Please bear with me during this post. While it is long, it's very important to me, and reading it would raise awareness. It was hard for me to type this all out, but I do hope that it helps somebody for me to tell my story.
This past week, I experienced the first ounce of being uninsured by healthcare. I'd like to start this blog post with stating that I'm so lucky to have healthcare, and to not have to worry about it very much in the past. My parents are so lucky to have jobs that insure healthcare, and I couldn't imagine not being able to be insured, for whatever reason.
This past week I took a trip to the gynecology office. I've only gone once before, just to discuss birth control methods that were best for me, and that trip was over two years ago. The trip consisted of discussing methods with my doctor, learning what they all do to your body, thanking her, and leaving. This next trip was a bit more complicated. Let me explain.
Ever since I started dating my now-boyfriend Mark, I found that while we were intimate, I was in pain in my vagina. I had no idea why, and it became so bad that I ended up telling my partner that we couldn't continue to have intercourse until I wasn't out of pain anymore. I looked up my symptoms, and found the diagnosis vaginismus, which was described as a pain you feel in your vagina during sex, with varying degrees of pain. For some people it was mild, and they could still partake in sex. For other people, the pain was so high that they couldn't even use a tampon. The pain could come from anything, but most likely comes from having had a traumatic experience in the past, whether that be sexual assault, or even a death of a loved one. The vagina is a muscle, and just like any other muscle, it can tighten due to stress or trauma.
So I made an appointment with my gynecologist. I figured she would be able to help me, and I was right. She sat with me, listened to me, and made me feel heard and safe discussing what I'm feeling. She then took a pelvic exam (which, let me tell you. Not fun.), and the pelvic exam was so painful to me that she stopped halfway through. She told me that vaginismus, while it is a term, it is a very outdated term, and acts as an umbrella for all of the other terms. She found that I have something called vulvar vestibulitis, which is concentrated pain and inflammation in the vulva of the vagina. For me, this is caused by my birth control method. The pill. At this point, I'm pretty baffled. I didn't think the pill could cause anything besides the normal side effects, and now I've been having this immense pain all because of this tiny pill?
Here's the catch: It's fairly common.
The hormones in the pill (estrogen and testosterone), while they are heightened in most places in your body, they actually lower the amount of hormones in your vagina. What does that mean? It means it then causes pain down there, and it takes about a year for the pain to begin.
After a long conversation with my gynecologist, we found that the best option for me is to change my method to the IUD. This came as a relief to me, because I've wanted it from the get-go, and it would let me have sex again without wincing?! Awesome. Sign me up.
I was all ready to go. Had the appointment, talked to my mom, and was panicking in my normal-anxiety-panic about the procedure about 99% of the time. I then got a phone call from my gynecologist office, telling me that the IUD and procedure would not be covered by my insurance and that I should go to Planned Parenthood, or risk having to pay $900 for the procedure at my office. Not only did I not have even $20, much less the $500 I would spend at PP, but I was finally feeling safe in a doctor's office, and felt comfortable to have her do the procedure on me. While I knew Planned Parenthood was a viable, comfortable, and safe choice, I didn't like the idea of having to start the process of vulnerability and feeling safe with a doctor all over again. I spent the rest of the day calling home and panic-crying. Was I destined to be in this pain forever? Was I ever going to be able to stand up in class and not feel like I have to sit right back down to stop the pain? Would life be normal for me ever again?
I lived in that state of panic for about two days. Questioning, making phone calls, crying, and having anxiety attacks. I was genuinely scared. And in this time, I couldn't stop thinking about those people that have to deal with this feeling when they have any sort of doctor appointment. I couldn't imagine living in that sort of stress, and feeling let down by your country every time you had to rummage for another who-knows-how-much just to get your physical done.
I ended up being able to find a result, and our gynecologist office didn't know the full extent as to why our insurance couldn't cover it. I now know that it will be covered, and the procedure is back on. I can't stop thinking, though, about how there are so many people in this country who wouldn't have the relief I had. Who would have to give out $900 for that procedure. Who simply, couldn't afford care.
It's a scary world we're living in. And while I fully understand that I'm living in a life that's incredibly privileged, it makes me want to fight harder for those that aren't privileged, because healthcare should never be something for the privileged. It's a basic, human right.
On that note, we should also be teaching people more about staying safe. We should be talking about women's health. Women should know about all of these things. There are so many women affected by vulvar vestibulitis, and I hadn't heard about it until almost a year after I've had it. There's something wrong with that. About 30% of people with vaginas feel pain during sex, compared to 5% of people with penises. Why are we not talking about this? All people, regardless of what they have between their legs, should learn about what could affect them, and what kind of pain they might feel. It took me a year to learn what was wrong with me. I spent that whole year panicking about STI's. And I was one of the lucky ones.
For some people, it takes years, because there is a stigma that all women feel pain down there, and you likely just need to relax in a tub with some Ben and Jerry's. A doctor actually told me that my pain in my vagina is likely made up, and not a big deal.
Women grow up with the idea that sex will be painful. Your hymen will break, they say. It's usually painful for women, just let it go, they dismiss. Scientifically, your hymen should not break. If you're aroused and feel safe, it likely won't break. Pain during sex is NEVER normal. This stigma is directly rooted in the idea that sex should only be pleasurable for men. While it's not what these people directly say, it's what's between the lines.
If you have pain during sex, or even not during sex, go talk to a trusted doctor. And if they give you any of that misogynistic "go take a bath and relax," quote Rachel Green with the classic "No uterus, no opinion," and check yourself in to a Planned Parenthood.
