What I talk about when I talk about women's health

It was as if there was a big stone in my stomach. A big sharp stone that stabs when I turn this way or that way. That stabs when I sit.

I decided to go to the hospital because the pain was too much. That is the thing about pain, it demands to be felt. And it nags at you till you actually do something about it.

I wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t have pain and it was making it hard for me to work. I had missed my period for months and I was gaining a lot of weight. I was noticing different changes in my body but it was just something to wonder about in the morning while looking at the mirror. Just a thought you ponder upon for a few minutes then off to the next one.

But pain… pain is hard to ignore.

I think that is why my body sent pain. I was missing all the other signs but pain couldn’t be mistaken.

I strolled down to the gynecologist after a busy morning. I almost missed my appointment but didn’t want to live off the anti pain medication I was popping just to function.

Is this your first ultrasound? She asks me as she finally scans me after a series of questions. I am still in shock from the pain I felt when she touched my pelvis. Paralyzed even. I mean… I had let out a scream. Am I really down that bad?

It wasn’t my first ultrasound. I had a scan the year before albeit it was rushed and I had to beg the resident during my night duty as an intern to just scan me once as I really needed a work up for my consecutively missed periods. He reluctantly did it and cleared me. I had the result in my gown pocket for a while. Normal abdominopelvic ultrasound.

I also had a series of work ups that emptied my bank account during that time. It was a lot of hormonal tests  priced much more than my intern salary could afford. I managed somehow.  They only showed slight deviations which meant nothing with my normal ultrasound as the doctor I was consulting then told me.

You are probably stressed. Don’t be stressed, he told me.

I agreed. I stressed a lot anyway.

Now this gynecologist scans me and looks at me again, ‘You have polycystic ovarian syndrome’.she says And just like that… I have PCOS.

I cried. Then I cried for a few more days. Then cry once in a while about it afterwards.

I had worked in sexual and reproductive health, rights and justice for years. We had a podcast on it and there was an entire episode dedicated to menstrual irregularities and what they might mean. I have gone around giving trainings on menstrual cycles and when they are abnormal. Heck… I am a full blown doctor.

Yet, I somehow couldn’t diagnose myself. Couldn’t push further as my amennorhea (that is what we call absence of menses for more than one month) was cleared as stress.

I was mad. And sad.

I went through another round of tests. Waiting with worry for results. I started taking pills daily. The pain started to decrease. I looked for friends and family to get me the supplements I needed to be better. I enrolled at the gym and changed my diet.

Is it easy? No!

Everything is very expensive. Everything is so confusing. There aren’t many people to guide you in the journey. I just constantly browse over online communities and look at recipes and supplements which I probably can never prepare. I listen to suggestions, stories ,packages, meal plans, coaches only to be frustrated that none of it applies to my context.

And I am a 26 years old doctor living in the city with the internet and a wide network of doctors with family and friends who actually know what PCOS is.

Yet it is hard.

When I talk about women’s health, these are the things I talk about: if it was this difficult for me to get diagnosed and treated, how much more difficult is it for the other women? Women who live in rural areas, women with no access to the internet, women who have no access to quality healthcare, women with no educational background?

I think that is what feminism is.

*This article has previously been shared on findingfura. It is shared here for PCOS awareness month in September.