Earlier this week, I started cramping. Odd for a girl who isn't supposed to get her period anymore, but I figured that it was just my body thinking it was time for AF (even though it's been about 3 months since my last real period).
Then, the cramps became a sharp, single cramp - like a stabbing pain in the center of my uterus. It would last for no more than 30 seconds to a minute, and then I'd be perfectly fine again.
I called the nurse yesterday morning. My doctor was booked solid and couldn't see me. First, she suggested the ER. Then, she said that the nurse practitioner had an opening. She said, "Let's get you in with her, and I know she will want you to have another ultrasound at the hospital."
In hindsight, I wish I'd gone to the ER.
I waited for an hour to see the NP. When she came in and did her internal exam, I flinched slightly when she pressed my bladder.
"Does this hurt?" she asked.
"Not really. Just the entire area 'down there' is sore," I replied.
She had me get dressed and when she returned, she came back with a survey . . . about my bladder.
Are you fucking kidding me?
"With pelvic pain this soon after surgery, I'm thinking you may have something else going on, like interstitial cystitis. It's a bladder condition..."
Wait, so now you think I suddenly have some chronic bladder conditions because I’ve been having what feels like contractions in my uterus for three days? Even though I don't feel like I have to pee all the time? Even though I don't ever (EVER) get up in the middle of the night to pee? Even though I only pee 7-10 times a day, not 30-60?
And now you want me to come into your office on a random Wednesday and get dye shot into my bladder because maybe or maybe not I have this condition because, truly, you people have NO FUCKING CLUE what to do about my body – just like everyone else?
I'm beginning to think that, when I come into a doctor's office and tell them about a new pain, they have this jar sitting at the nurse's station full of pieces of paper with different diseases on it. The doctor goes over to the jar each time and pulls out a new piece of paper.
"Well, maybe it's THIS!"
The worst part of it all is, as I'm crying (after I told this woman there is no way it's my bladder, I'm not coming back in to do that crazy test, and I'm certainly not taking any bladder relief medication in the meantime), the NP is talking to my actual doctor in the hall who is saying, "It can't be a cyst this soon after surgery."
I never said it was a motherfucking cyst. I actually said it was NOT a cyst. It feels nothing like a cyst! I SAID it was a sudden, stabbing cramp at the top of my uterus.
She came back in and saw me crying, and she apologized that I am in pain.
"I'm not in pain," I said. "I'm frustrated."
She told me to call back Monday and let them know if I've decided about the bladder test. (Uh, no.) She also gave me a choice to move to step two in my medication plan - meaning switch out the pills for the shot.
I don't think I'm doing that, either.
Instead, I'm going to continue the pills. I'm going to go to the ER if the pain returns. And, when I go back in June for the follow-up with my doctor, I'm going to tell him that the reason why I never called or came back after yesterday. It's because I left there feeling like I do with ever other doctor I've ever seen: more frustrated, less answers.
I can honestly say that I left there yesterday feeling more broken than I’ve felt in a long, long time. Not only am I tired of fighting the ignorance, but I am completely finished with trying to fight my body.
I give up.