May 17, 2012

I'm a Cyst'a

For as long as I can remember, I have had cysts. I'm a cyst'y bitch all over.

I have polycystic ovaries.
I have fibrocystic breasts.
I have cystic acne.
And I have pelvic lymphocysts.

For most women, they will tell you that experiencing childbirth is when you lose all dignity - with your legs in the holsters and no less than 2 people looking up close and personal at your steaming snatch. And I ain't talking about ménage à trois here, people! In my case there were 7, but who's counting...

Well, for me it was a long, long time before that.

Let's completely ignore the fact that I had 12 interns present at my first pap smear at 14, all staring intently and taking notes as the chosen student proceeded to insert the vaginal retractor IN-COR-RECT-LY. Yes, that's right. I know you're all crossing your legs right now - and so you should. It was NOT a pleasant experience. Every time I've heard the line, "This is a teaching hospital" on shows like ER or Grey's Anatomy, I have done an involuntary Kegel. Fucking students.

So, indeed, let's all forget that.

But if it wasn't from that, then it would be from the two dozen times I have had a lymphocyst bordering dangerously close to my holy grail that was so painful that I couldn't walk. Then in 2006, one impacted so badly that I had to have an emergency operation... while my then current fiancé was back in Canada for a cousin's wedding. I had to call him from my cell phone on pain killers to tell him I was in the hospital. Plus, we didn't really know anyone well enough to call to help me in the UK, so I had to look up my neighbor's phone number and get his adult son's wife (that I barely knew) to come and drive me home after the surgery. It was a humbling experience, to say the least.

Try explaining THAT one to a bunch of nosy pupils that all wanted to know why I had been off school for 4 days and am now limping. Why, Miss, why, Miss, why, why, why?


(You must be shocked to know that that was my final year teaching. Uh huh.)

So I have done everything to try to help with these cysts. I've changed my clothing. My detergent. My soap. I've lost weight. I've gained weight. I've soaked in tubs with Epsom salts. I've seen dermatologists, homeopaths, plastic surgeons, you name it. Nothing has made them occur any less frequent.

I had a doctor recently nonchalantly tell me that all I would need to do was lose weight - because the old scaring that would indicate exactly how long I've had this issue was apparently irrelevant. So that doctor could take his 'professional opinion' and go eat a dick.

Thankfully, my husband is very understanding and is so used to my occasional giant band-aid that he barely even notices now. He's explained my condition in the most perfect way:

"It's not the cave that brings the real estate down, it's the neighbors."

If I ever find myself back in the dating game for whateverthefuck reason (I like to be prepared), I would most definitely have to add that to my profile description.

What's so fun about dignity anyway?


This post was inspired by the TMI chatter that I just love so much over on The Twitter -
with the lovely Momofthreeunderjlweinberg and kdwald.



  1. Oh, my love! It's just that you are so fabulous that your body keeps trying to make more of you in lovely cysts. Think of them as your terrible little cystas?

  2. I can totally relate to this. Once I went to hospital and the resident or intern I dont know literally used me as her punch pillow to practice her injection skills and I came home looking as if I spent a night in prison ward with lot of punches in my left arm.
    Not to gross you out, think about papsmear with hemorrhoids. Yep, I raised you Lady Estrogen, can you top that? And my request was to remove my husband from there :)

    And during my second pregnancy's threatened abortion at 19 weeks, during a long long weekend, again I became the guinea pig for couple of hungry residents who had only that weekend to experiment their surgical instruments on me. Not good times, not good times.

  3. As a man I've never had a pap smear but how hard could it possibly be for an intern to put it in the right hole?

  4. High five Cysta.
    I'm so sorry for all of this woe- it really isn't fair. I can't imagine having another one of these beauties- but a sneaky suspicion tells me I might have to wait too long. It seems as I age I am falling apart in time warp speed. Damn pregnancies is right.
    I feel for you and your lady bits. xoxxo.

  5. @Zombie

    Oh, right hole - wrong direction. It's always best to follow the tunnel and not bore new lanes.


    If my vagina was EVER going to make me a million bucks, this would surely be the ONLY way. Snort.

  6. Oh goodness gracious. I had ONE down there once and wanted to DIE! not comfortable and not pleasant. I went to the doctors bugging out but luckily it was NOT a teaching hospital. If it was was a chronic issue I'm pretty sure I'd lose my damned mind.

  7. If I go an entire month without getting one, it's a great month :/

  8. That pap smear description elicited a whimper from me. The stuff horror stories are made of *shudders*

  9. All I can remember about this blog post is "meat curtains." LOL! I can't wait to use that in a sentence today. In fact, I will make it my mission to use it in a sentence as soon as I absolutely can!

    Maybe I should order it in a restaurant and see what the server says...

  10. So not fun for you but telling a doc to go eat dick - priceless! You would think in the year 2012 there would be something, anything the medical field could do! And kudos to your hubby for being so understanding. I wish I could take those cysts away and all the crap that comes with it! My oldest is in med school. Maybe he'll turn out to be your cyst doc but please, don't tell him to eat dick. That would be my other son, the gay one. ;)

  11. I'm so glad that I could contribute to this most excellent of posts. Despite your inserted humor, I think it ought to be required reading for anyone going into Gynecology or medicine in general. And anyone associating with people who may one day grow something unwanted on her/his body. And people who feel it necessary to judge as to the reasons for a particular affliction.

    PS: I want to go back in time and stand behind your 14-year-old shoulder and snap my riding crop at the medical students who didn't think to say "Hey, you're doing it wrong." Do no harm, muthafockers.

  12. I had my meat curtains operated on. I'm still stuck on that line of the post.


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