The title alone ought to scare you off.
A couple of years ago I treated you all to the mental imagery of the bloodbath that followed the removal of my first Mirena. I waited a few months before deciding what to do about birth control, and since there wasn't any actual having of The Sex, it wasn't an issue. Later that year, along came SG and I made the decision to have a new Mirena installed. Personally, I wish I could forego using any sort of birth control whatsoever. I don't like interrupting my natural cycle. With the Mirena I bleed like hell when they put it in and when they take it out and not a drop in between. No periods. On first blush, it seems like a great idea -- but the truth is the thought of interrupting my body's natural uterine function really bothers me. What else does one do, though, when one is seeing someone who lights her up like a pinball machine and its too soon to talk about serious ongoing relationship issues like do you want any more children and do you want to get married and would you please have a vasectomy even though we're only dating?
Well, we did get married, and no, we don't want any more children, and surprisingly, he's not opposed to being the one responsible for managing our mutual fertility. We weren't in a hurry to make any decisions about it, though, with another three years of shelf life left on my IUD.
Until last week.
I woke up in the middle of the night Tuesday with something that seemed like a horrific conflation of the worst IBS attack in the history of the universe and an abrupt return of the most extreme symptoms of endometrisosis I'd ever experienced. All the pressure of the IBS episode was causing me to feel like someone was slicing up my reproductive system with a machete. I assumed it would pass, I really did -- but it didn't. I managed with the assistance of a lot of fiber and other handy-dandy gastro-intestinal remedies to solve the pressure problem, but the pelvic pain just wasn't going away. I couldn't even sit down and pee without having such bad pain I couldn't catch my breath. It even hurt to walk.
By the end of the second day I figured it was time for a medical intervention. Dr. A was pretty concerned. He ordered labs, started me on antibiotics and a buttload of pain control medication. And I do mean buttload. Hellooooooo Valium, Hydrocodone and Donnatal, my new best friends. Within 24 hours I could manage walking upright, but it was clear things weren't really quite right down there.
Dr. A made a followup with me for a few days later and requested I also make an appointment with my gynecologist as soon as possible. Except I don't actually HAVE a gynecolist at the moment. He gave me a referral to a local guy and so I called their office to see when I could get in. "As soon as possible" when you're calling a gynecologist's office you've never seen before turns out to be something like a month from now, unless, like me, you're willing to turn on the waterworks over the phone in which case it turns into that afternoon.
We didn't actually get to see the guy we were referred to , we got one of his associates, but that was fine. He checked the labs my doctor had ordered and agreed there was infection. Then he put instruments of torture up my vagina and did something so horribly painful to my cervix that I practically leaped out of the stirrups and through one of the ceiling tiles while my head did a 360 degree rotation on the top of my shoulders.
Once I could again breathe normally, I asked him what might be causing said painful infection. He rattled off a number of potential reasons, but mostly he thought it was the IUD. I asked him if leaving it in would make it harder to get rid of the infection and he said that he believed yes, it would. Et voila. Out with you, then.
He then gave me prescriptions for more antibiotics and requested I come back in two weeks, with orders for absolutely no sex in the meantime.
As if that weren't bad enough, it turns out the one of the antibiotics reacts badly with caffeine and the other reacts badly with alcohol.
And just like the last time I got my IUD removed, the river of blood has commenced, which has done absolutely nothing to improve my mood.
But you know, I'm a generous girl. I believe in sharing my pain. I've asked SG to find a urologist in our insurance network with the first available appointment and go ahead with getting neutered a vasectomy. Misery, as they say, loves company.
He loves me, that man. Its a damn good thing.