Guest post – Update from a guest poster01/27/2011 at 11:11 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments
Tags: female sexual dysfunction, FSD, guest post, health, medicine, pain, sexual dysfunction, sexual health, vulvodynia
[Dear internet, we have a guest poster today! Rhiannon was the first guest poster we ever had here on Feminists with Female Sexual Dysfunction. It’s been a little over a year since her first post with us, and she has volunteered to share a follow-up of what’s been happening with her vulvar pain since then. The following account comes with a trigger warning though, for invasive medical procedures and brief mention of self-harm.]
The wisdom – or not – of pursuing medical options
A lot has happened since my last post. I spent most of the year celibate, trying to embrace that as a queer identify, and not really getting there; in September, I began a triad relationship with a man and a woman who were a couple. It has all fallen apart now, but my relationship with the man folded first, and a big part of that was that we couldn’t have sex.
When I told my GP this, she asked whether I was in treatment for the vulvodynia. I said I wasn’t, and explained how grim the treatment options had seemed before. She suggested that I could get a second opinion.
“Can’t hurt,” I said. I was wrong.
Now, going to the gynaecologist to have your vulvodynia examined is always going to be at least a little painful, because the chief symptom is pain and they have to cause a little in order to see where it is. The classic way of doing this is the cotton-bud test – a controlled and relatively gentle touch to the painful area to confirm its location. I know because I’ve had it done several times in the past.
Apparently this consultant hadn’t heard of it.
I had my history taken by a relatively nice registrar, and I thought that if she examined me it would be okay. Once she’d taken my history, though, she said she had to fetch the consultant because she’d never seen this before – fair enough, nobody can know everything – and I should get ready and wait on the bed. A nurse came in and talked me through the need to take my knickers off and pull my skirt up (and cover the tops of my thighs with that silly little piece of paper they always use… what purpose is that supposed to serve?).
The consultant appeared. He was a big black man who didn’t speak directly to me, just found his gloves and went to have a peer and a poke. I am aware that my prejudices could be showing here; I think that I would have found the behaviour rude in a white doctor or a female doctor, or indeed a shorter doctor, but I might not have been as frightened by it.
My Bartholin’s glands are visibly inflamed, and most doctors see that. I don’t think he noticed them, although I had mentioned that specifically when my history was taken by the registrar; he certainly didn’t try and avoid touching them. I have been examined many times, and it’s never comfortable, but this was very painful. It was as painful as penetrative sex is, in fact.
I gasped and cried out, I nearly screamed, and it must have been obvious because the nurse felt the need to hold my hand.
Afterwards, I was shaking and in tears. I was left alone to get dressed again – I managed to calm down by one of my milder self-harming methods. After what seemed like a long wait, the consultant and registrar returned with what appears to be a hurried print-out of some basic information (I suspect I know which website they used).
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” the consultant told me. “I’m going to have to ask around and see who I can refer you to.” They said that; the referral letter hasn’t arrived a month later, and if the new consultant will be anything like this one I shall have to think twice about going.
They left me alone with the nurse, who checked I was okay and had one last piece of final ironic advice: “Don’t go looking at the internet and scaring yourself.”
I was too shaken to tell her that the internet is the only place I’ve found comfort in facing vulvodynia.