“This is normal. Everyone gets period cramps. You are in control of your pain so just eat right and exercise.” These are just some of the comments I’ve heard from medical professionals.
They’re right, it’s all in my head. The mind-numbing pain that has me crouching over as my organs betray me, keeping me bedridden is purely psychosomatic.
My favorite thing about women’s health is the indoctrinated gaslighting.
I love sitting in the exam room, riddled with anxiety, only for a doctor to advise me to drink a glass of red wine and relax.
So if you're anti-medicine or an alcoholic, feel free to talk with a gynecologist or women’s health specialist for your twice-daily prescription of Cabernet Sauvignon.
Every person has their breaking point and mine is seared into my memory because I could’ve never imagined a pain like that existed until I was the one screaming for help.
The fall semester of my freshman year in college, I was sitting in my geology class when I felt like hell was brought down on me.
I had a sudden, inconceivable pain spreading from my pelvis to my whole body that had me in tears, screaming through the night as I went through an eight-count pack of pads within two hours.
As I was lying on the floor in pain, I could only feel anger. I was furious because I knew what was happening yet I also knew I was going to be dismissed by medical professionals.
That was my reality.
I got my period when I was 10-years-old and by the time I was 14, I had a laundry list of symptoms.
It's normal to have irregular cycles for the first few years after starting a period, according to an article published by the United Kingdom’s National Health Service.
But my irregular menstrual cycles were paired with unresponsive acne, a stubborn abdominal pouch that didn’t shed despite my hours of dance training and nearly a wig’s worth of hair loss daily.
With heavy hesitation, my pediatrician toyed with a polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) diagnosis and crossed off any other hormonal illnesses.
She suggested a topical ultrasound to determine if I had any ovarian cysts, which she said were extremely rare at my age.
The tests came back inconclusive and I was sent home as my symptoms continued spiraling.
Nothing to see therefore nothing could be wrong – until the fall of freshman year, when my inconclusive cyst ruptured sending me into the most painful experience of my life.
Since my first period, my slew of symptoms have been dismissed as something normal.
My daily routine for a decade has consisted of stabbing pain, taking “progress” photos to see if my bloating disappeared, crying about my hair loss, eating restrictively, walking around with searing leg pain and becoming a WebMD certified doctor to help myself because no actual physician wanted the job.
This uncertified doctorate landed me in urgent care after I self-diagnosed myself with appendicitis from the agonizing pelvic pain that I was feeling.
The practitioner eventually told me it was a “normal part of womanhood” and he mindlessly recommended that I drink merlot and relax – that’s right, not even a pinot noir.
Thanks for the wine recommendation but I didn’t walk into a winery, I walked into a hospital – a place that’s supposedly interested in alleviating pain not numbing it.
It also wasn’t great to be mansplained by a cisgender man who dismissed my agony as womanhood.
I helplessly went home and continued my daily routine of trying to quell my symptoms by watching YouTube health influencers and scouring through several Google search pages.
In seven years, I’ve been tossed between five gynecologists, two general practitioners and one endocrinologist before being diagnosed with PCOS, a disease that’s considered the most common endocrinopathy disorder in people of reproductive age, according to an August 2011 National Library of Medicine study.
It took another two years before I was diagnosed with endometriosis, a condition when endometrial tissue grows outside the uterus, according to a Mayo Clinic article.
It takes an average 8.6 years for a person to be diagnosed with endometriosis, according to a 2020 National Library of Medicine study.
The study found that approximately 75.2% of patients “reported being misdiagnosed with another physical health and/or mental health problem” by gynecologists and general practitioners.
During these prolonged waiting times where I was misdiagnosed or gaslighted into thinking that nothing was wrong, I learned about a plethora of other diseases.
The sad reality is that people with menstrual cycles go years thinking that their excruciating symptoms are synonymous with having a uterus.
They’re prescribed a one-size-fits-all dose of birth control combined with generic instructions to exercise and eat a balanced diet, all of which needs to be tailored to an individual but never is.
I’m frustrated with health practitioners' inability to empathize with their patients and assist menstruators with their specific concerns.
It’s time for practitioners to revamp their approach to gynecological illnesses and create a comprehensive plan to help menstruators feel supported.
