dealing with pain and dysfunction

The Malevolent Vag Goes to India

I returned earlier this week from a school trip to India.  It was an amazing trip and I learned a lot, but this space is to tell you all about the adventures of my dysfunctional bits, so, onward!

My group spent the first night at a “guest house” in Auroville, India, near Pondicherry.  The guest house was beautiful, but the name is a bit misleading.  It was more like… rustic cabins in the woods, and with shared bathrooms.  When we arrived (around 2:00 a.m. after an extremely long period of traveling) we were told that there was one bathroom for the 12 of us, plus the other guests.  I went to check it out, as my picky vag is difficult to bring along on camping trips, and to my dismay the guest house bathroom featured a Turkish toilet.  While I’m pretty capable of roughing it in a lot of ways, the whole peeing thing is always a major issue and the squatty potty wasn’t gonna cut it.  A lot of my pain is caused by overly tense pelvic floor muscles, and squatting, combined with the fear of peeing all over the ONE pair of pants that I brought on the two week trip was officially Not Okay.  Luckily (?) my roommate threw a shitfit, as she is not at all capable of roughing it, so we were moved the next night and the rest of the class came to join us later.  I had to use the Turkish toilets twice during the trip, and each time I had a few muscle spasms for the rest of the day.  That’s not easy to deal with during a class trip.  I don’t usually tell anyone about the spasms anyways, because there’s nothing to be done about them and nobody wants to hear it anyway.  It makes walking quite difficult though, as the pain shoots down my legs and sometimes stays in my lower back for awhile.  Unfortunately, it was revealed after we moved that there were bathrooms all over the place and some had Western style toilets that I could have used.  My roommate would have none of it, anyway, but I really would have liked to stay at the guest house for the whole trip.

The wacky period-month continued for the first part of the trip, but stopped after a few days.  I thought that after literally WEEKS of bleeding that I would be done, but that wasn’t the case.  While visiting the temple at Chidambaram (where Shiva danced the world into creation), I started back up again.  Of course I didn’t have my cup on me during our day trip after I had stopped bleeding, so I managed to fashion something out of Kleenex for the day.  Once again, I don’t use commercial pads or tampons because the bleach and chemicals damage my stupid-delicate-flower skin, so of course I was an itchy mess for a little while following the Kleenex incident.  Plus… I only brought one pair of pants in a concerted effort to pack lightly.  Because there’s clearly something wrong with my menstrual “cycle” (I use the term loosely as there seems to be no cyclical pattern whatsoever lately), I also managed to overflow my cup a few times a day.  If you’ve never used a menstrual cup, I’ll tell you right now that it’s pretty ridiculous to be able to do that.  If it didn’t suck so bad and mean that something’s probably wrong with me, I’d be kinda impressed with myself.  To add to the discomfort, I tried to empty my cup in this tiny bathroom at this weird-ass truckstop restaurant that we were taken to during the trip.  Because I’m the clumsiest person I know, I managed to get blood all over myself, my underwear, and the floor.  But only a little tiny bit on my one pair of pants!  I didn’t notice it until a few days later though.  This post makes me sound gross.

Because my period was so irregular and stop-starting, every few days was like the horrendous second-day-period.  The worst possible cramps, backache, kicked-in-the-crotch-achiness, and the whole deal.  I brought the bottle of painkillers that I was prescribed at my last specialist visit just in case.  I took a couple of them the weekend that I got them, while I was visiting NYC.  My stomach was killing me that weekend, but I figured it was stress or something I ate.  Obviously it couldn’t be the pills, because I specifically said that I needed something that wouldn’t hurt my stomach–not like aspirin or ibuprofen, which absolutely kill me.  So I wanted to take some in India, and my roomie asked what they had given me, as she also can’t take ibuprofen.  I said I didn’t know, I didn’t really think to check because I just needed to take *something* safe, so I had just been popping them without looking.  So I look at the label, and it’s just something really generic, just white tablets with IBU 600 printed on them.  Hmm… IBU, IBU… what could that be?  And then it clicked.  THEY FUCKING GAVE ME 600mg OF IBUPROFEN.  It took me awhile to figure out, because, hey, that would literally be the stupidest possible thing to give to someone who asked for a painkiller other than ibuprofen.

In conclusion, I need a new specialist.  I decided a long time ago that I’m not going to fuck with any doctors who can’t manage basic listening skills.

So now I have no painkillers, but hopefully soon I’ll have no periods (or at least better periods).  This morning, I got Implanon placed into my left arm!  I’ll make another entry all about Implanon as soon as I have time.  Have a lovely weekend, dear readers.


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  1. * Esther says:

    Not gross! I always wondered how public-restroom cup emptying goes. They should make little valves on those things, so you can just drain it out into the toilet without removing it.

    Posted 9 years ago
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