It wreaks havoc with your internal girl organs, which in turn jacks up other stuff along with it. For example: It can knock your insulin out of whack, which in turn can knock your hormones out of whack, along with other members of the endocrine system, which in turn can also create problems with your blood pressure, which in turn can knock your insulin out of whack and so on and so forth.

The side effects are everything that a woman fears and avoids in regular life, so when you have them hoisted on you beyond your control and revved up a little bit just for good measure...yeah...not so awesome.

Here, I will indulge you with a few of the side effects just for your viewing pleasure (mind you, you don't usually have all of them, but you can get a right nice cocktail of them going just the same): weight gain (which is not like normal weight gain, but can border on incredibly impossible to get rid of no matter how many few calories you eat or how many marathons you run), infertility, cycles from hell (no not bicycles...you know...ole Aunt Florine what who comes to visit), hair growth in terrible and humiliating places IE: one's face, neck and breasts, acne and thinning hair just to name a few. So imagine one or some combination of these and you've got life with PCOS.

http://women.webmd.com/tc/polycystic-ovary-syndrome-pcos-symptoms

It's really a disease that terrorizes a woman. You never know how things are going to go, and you have daily maintenance and grooming issues that other people with a generally normal life have no concept of. It attacks everything that is identifiable as being feminine: skin, hair, weight and the ability to conceive, retain and give birth. Of course you also have to deal with the insensitivity and rudeness of the common population who think that somehow it is their business to inform you that you are flawed by making snarky comments, looking you up and down, or even hollering out at you from a passing car "You're fat!!" "Oh really genius? Did you notice that all on your own or did you have help with that one?? Nice. I thank you for pointing out the obvious as I am never around any mirrors or ever see my reflection." On top of that, sometimes your body likes to throw little surprise curve balls your way, things like bleeding that starts out of the blue and lasts forever...stuff like that that requires that your purse always be fully stocked with any number of provisional supplies from the Feminine Aisle of your local Wal*Mart.

But of course, this does have one or two perks as follows:

(1) If there is ever a fellow woman in need. You have got that sisters back.
Friend, blushing: Tracy, do you have any...you know...in your purse?
Tracy, laughing: Oh you know it girl. One second...here...there is a nice selection...would you like one of each?
Friend: What? Are you kidding?
Tracy: Welcome to my life.

(2) If you are travelling in foreign countries, particularly ones that do not have modern amenities...oh say...the Philippines?

Tracy travelling: A number of years ago I did quite a bit of travel. I had been in the Philippines for about a week and a half, when some rogue coconut water at a party laid siege to my intestines. The show must go on, and so it did, BUT, I suffered significantly. While continuing on in my travels and excursions I needed to find a restroom, not realizing what I was walking into.

Let me set the scene: I'm walking through a semi black market mall. It is humid and people are chasing after me saying "Ma'am! Ma'am! I have DVD, CD. Come! Come! You come with me, back here." and me saying "No thank you." while walking on and thinking "Yeah, come with you back here, right!" I make my way to an escalator, which apparently doesn't work...unless as stationary stairs, but it is the way I must journey to find the restroom, which to be honest with you if I could have gotten a taxi and made it back to my hotel, that's what I would have done, but there was not that kind of time. So I trooped on.

Through windings and weavings I found the public restroom which appeared to be pretty clean. I thought "Ok. Good." and walked on. I pushed one door open, no toilet seat, another door, no toilet seat and so on and so forth. O.k. so, no toilet seats, not a big deal, so I pick one and go in. I pop a squat and take care of my business, then, reaching for the toilet paper I realize a fatal oversight...I didn't check for TP.

I was in a desperate situation, so I was looking to get in the stall as opposed to thinking too much farther ahead than that...hence the predicament.

But no worries, I knew I had to have something in my my big straw purse (at least there had better be something...I just couldn't see myself hollering to my hosts from a locked public stall "Heyyyyyyyyy!!! I NEED TOILET PAPER!!! OY!!! Is anyone there???"), and so I scrounged and scavenged. A couple of mildly damp-from-my-sweaty-forehead-and-neck Kleenex, did I mention it was humid?...and some tampons and a couple of pads. Well...here's to sweat-dampened Kleenex and pads, the tampons weren't going to do me any good, they've got no capacity for external cleaning coverage. Did you know that, as long as you don't get the sticky side of the pad on you of course, pads ain't half bad as a TP substitute? They don't tear very well, but it all works out just the same.

