Periods, Cramps, and Cysts, Oh My!
When I was twelve years old, I got my first period on a family trip in Northern California. I knew what was happening when it did, and the only person I told was my mother. I remember feeling gloomy and not just because the weather was foggy, but because not knowing how to use a tampon meant that I couldn’t go in the jacuzzi or pool. The sunken feeling of isolation and discomfort about my body was heightened by the lack of period talk I had growing up.
For those of you who may not know it, I have a uterus. Here is its story:
For the first year or two that I had my period, it came with the classic uterine lining shedding symptoms of lower back pain and lower abdomen cramping every third Thursday like clockwork. It just so happened that every Thursday of the eighth grade I had volleyball after school, which meant tight spandex, and ultimately learning how to use tampons quickly so my underwear lines wouldn’t show. But that wasn’t the problem, the problem was the intensity of the pain I experienced — heat pads and Midol became my best friends (not that they did much to alleviate my pain).
Within that first year, my mom noticed my discomfort and suggested I visit her gynecologist’s physician’s assistant, Lynette. Lynette created a space of comfort with her sweet caring voice, validating words and infinite number of possible solutions.
What I did not know those first few visits to Lynette was that I would spend the next eight years (and counting) toying with solutions for my cramping abdomen. I couldn’t begin to name the different kinds of contraception pills I have been through since my first visit to the gynecologist, but I can tell you that there have probably been between eight and twelve.
My experience with contraception went a little something like this: Lynette would prescribe me a contraceptive pill, it may or may not have alleviated my intense cramps after a few months of spotting, and if shit had not hit the fan by then, something within me would drastically worsen and the incessant cramps or back pain would return. Often times I would have my period or be spotting for half of the month. I don’t own white pants for this very reason.
My menstrual back pain which started at 13 gave me a preview of the much worse chronic back pain I experienced from 16 to 20. When the time came that I was experiencing this menstrual back pain on top of a persistently aching, cramping, and tight back, I was emotionally and physically exhausted by my body.
Every so often I would go back to Lynette, greeted by many loving apologies and game plans to get control over my body. Soon enough, 8th grade went by, then freshman year of high school, sophomore and junior year, and then suddenly, I was a senior.
I can vividly remember the first time I came out as queer in a doctors office because it was to Lynette, a doctor I had come to know so well. She had asked me if I was sexually active, and I had answered yes, noted immediately that I had a partner by the name of Carrie and that I identified as bisexual. She had a bit of a surprising look in her eyes, but ultimately said that she was happy for me and noted aloud that I would not be using birth control for pregnancy prevention while writing in my chart.
Looking back at this moment years later, I can still remember the discomfort with having to explain my sexuality to my doctor. I actually anticipated that discomfort having read on a queer online platform about doctors who do not understand that cisgender women having unprotected sex does not necessarily mean that they are at risk of being getting pregnant. It baffles me to this day how quickly nurses and doctors literally forget that queerness exists.
With my first year of university came a new world of freedom. Suddenly I could be anywhere and everywhere that I wanted to be, which ultimately meant that I was taking the pill several hours or even a day late. For those of you who have never taken a contraceptive pill, if you miss a pill, you may have spotting, cramping, or bloating. A small inconvenience nonetheless, but for someone who already has period issues and is on the pill for said issues, it becomes frustrating that the medication creates more problems than it solves.
Over the following summer, I began to have extreme discomfort, bloating and cramping. I went to my general doctor looking for answers and was sent to a Gastro-Intestinal specialist who ordered an endoscopy. When the endoscopy came back all clear, I was hardly relieved — I wanted answers.
Emotionally and physically drained, I returned to my general doctor who mentioned the possibility of an ovarian cyst. Three intravaginal and two abdominal ultrasounds later, my doctors found an ovarian cyst that was the size of a grapefruit. I was relieved sitting back in Lynette’s office for probably the twelfth time in six years when she told me the cyst would go away on its own and could be prevented with the right type of contraception. I didn’t care what needed to be done — I just wanted to be out of pain.
