Prescription Validation

“I’m seeing black spots.” I knew my tone was casual.

“Do you need to lay down?” My coworker was concerned. 

I tried shaking my head, “I should be fine…” 

My dad was walking through with patient information and stopped short. “What’s going on?” 

I don’t remember it clearly after that point. I know he wheeled me to a patient’s room. My chair didn’t want to move over doorframes and I remember being ashamed that it was likely my weight making it difficult. I was embarrassed. We had an office full of patients. 

I began to dry heave. 

My coworker came in, asked again about the heavy period I’d been having. “And there’s no chance you’re pregnant?” “If I was, I don’t think I could be now.” “I hate to think miscarriage.” “I’ve been wondering that too.”

The words stung. My vision was still spotty. 

I was helped onto an exam table. 30 minutes later there was a wheelchair, my dad helping me into it, explaining my husband would be here soon and we were going to see the OBGYN that I’d made an appointment with when the fear of miscarriage made itself real a few days before. But since it was my dad calling, she found room for me immediately. 

My husband appeared. My dad left to care for the office. I stripped, and with a very thin paper covering me, I was prodded. The ultrasound tech was a kind woman. When I noticed odd images, she explained them away. She sounded confident and gentle, but I wondered if she was lying. I’d know soon enough. 

I wondered how anything could be wrong. I kept repeating that I was sure I just had the flu. I was embarrassed with all the trouble everyone had gone to. “Better safe than sorry” people kept saying. 

I was moved to the waiting room and then a new exam room. I was still woozy. Derek held my hand and helped support me when I needed it. 

The doctor was kind, smiling brightly, easy to talk to. We discussed my health history. She quickly pegged my period pain and weight gain to the mass amounts of hormones I’d been taking for birth control. “Did your other doctor tell you that amount of hormone can harm your body?”

“No, that wasn’t a conversation.”

She’d said I could try an IUD instead. I’d read that the arm implant was the most effective form of birth control. I already had an appointment to get it when my first husband, fiancé at the time, took advantage of me. I felt panicked for the implant. My fiancé was present with me at my appointment. He was already my husband then. In the bathroom at the appointment, they had a sharpie. “Mark here if you are scared or in any need of help at all. We will be discreet and you will be safe.” 

I wondered what that process looked like. The weight of the fallout of that choice felt too heavy. If I’m really scared, I could just break up with him, right? I’m getting the implant. I’m going to be safe now. He can’t get me pregnant. He said he’s getting help. 

I wondered what kind of place a woman would need to be in to make that mark. How could a doctor’s office really be any help at all? I’d have to go back to my life eventually. I married him. Marriage is forever. It’s been less than a month. Maybe I’m not scared, I’m just… uncomfortable. Marriage is about growth. My expectations are too high. No one could reach them, he’s said so many times. I’m the one who is impossible. 

I left the bathroom. I got the implant. And I proceeded to have the only period to compete with the one I’ve written about here. So, at that time, it was the worst I’d ever known. I couldn’t work. I clung to a heating pad, terrified of the size of the clots and the heaviness of the flow. 

My doctor prescribed an oral birth control. She suggested if a few months passed and I couldn’t withstand the periods with the implant, I consider an IUD. There’d be a wait time between removing the arm implant and placing the IUD. 

At the time, three things were occurring that made this feel impossible. 

First, one of my best friends had an IUD placed and she described pain that seemed unimaginable. Two months later, we discovered she had a rare infection that only effects 1-2% of people who get an IUD. But she had it, and she could have died. Thank God she made it. At the time though, she was the only person I’d known at the time of an IUD implant and it looked like hell. 

Second, my back was beginning to spasm. It was several months later that I learned this was due to stress from abuse. But at the time, I thought it was a fluke and I was learning my new husband was terrible at being there for me. There was no mercy for my pain. It was early days, but I begged for small kindnesses. “Please don’t stand over me and yell when I cannot get up.” Seeing my friend struggle so badly and need so much help with her IUD implant and seeing the lack of care my husband had? It scared me. 

Third, and most importantly, I’d begun to be shaken awake when he wanted sex. I didn’t feel confident that during the time between birth controls, I’d be protected. I was terrified I’d get pregnant. I couldn’t risk it. 

So, I kept the arm implant and used an oral supplement. 

After he left, I lost my insurance as I’d quit my job to move to care for him. I couldn’t afford anything new then, and I was ignorant of the effects the hormones were having on my body. 

I’d begun to gain weight. I lost some right after the divorce, but I gained it back plus some. Then some more. I struggled between many different health issues. In the winter after my marriage to my new, wonderful, kind husband; my body seemed to be struggling with hormones. I bled and crammed and the oral contraceptive didn’t do the trick to keep all the symptoms at bay. I stopped everything, had the implant removed, and have been birth control free since. 

Now, 6 months later, I’m half naked on a table with an OBGYN explaining that the hormones I had for years are still the cause of my struggles. The arm implants often causes weight gain, and double the amount of hormones with the oral contraceptives will definitely make my body struggle. It is also the reason for the visit today. 

I had a 6cm ovarian cyst burst. It was still leaking fluid in my abdomen and had been for a couple of days. It would continue for a few more. 

I felt tears. Fear. Something was really wrong after all. 

Cysts can be normal but the size of this one is likely due to a hormone imbalance from the birth control. The nausea and faint feeling is likely from the pain of the rupture and the trapped fluid. “Your body is not broken”. She said this several times. “Your body will continue to heal. You just have to be patient.” 

I had blood work done. My vitamin D levels are low. There are other things too, but we will discuss them in a follow up in about two weeks.  

I feel validated and angry and hopeful and scared. 

Every time I think I’m done being affected by my first marriage, there is an echo. I wish I’d marked the cup. I wish I’d found out what a doctor’s office could do. 

And I’m ashamed. I promised I wouldn’t let what others think make me scared again. And yet, I was in so much pain I was throwing up and passing out- all because I didn’t want to appear too weak to show up to work. I don’t want to be seen as a whiny, sickly person who can’t keep commitments. I’m cruel to myself in the name of trying to appear responsible and dependable. 

I stayed with my first husband partly because I was scared of what people would think. How much could commitment matter to me if I was willing to throw him under the bus and call him abusive when I knew I wasn’t perfect. I pushed his buttons. I made him angry. I asked for too much. And I’m not a small person, I don’t have to take the abuse. I could stand up for myself. But instead I’m thinking of running away? I’m a coward. Lazy. Irresponsible. Not a dependable person. 

I don’t know where I got that idea of myself… but it is there. There are seeds of goodness in it- wanting to uphold commitments. Wanting to show up. Wanting to be responsible and good. 

But at some point I think I gotta learn how to identify when I’ve crossed a line and put myself in danger. 

But maybe too that’s where having a village I can trust comes in. A dad who will wheel me into an ultrasound. A husband who will drop everything to be there for me. 

Maybe part of it is just trusting my village, and being honest with them. 

Because even as I write all of this I know I still had to take a pain pill today because I was in tears again. I’m going to try to go to work tomorrow but I know I may have to leave early. I hate that and I don’t know how to reconcile feeling crazy for going to work all last week, and feeling the pull to show up where I’m needed. 

I don’t know.