Anyway, I solved the problem, and without being humiliated in front of the locals, I gracefully walked on out and continued on with my day. Might I mention that before doing so, I peeked in all of the other stalls and there was no toilet paper to be had in any of them, nor were there any paper towels. When I mentioned this to my hosts in passing (not in the above mentioned story...which is funny now but wasn't then...) they said oh of course, no, they do not stock public restrooms with any paper products. I thought "Huh...Good to know...would have been nice to know prior to the need though." So I've tried to pass on the detail to my other female travellers as the opportunity has arisen.

But onward...

In addition to all of this, you have a whole plethora of doctors who really don't know what they hell is wrong with you, so there's that whole conversation. They don't get it.

Here is a for example:

After 5 years...

Patient (i.e.: Me): I've been researching and reading trying to figure out what is wrong with me. I've come across a couple of articles that talk about PCOS or Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. I printed them out in case you wanted to take a look at them.
Doctor: Blank Blinking
Patient: It talks about insulin resistance and infertility and weight and a bunch of other things that I've been struggling with. Have you ever heard of this before?
Doctor: I just really don't know why you can't get pregnant, or why your bleeding is so erratic. Are you sure you don't want to go on the pill?
Patient: **PAUSE** NO. I don't want to go on the pill, nor will I ever go on the pill again. That's what caused this in the first place.
Doctor: The pill did not cause the problem. The pill is perfectly safe.
Patient: Not only will I never go on the pill again, I'm trying to have a baby...if you'll recall. Being on the pill will not help that goal, correct?
Doctor: Well, if you ever decide to have gastric bypass, I have some excellent recommendations.
Patient:
in her mind "WTF you complete incompetent MORON!!! I'm not fat enough for gastric bypass you money hungry, jacked up sonofabitch!!"
...but actually: Yeah, that's not something I'm going to consider right now.
Doctor: Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Is there anything else?
Patient: Nope. We're good. (And I will never be coming back here again.)

Anyway...there is a whole emotional/psychiatric piece to living with PCOS. Women with PCOS, 55% of them, tend to suffer at some point in time from significant bouts of depression. Can't imagine why...you're fat and hairy and you have no baby...what's to worry about? Anyway, and you're dealing with insensitive doctors which doesn't improve the situation.

Luckily, this girls story worked out somewhat better and from the aforementioned asshole, I was able to move on to a doctor that was somewhat better, immediately diagnosed my problem and hooked a sister up with some Metformin, which helps with the insulin problem, which in turn helps with the weight problem, which in turn helps with the heart problem, which in turn helps with the depression, which in turn helps with the enjoying life with others without periodically wanting to drive into the ocean. But I digress.

Doctors still push all of the expensive treatments, IVF and etc., but for the most part the Metformin has significantly helped. I've lost 60 lbs. which is no small feat, not that there aren't additional pounds to go, but it's much better than it was. I still have no baby, but at least the cycle piece isn't a nightmare like it use to be. Depression still comes and goes a little bit. Not real bad stuff, but the blues, I mostly stomp through it to the other side, or at least I try to, it mostly works, sometimes taking longer than others. It's a lonely disease, because unless you have it, most people don't understand it, and it's all uber personal stuff that you're not just going to open up about...unless you're writing a blog post on an unlocked blog...yeah, there's that. ;)

Anyway, the Metformin does have its side effects which can be difficult (extreme stomach sensitivity to put it politely but to be direct it can give you wicked awful diarrhea and debilitating stomach cramps unexpectedly no matter what you do...Hello my new friend Immodium.)

I guess the whole reason I started writing this was because today, I'm just pushing through my day. I've been up, off and on, since 2:00 a.m. with the aforementioned stomach upset, which really wipes me out, and now I'm tired and I just don't feel well. The Immodium kicked in, but I try to take it as a last resort because I don't want to overdo it.

Everyone has their cross to bear, and some are definitely worse than others, that's for sure. I'd rather keep the devil I know than trade him for one I don't. So I guess my point is, God bless you...and whatever difficulty you're going through. You'll get no guff from me, I've got my own things to worry about and am not about to borrow trouble by trying to tell you how to run your own life.

For myself...I'm smiling and chill...nobody's kicked me or is giving me any grief...and so I troop on just trying to keep my body hydrated and intact until I can go to bed again tonight and wake up to a brand, new day. :D