The blood red badge of what-the-fuck?
I'm not one of those women who likes to talk about her period. I'm just not. I gracefully opt out of those intense office discussions in which the female staff members all compare their period now to their period on the pill to their period when they were 14.5 years old to their period in the periods to come. I do not play the "my period damn right is worse than yours" game. I do not invest in lavendar and thyme scented pantiliners. I do not feel the need to announce to my friends that "My GOD! the torrentialness of my period blah blah friggin' blah".
Nevertheless, here I am. Blogging about my period. This is my third month of bcp post-pregnancy. This is the third month of screwy goings on. So, here are three months worth of menstrual chronicles:
Month 1: Take my pills. My period starts when there are TWO PILLS LEFT IN MY PACK! What is up with that? That's never happened before, and I am a pill veteran I tell you. I know how to take me some pills. I chalk it up to post-partum weirdness and go about my business.
Month 2: Take my pills. My period starts when there are THREE PILLS LEFT IN MY PACK! THREE?! I decide to call Dr. W (who is the only! gyn available locally, that is why). After three days of phone conversations like this:
Nurse: But you're supposed to get your period at the end of your pills.
Me: No, no, no stupid bitch I still have pills to take. Not the white sugar pill ones, but the orange supposed-to-be-doing-something ones.
Nurse: Oh. I've never heard of that. I'll ask Dr. W and call you back tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes. Our conversation goes like this:
Nurse: But you're supposed to get your period at the end of your pills.
Me: No, no, no stupid bitch I still have pills to take. Not the white sugar pill ones, but the orange supposed-to-be-doing-something ones.
Nurse: Oh. I've never heard of that. I'll ask Dr. W and call you back tomorrow.
At long last, Dr. W relays to me, through his nurse, that my pills are indeed working. This is nothing to worry about. I decide to give Dr. W the benefit of the doubt that he may know what he's talking about. 'Cause he's the only gyn in town (except for Dr. V), so what choice do I have, that's why. So, I go about my business.
Month 3: I take my pills. I have bled every day. Every. goddamned. day. I don't know if one could call this my period, because it's not as heavy as it usually is. I do need to wear a pad. I still have orange pills to take. I'm still taking them. I'm still bleeding.
Is this menopause at 31? Or is this just my fucked up body taking its revenge because it had to endure a pregnancy? Is a hysterectomy breathing down my goddamned neck? Or is this normal for a post-partum girl? Why didn't I pay more attention during those office-wide period discussions. It just goes against all I believe in to initiate an office period discussion. I have tried to make myself do it. But I just can't. And God, I just don't think I can stand to call Dr. W's office again. Maybe if I liquor myself up some . . .
That is all.
Nevertheless, here I am. Blogging about my period. This is my third month of bcp post-pregnancy. This is the third month of screwy goings on. So, here are three months worth of menstrual chronicles:
Month 1: Take my pills. My period starts when there are TWO PILLS LEFT IN MY PACK! What is up with that? That's never happened before, and I am a pill veteran I tell you. I know how to take me some pills. I chalk it up to post-partum weirdness and go about my business.
Month 2: Take my pills. My period starts when there are THREE PILLS LEFT IN MY PACK! THREE?! I decide to call Dr. W (who is the only! gyn available locally, that is why). After three days of phone conversations like this:
Nurse: But you're supposed to get your period at the end of your pills.
Me: No, no, no stupid bitch I still have pills to take. Not the white sugar pill ones, but the orange supposed-to-be-doing-something ones.
Nurse: Oh. I've never heard of that. I'll ask Dr. W and call you back tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes. Our conversation goes like this:
Nurse: But you're supposed to get your period at the end of your pills.
Me: No, no, no stupid bitch I still have pills to take. Not the white sugar pill ones, but the orange supposed-to-be-doing-something ones.
Nurse: Oh. I've never heard of that. I'll ask Dr. W and call you back tomorrow.
At long last, Dr. W relays to me, through his nurse, that my pills are indeed working. This is nothing to worry about. I decide to give Dr. W the benefit of the doubt that he may know what he's talking about. 'Cause he's the only gyn in town (except for Dr. V), so what choice do I have, that's why. So, I go about my business.
Month 3: I take my pills. I have bled every day. Every. goddamned. day. I don't know if one could call this my period, because it's not as heavy as it usually is. I do need to wear a pad. I still have orange pills to take. I'm still taking them. I'm still bleeding.
Is this menopause at 31? Or is this just my fucked up body taking its revenge because it had to endure a pregnancy? Is a hysterectomy breathing down my goddamned neck? Or is this normal for a post-partum girl? Why didn't I pay more attention during those office-wide period discussions. It just goes against all I believe in to initiate an office period discussion. I have tried to make myself do it. But I just can't. And God, I just don't think I can stand to call Dr. W's office again. Maybe if I liquor myself up some . . .
That is all.
posted by ~L @ 8:56 AM
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