You are important, regardless of what's between your legs, and you deserve the same care as anybody else. Never let anybody tell you otherwise.
This past week, I experienced the first ounce of being uninsured by healthcare. I'd like to start this blog post with stating that I'm so lucky to have healthcare, and to not have to worry about it very much in the past. My parents are so lucky to have jobs that insure healthcare, and I couldn't imagine not being able to be insured, for whatever reason.
This past week I took a trip to the gynecology office. I've only gone once before, just to discuss birth control methods that were best for me, and that trip was over two years ago. The trip consisted of discussing methods with my doctor, learning what they all do to your body, thanking her, and leaving. This next trip was a bit more complicated. Let me explain.
Ever since I started dating my now-boyfriend Mark, I found that while we were intimate, I was in pain in my vagina. I had no idea why, and it became so bad that I ended up telling my partner that we couldn't continue to have intercourse until I wasn't out of pain anymore. I looked up my symptoms, and found the diagnosis vaginismus, which was described as a pain you feel in your vagina during sex, with varying degrees of pain. For some people it was mild, and they could still partake in sex. For other people, the pain was so high that they couldn't even use a tampon. The pain could come from anything, but most likely comes from having had a traumatic experience in the past, whether that be sexual assault, or even a death of a loved one. The vagina is a muscle, and just like any other muscle, it can tighten due to stress or trauma.
So I made an appointment with my gynecologist. I figured she would be able to help me, and I was right. She sat with me, listened to me, and made me feel heard and safe discussing what I'm feeling. She then took a pelvic exam (which, let me tell you. Not fun.), and the pelvic exam was so painful to me that she stopped halfway through. She told me that vaginismus, while it is a term, it is a very outdated term, and acts as an umbrella for all of the other terms. She found that I have something called vulvar vestibulitis, which is concentrated pain and inflammation in the vulva of the vagina. For me, this is caused by my birth control method. The pill. At this point, I'm pretty baffled. I didn't think the pill could cause anything besides the normal side effects, and now I've been having this immense pain all because of this tiny pill?
Here's the catch: It's fairly common.
The hormones in the pill (estrogen and testosterone), while they are heightened in most places in your body, they actually lower the amount of hormones in your vagina. What does that mean? It means it then causes pain down there, and it takes about a year for the pain to begin.
After a long conversation with my gynecologist, we found that the best option for me is to change my method to the IUD. This came as a relief to me, because I've wanted it from the get-go, and it would let me have sex again without wincing?! Awesome. Sign me up.
I was all ready to go. Had the appointment, talked to my mom, and was panicking in my normal-anxiety-panic about the procedure about 99% of the time. I then got a phone call from my gynecologist office, telling me that the IUD and procedure would not be covered by my insurance and that I should go to Planned Parenthood, or risk having to pay $900 for the procedure at my office. Not only did I not have even $20, much less the $500 I would spend at PP, but I was finally feeling safe in a doctor's office, and felt comfortable to have her do the procedure on me. While I knew Planned Parenthood was a viable, comfortable, and safe choice, I didn't like the idea of having to start the process of vulnerability and feeling safe with a doctor all over again. I spent the rest of the day calling home and panic-crying. Was I destined to be in this pain forever? Was I ever going to be able to stand up in class and not feel like I have to sit right back down to stop the pain? Would life be normal for me ever again?
I lived in that state of panic for about two days. Questioning, making phone calls, crying, and having anxiety attacks. I was genuinely scared. And in this time, I couldn't stop thinking about those people that have to deal with this feeling when they have any sort of doctor appointment. I couldn't imagine living in that sort of stress, and feeling let down by your country every time you had to rummage for another who-knows-how-much just to get your physical done.
I ended up being able to find a result, and our gynecologist office didn't know the full extent as to why our insurance couldn't cover it. I now know that it will be covered, and the procedure is back on. I can't stop thinking, though, about how there are so many people in this country who wouldn't have the relief I had. Who would have to give out $900 for that procedure. Who simply, couldn't afford care.
It's a scary world we're living in. And while I fully understand that I'm living in a life that's incredibly privileged, it makes me want to fight harder for those that aren't privileged, because healthcare should never be something for the privileged. It's a basic, human right.
On that note, we should also be teaching people more about staying safe. We should be talking about women's health. Women should know about all of these things. There are so many women affected by vulvar vestibulitis, and I hadn't heard about it until almost a year after I've had it. There's something wrong with that. About 30% of people with vaginas feel pain during sex, compared to 5% of people with penises. Why are we not talking about this? All people, regardless of what they have between their legs, should learn about what could affect them, and what kind of pain they might feel. It took me a year to learn what was wrong with me. I spent that whole year panicking about STI's. And I was one of the lucky ones.
For some people, it takes years, because there is a stigma that all women feel pain down there, and you likely just need to relax in a tub with some Ben and Jerry's. A doctor actually told me that my pain in my vagina is likely made up, and not a big deal.
Women grow up with the idea that sex will be painful. Your hymen will break, they say. It's usually painful for women, just let it go, they dismiss. Scientifically, your hymen should not break. If you're aroused and feel safe, it likely won't break. Pain during sex is NEVER normal. This stigma is directly rooted in the idea that sex should only be pleasurable for men. While it's not what these people directly say, it's what's between the lines.
If you have pain during sex, or even not during sex, go talk to a trusted doctor. And if they give you any of that misogynistic "go take a bath and relax," quote Rachel Green with the classic "No uterus, no opinion," and check yourself in to a Planned Parenthood.
You are important, regardless of what's between your legs, and you deserve the same care as anybody else. Never let anybody tell you otherwise.
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