Periods. They're the bane of my existence right now, and probably will be for a while. Here's my experience of them;
I started when I was 13, I think, a little later than other girls in my class, but I was okay with that. I started off with mild pain, and it never got into a rhythm, I'd miss months, I'd have extremely heavy periods then periods of just pain and a tiny bit of blood. Human bodies are weird like that. I got used to it though, then it started getting worse, I started feeling what I could only describe as 'snakes in my stomach', I'd be collapsing against counters and trying to serve customers in my part time job. It sucked. It really sucked. Gradually the pain began to get worse, throughout uni I suffered countless weeks under the effects of both period pain and depression. Suicidal thoughts and periods don't mix very well. My ex never cared much for me when I was on my period, I'd grown to look after myself, sending emails to lecturers explaining that I wouldn't be in their seminar today because of personal issues, whilst I was curled up trying to not breathe because breathing hurts. I tried to claw out my stomach once, because any other pain would be easier to deal with, and I remember afterwards staring at my stomach with tears on my face, unable to believe that I had caused those red lines that remained for a considerable amount of time. My housemate took me to hospital once because I started screaming, I couldn't stop, I had blacked out in the shower and when I became aware of what was happening I crawled upstairs in my towel and lay on my bed, the pain got worse steadily and I started crying out for help. My housemate got her friend to drive us to hospital and I tried to get in contact with my then-boyfriend, I called, text, wished he'd look at his phone - I knew he was in a seminar but when your girlfriend calls you and messages you about ten times and her housemate does the same...you answer. Anyway, I got into hospital and the pain began to fade. I saw a doctor and a nurse. It turns out I was iron anaemic, but that wasn't the root of the problem. I was booked in for a ultrasound and that was the end of that. I never actually managed to get my results back, because the hospital sent me on a wild goose chase around the country and it got stupid and I figured if it was bad they'd send a more pressing letter. They never sent another letter. I moved house for my third year, and the problem just got worse. There were other stresses happening at the time, like there always seemed to be during university (I had such a shitty university experience good fucking lord), and it just seemed to add to the pain. Paracetamol and Ibuprofen stopped working, I'd take as many as I was allowed to but my body seemed to just ignore the pain relief and it became worse. I'd noticed that stress was definitely a factor in my pain, but sometimes it really wasn't, I know I've got an issue with background stresses but it couldn't just be that, right? I'm in the process of booking an appointment at my current GP, because I can't deal with this. It's not fair. Last month, I went to Alton Towers with my boyfriend and his family, I'd known my period was coming but stress pushed it back, made it a week late and it just so happened to fall on the day that we went to Alton Towers, there quite literally couldn't have been a worse day. Anyway, I started feeling pain in the car, and hid it because I wanted my boyfriend to have a good time with his family and not worry about me (he does that too much), besides I was suffering with motion sickness at the time too, I was able to hide the pain behind that. We arrived at Alton Towers, and I knew it was going to get worse, much worse, I took four pills (two Paracetamol and two Ibuprofen), and shook off the pain in the bathroom stall. It started when we were in line, I was eating a cookie because I'd suddenly felt absolutely starving (probably because I'd missed breakfast in favour of feeling slightly sick), I was about three bites through the cookie when my vision suddenly began to go white and my legs went weak. I felt like I was going to throw up, I felt like I was dying, I leaned on Michael and he asked if I was okay, I don't remember being able to speak though. He sat me down on the floor and his sister got me a drink, I was dizzy and uncomfortable in my skin and feeling like shit because I realised I was about to ruin their day. We moved through the line, I'd stand, then sit again, until we got through and they searched our bags and we were actually in the theme park. It got so much worse then, and I remember feeling clammy and cold and the pain felt like someone had just put their hand through my stomach and tugged on my internal organs. I was asked if I wanted to sit on a bench or go to the medical center, I said the latter through clenched teeth and in the smallest voice I didn't think I had. I don't really remember getting there, but I was placed on fake leather seats and two emergency staff came over and I couldn't tell what they were saying because I was trying to keep my insides inside my stomach. I felt awful for ruining everyone's day. But the staff took me gently over to the beds and told me to lie down, Michael's mum took off my shoes and the staff asked if I wanted a cup of tea. I was given heat packs and Michael kissed my forehead. The pain wasn't decreasing though, but I pushed Michael and his sister to go on rides, his mum said she'd stay with me. I kept apologising to her, in a delirious, shy and scared way. I couldn't stop. The pain stopped after half an hour, or at least calmed down enough for me to profusely thank the staff for looking after me and thank Michael's mum. The emergency staff at Alton Towers were lovely, I really hold them in high regard, period pain isn't taken seriously by some people but they were very caring and kind when I needed it most. I hate my period. It doesn't make me stronger. It makes me weaker. I was terrified about this months period, worried that I'd be in the same position of unbearable pain. This month wasn't as bad as the last month. I was out for the count for two days (yesterday and the day before) but other than that, it's been...bearable. I've not woken up screaming in the dead of night, which has happened more times than I can count by the way, so I haven't been disturbing neighbours or Michael's sleep. This is me being brave. Sharing this experience of this part of my life is kind of personal, but I think I needed to, I've been wanting to write poetry about my experience - I've been told I'm excellent at writing about pain. Haha. I don't know if anyone reads through this blog, but if you've had a similar experience of a shitty period feel free to comment below, I'd be happy to discuss methods of halting the pain. There's more stuff I haven't mentioned, but I'm tired and my stomach is hurting again. Hope everyone is well.
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AuthorFrancesca, studied English & Creative Writing BA Hons. Gamer and poet. Socially anxious. ArchivesCategories |