So, I headed back to Canada for my second year of McGill with a lunch box full of NuvaRings, my newest form of contraception, kept cold by ice packs in my carry on. That semester I was in the worst back pain and depression I have ever experienced. The hormonal strength of the NuvaRing did not help my constantly cramping body and certainly did not contribute positively to my mental illness. I was taking three classes because I could not sit for longer than an hour at a time without having intense pain shoot down my legs and into my ankles.
That January, I decided to have a minor back surgery to improve my back pain and got on another type of contraception — back to a pill. It worked rather well for six months, until I started having periods twice a month. Sheesh, was I so over contraception.
I had read a book over that summer called Period Repair Manual: Natural Treatment for Better Hormones and Better Periods. Its author, Dr. Lara Briden, had patients who unsuccessfully took the pill to reduce period pain, and she concluded that period health is often representative of your general health. I met my current partner, Kayleigh, around March, and by August, I decided I wanted to give the pill a break because I did not need it for pregnancy prevention.
I was so happy with my decisions for months, having short and manageable periods every 28 days with minimal cramps, finally able to do yoga and work out without back pain. Then the ball dropped around April or May of this year when I began to feel symptoms which reflected cysts like cramping and extreme bloating for the week after I ovulated. I knew I was ovulating because I began to track my period with the app Flo.
I do not recommend this app due to their heterosexist and homophobic discussion questions which ignore the fact that some people who do not identify as a woman have periods. I came to this realization when I read comments in forums from trans, nonbinary and gender nonconforming folks who felt invalidated and triggered by the app’s binary categorizations of sex and gender.
Although I did not support the harmful work the app was doing, I, along with many other queer, trans and nonbinary folks continued to use the app because its free and I have not found a better alternative. Tracking my menstruation cycle has provided me with a lot of clarity towards my experiences of pain because it allowed me to prepare for premenstrual symptoms and ovarian cysts. For these reasons, I still use Flo, but would love to hear of more inclusive alternatives.
In Montreal for the summer, I was thousands of miles away from Lynette and needed an intravaginal ultrasound to confirm the existence of a cyst. By the time I found someone to do the ultrasound, I had already suspected it had burst. To me, it was clear that the cyst burst when I felt a strong pain talking on the phone with my Mom three days before the ultrasound and the images confirmed my suspicion when the doctor found nothing.
Thankfully, I have been able to see Lynette twice this August as I went back to LA for the month. We have decided that I will be trying another contraceptive pill. I am not exactly ecstatic to be back on birth control and having been spotting for two weeks straight, but I can only try and follow the doctor’s orders and hope for the best.
I write out my menstruation journey because I think it is essential we start having more open and honest conversations about periods. I am so fed up with hiding tampons in the sleeves of my sweatshirt and hearing people talk about vaginas like some delicate type of flower that nobody gets to talk about but many folks (not just women and not all women) have.
I think that the world should also see and hear about those who have stubborn uteruses that cause legitimate pain, which should be recognized and validated in workplaces, schools and public restrooms.
I leave my readers with a dream; I wish for a utopia where there are free, environmentally friendly period products and healthcare services for every single person with a period. I am talking about a world where menstruation is spoken about amongst those who do not have periods, a space where education breaks down barriers of difference and where bleeding once a month does not inhibit folks from attending school and living their lives.
For myself, I hope that this contraception is the one that works *phone alarm rings in the background*.
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About the Author
Natalie Olivares (she/her) is studying Gender, Sexuality, Feminist, and Social Justice Studies and Art History at McGill University in Montreal. She is a photographer and poet; more of Natalie’s work can be seen on her blog, Confessions of a 21st Century Chick. Natalie has radical feminist and queer centered views with an intersectional lens. She loves dogs, the ocean, R&B music and plants. She is optimistic and pessimistic about the future, given our current socio-political state, but is grateful to be a part of the inclusive-media revolution!
