Wed love for you to slough at least once every three months.
Words we dont like.
Aside from some frantic, post-appointment googling, Id mostly ignored the disease, parsing myamenorrheaas a convenience.
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Id never fully understood why, or bothered to look into it, until now.
The symptoms are variable and sometimes polar opposites.
It also has serious implications on fertility.
I remember hearing this news when I was 19 years old.
I was overweight, fairly hairy, and acne-riddled, which are all emblematic of the syndrome.
The nurse practitioner practically diagnosed me on sight once I mentioned the intermittency of my bleeding.
She recommended testing to confirm, but to me it was all but a foregone conclusion.
Having children would be difficult, she said, if not impossible.
Thecancerconversation wasnt the first time Ive been surprised by PCOS.
I was 22 and a junior in college.
My then-boyfriend, Paul, and I had just come back from a weekend trip to a theme park.
It wasnt a decision made in my brain, but by my body: I would sleep.
It was as if Id been commanded.
Ive always been a hypochondriac, but that level of exhaustion had me more than a little worried.
I had tests on hand.
Thats what happens when you routinely see six months between periods.
With my diagnosis in mind, Id begun to take that single pink line for granted.
I was at his parents house, alone, everyone else having already left for the day.
Staring at the striped towel slung over the bar across from me, Id already made my decision.
I hadnt even told him yet.
Otherwise, that lining sloughstheres that word againresulting in a period.
The endometrial lining can build and build, or never form at all.
I was terrified the whole time.
Would the sidewalk be lined with shrieking, sign-wielding protesters when we got there?
What exactly was twilight anesthetic, anyway?
Would it be enough?
It had already been so difficult to wait the week between the phone call and the procedure.
I just wanted to have it over with.
Luckily, the pathway to the front door of the nondescript office was deserted.
I dont even remember seeing other women in the waiting room.
Longer than youve been alive, he said.
We didnt talk after that.
In fact, thats the end of the event in my memory.
I know I felt pressure and I recall the sound of the vacuum, but everything else is gone.
A kind nurse, an older woman, stooped over me.
I know its hard, baby, she said.
But it wasnt the medication.
It wasnt the pain.
It wasnt even the sense of loss I still grapple with on a near-daily basis.
Sitting there, bleeding, I suddenly understood exactly how precarious my right to make this decision had been.
All the abstract political arguments Id had for years instantly crystallized into bright, painful reality.
Although I dont regret my decision, its never easy to think about.
Its easy to respond with anger to experiences such as mine.
Its galvanized my mission to eat well, be active, and feel good.
Fortunately, her warning has not yet come to pass, although I continue to expect the unexpected.
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