Back Story Part 1 : The 90's

In order to get my blog started and perform the "brain dump" that I am in desperate need of, I'm going to begin with a series of posts that will bring everyone up to date with my fertility journey. Here goes.

I got my first-ever visit from AF in June 1991. I remember it distinctly only because it came on the day before the last day of school. I had just turned 11. Things proceeded quite normally until ~1996, when AF just disappeared for several months. My mother knew that this wasn't normal, and despite my begging her not to, she told my pediatrician about it at my annual physical. What followed was my first "exam" of the nether-regions, if you could even call it an "exam". Being that she was a pediatrician, she wasn't set up for a full look-see of my southern hemisphere - she could only examine the openings and external anatomy (trust me, I am comfortable with the proper anatomical terminology, but I don't want people coming here because they've searched for p0rn or God knows what else). She determined that things were normal, and that she saw nothing that could explain why AF went missing. She said that sometimes these things just happen in teens because they aren't quite regulated in their cycles.

I do believe that particular visit was the last time I went to a pediatrician. I pretty much put my foot down - partly out of shear embarrassment, but also partly because I had clearly bumped up against the limits of their knowledge with my "womanly problem". I remember seeing a family doctor for my next visit later that year, probably for a sinus infection or something of that sort. Once again, Mother brought up the subject of AF as she was still among the missing. The family doctor suggested I see a gynecologist since they are properly trained in these sorts of things. He suggested a fellow by the name of Dr. S.

The visit with Dr. S. was probably the most uncomfortable gynecological exam I have ever been given. It was an awkward visit in general. It started off with some waiting room drama - Mother nearly blew a gasket when she was told that she couldn't come into the exam with me. She had been asked to step outside the room when the pediatrician examined me as well, so I thought this should have been old-hat to her but apparently not. Of course Dr. S. began by asking me several times if I was pregnant, is there any chance I could be pregnant, was I *sure* I wasn't pregnant, was I *sure* I wasn't sexually active, etc. He had all the beside manner of a cactus and was so quick to assume that I was sexually active and had gotten myself into a little "situation". This was absolutely mortifying. It was beyond mortifying. I had never had a boyfriend, never been kissed, never been on a date - and to be treated like I just *must* be sexually active was humiliating.

If I thought the questioning was rough, the exam was worse. There was no warning to anything he did. It felt like he was ramming a doorknob into my girly parts. There was no concern or compassion for my mental or emotional well-being. When the exam was over, he brought Mother and I into his office where he reviewed what he found. He spoke into a dictation machine so that the info could later be transcribed into my file. To show what little regard he had for me, he didn't even get my name right as he was starting off his whole speal. I think this doctor's visit was the first time I had ever felt like less of a person. Sure, I'd been picked on by the other kids LOTS of times - but this doctor took the cake. To say that the experience was "mortifying" and "humiliating" really is an understatement.

The end result was that he didn't find anything upon examining me that would suggest why AF had gone missing. He ordered up a few days' worth of progesterone to jumpstart a cycle, and if that didn't work, he said he'd do more tests. I honestly don't even remember if AF returned at the prodding of the progesterone or not. I do remember that Mother did agree with me that Dr. S was an ass clown, and there was no pressure to see him again.

Fast forward to October 1998. I was a freshman in college. AF had been hit or miss (mostly miss) since 1996, but that fall she came back with a VENGEANCE. I don't know that I have EVER had such a heavy period. In retrospect, I suppose I should have seen a doctor but I didn't.

The next milestone on this journey came in February 1999 when I met Mr. Lost. A few months after we began dating, we became sexually active and in August 1999 I did the responsible thing - I made an appointment with a different gynecologist, Dr. R, for an exam and to get a prescription for The Pill. Dr. R had a much better personality and bedside manner than Dr. S, but Dr. R wasn't perfect - he remains the only gynecologist who has ever felt it necessary to include an anal exam as part of a routine gyno exam. Allegedly it's so that my uterus could be examined better - being that I am overweight, apparently you can't necessarily feel it appropriately just by pressing on the lower abdomen. Thank God none of the doctors I've seen since have had the same notion as he has. It's an "exit only" hole, thankyouverymuch.

In any event, at that first visit I had just recently seen something about this disorder called "polycystic ovarian syndrome" in a magazine my mother had - Woman's Day, perhaps? It sounded like me - absent AF, hair in all the wrong places, etc. Dr. R agreed to order up some bloodwork, which resulted in my first diagnosis of PCOS. He based the diagnosis on an out-of-whack ratio of lutenizing hormone to follicle stimulating hormone, and said that since we weren't trying to start a family, the best course of action was to put me on The Pill which was something I wanted to start anyway.

(Man, can I just take a moment right here to say that we have come a long way when it comes to diagnosing and treating PCOS? It's amazing what happens in just a few years in the medical field.)  

I took The Pill faithfully and with few problems from 1999 until the early 2000s. AF was more hit than miss. I continued to see Dr. R for annual exams until I graduated from college and moved away from home in 2002. Stay tuned for my next post, where we'll resume the timeline in 2003.