It has been several months since I started keeping the calendar, that has been going great. Writing a journal however, I admit hasn’t been abided by. A few days after my cycle and only two days with an insomniac attack.
It is 3:17 am some day in March or April when I decide to stop forcing the sleep. Might as well use the time to write something down, I convince myself.
I have had bouts of insomnia before. Back then, I didn’t think much of it. I found it cool to keep up as late as I wanted and move on the next day as strong as those who had a dose of sleepy rest.
At this moment I am not thrilled. I am in fact, angry. Tossing and turning for hours on end, eyes closed, only to ‘wake up’ and realize you were not even asleep! Will this happen once more tomorrow and the day after?
In February, I failed to get my expected amount of menstruation and all red lights went up in my head. Am I already hitting menopause? Is this a warning sign of looming Anaemia? What is happening to my body?
The lecturers were yet to put down their tools when the pain hit. There I was sitting in class anxious and ready for my first Psychology of Gender introduction.
It started slowly. In under ten seconds, I was clutching my abdomen writhing in pain unsure where it was coming from. It was the strongest I have ever felt. It was like being twisted and punched at the same time.
Noticing my agony, a friend who has suffered Endometriosis offered me her pills and I walked, more of crawled out of class after swallowing them. I sat outside a while before deciding to summon strength and use the washroom.
Being that my cycle had a day or two to completion, I had a feeling I needed to strip in a fresh pad. All that pain I was sure would cause rivers to flow. Safety measures had to be put in place before flooding.
I pulled my button-down dress up, pulled down my pants and I was alarmed to see blank.The white lining wasn’t even coloured with a drop of the brownish-red liquid! I had substituted sanitary towels for panty liners due to the miniature amounts.
There was nothing to show for all that suffering. AT ALL!
Imagine working your butt off at the gym some days every week but after 5-6 months, when you step on the scale it reads the same. That disappointment is what clouded me in that small humbling room.
I called up a newly-made friend who was kind enough to escort me to the stage where I could get transport to go home. The pills had given me some peace, little did I know it was offering me consolation respite.
As soon as I got home, the pain came knocking and I was crouched up just wishing death. (If God was giving us what we wish for, I would be long dead.) Every time I get extreme cramps I ask Him for death as a getaway.
Holding my phone with the remaining energy I possessed from beating myself up, I hit up my medicine-studying friend and the ‘diagnosis’ offered left me more unease than settled.
“Rough sex. First semester of pregnancy. It could point to an underlying issue that could cause infertility.”
The infertility part obviously sent chills but as we continued, I felt the sex issue was being pushed more than it should have. Are you having sex? If yes, how much are you getting? That was not enough, the intensity was questioned as well (smashes head on a wall).
I ran to Google. Spotting, I typed. It indulged me stating all sorts of possible what-nots of the symptom. And so with every changing in the washroom during my remainder cycle time, I had an insane idea ticking itself.
I symbolized the strange occurrence on my calendar as dots instead of the lines I usually use (laughs).
When the day of my appointment with the gynaecologist finally came, I could not wait. I had endless questions about what had happened to my cycle. Was it lost somewhere in there?
I have never failed to get ‘adequate’ menstruation since my first encounter years ago. Why was this happening after such a long time of experiencing what had become normal?
When I arrived, she (I got a female gyna) picked me up from the reception and having met before we hit it off with ‘how you beens’. Then it was time to get to the core of my visit after weeks of trying to fit into her schedule.
I explained my situation and she assured me there was nothing to worry about. In fact I was lucky I was getting some. Most girls, she said tended to not get any indication of blood for months. This could be due to hormonal imbalance or stressful situations.
Being in campus, one is bound to get emotionally strained which affects some processes. She illustrated by drawing diagrams on paper as we discussed the female anatomy. Thank you Human Sexuality class!
There was no need to run tests on me. I relaxed. Soon, we were talking about boys, how they are and the lives they have destroyed. I left that office informed. Ladies, let’s keep track of our menses please.
I’m happy to report my cycle was back to normal as of March, the very next month. With occasional slips here and there, I’m back to sleeping soundly, without snoring of course.
Sometimes when we are most scared about a situation, it turns out that there is NOTHING to be troubled about.