These Damn Fibroids

If you recall about 3 years I went to the gynecologist and found out I had fibroids after a few years of irregular and heavy menstrual cycles.  For the past couple of years my cycle has gotten worse. Although it comes regularly now, it’s much heavier, 7-12 days long, and extremely painful. There are times that I cannot get out of bed. I have to wear two overnight pads and change them every 2-3 hours. I pass blood clots that are the size of plums. I have nagging pelvic pain every single day. My stomach feels full as hell even when I’m hungry as hell. I have back pain. I’m anemic and but still feel weak half the time even though my prescribed dose has been doubled. It’s excruciating y’all.

10hrs

Up to 10 hours? Yeah for normal va jay jays!

So I tried to get another opinion. She prescribed me birth control. At our last appointment in March she basically fat shamed me and said that I if didn’t lose weight I would have to find another provider. So I decided to get a third opinion and leave her because, yeah, she’s a bitch.

Third doctor tried to discourage surgery this past summer. She said that they may come back and that they may need to take out my uterus. So she prescribed birth control for the pain and to lessen the flow. But here’s the thing…I would like to conceive someday. I can’t stay on birth control forever. I also tend to forget to take them sometimes. She also requested a trans-vaginal ultrasound but the hospital didn’t take my damn insurance. Sigh.

I started to feel hopeless but sought out a fourth opinion anyway. This past Monday I went to see someone new about my fibroids. I’ve had enough. I expressed my concerns to the gynecologist and for the first time I felt like someone was listening to me! We discussed options, invasive and non-invasive. He also did blood work to check my blood count. He also examined my uterus. I began to scream out in pain.

“Yeah, you’re going to need surgery. You have a 18 to 20 week uterus,”he said as he felt around.

“Are you serious?????!!!!!”

None of the previous doctors gave me such information. Here’s an illustration I snagged from thebump.com in case you need a visual. I know I did!

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The normal size of a non-pregnant uterus is the size of upside pear or about 7cm. So an 18-20 week pregnancy is close to the belly button and it’s about 18-20 centimeters. So I’m basically about 5 months pregnant with fibroids instead of a baby. After he examined me, I can still feel where he’s been a few days later. I have pain from my belly button down to my pelvis. My shortness of breath has worsen.

I’m having a trans-vaginal ultrasound this Friday. Once he gets back the results, we are going to have a more in-depth discussion about options next week.

Although surgery scares me, I’m just glad that someone finally took my concerns seriously. Took 3 damn years though! I hope I don’t need a hysterectomy.

Baby Got Fat!

I started things back up with The One Who Sets Me on Fire a couple of months ago. He’s been trying to see me since our last tryst in January but I always made excuses not to see him. And then my vagina got lonely.

Fire is one of the best lovers I’ve ever had. I swear he got his Ph.d at the Pussy Whisperer Institute. He has the stamina of a teenager and he’s awakened something inside of me that I didn’t know existed. I’m even writing poetry again. I’m way too shy to share it here though. I’m sensitive about my shit! I never knew that I would enjoy lovemaking. I’m so used to getting pounded like a dirty whore during detached yet highly orgasmic sex.
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He has shown me the beauty of taking my time and the power of touch. When he partakes in my body, it feels like an “experiencia religosa” (in my Enrique Iglesias voice). It’s like taking the scenic route. I’m no longer spiraling through ecstasy but falling into the grooves of it. A man has never look so deeply into my eyes during lovemaking. There are times I want to look away but something about our oneness redirects me.

Of course this sounds oh so lovely but there is one little issue. I think he may have a fat fetish. I have dealt with enough fetishes to know when I see one. When we make love, things occur. Initially, he would tell me how sexy I am and then it progressed to:

“I like a thick juicy woman!”
“All of this thickness turns me on!”
“I love your big ass titties. Slap and smother me with them.”
“Whose thick body this is?”
“Can’t you tell by the way I make love to that juicy body that you’re so fucking sexy?!”

I could go on and on but you get the picture. The mere talk of my fat seems to rev his engine more. It’s as if he becomes another person literally. That green eyed hippie turns into a soul brotha #9 when he’s inside of me. The loving is so good I tune him out most of the time. He definitely likes more cushion for the pushing. That’s fine. But our last time together, he did something weird. When I was riding him, he grabbed my belly, flapped it up and down profusely and talked dirty to me!!!

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There are two things that you just don’t do with fat girls. First, you don’t mess with our food. Secondly, you don’t gather up our belly, love handles, etc like you’re about to throw it over your shoulder! Seriously?! It was bad enough that I hated being on top because I sweat like a  Shaquille O’Neal pig. I felt like the fattest chick alive. I wanted to twitch my nose and bewitch my ass out of that situation!  Heck, I even briefly considered reactivating my gym membership! After several seconds, the loud flapping stopped. I was so relieved!

I must bring out the weird in people. Next time I wouldn’t be surprised if he fed me or rubbed lotion all over my skin before he stuck his hose in again.