I promised in a previous post (see Thou Shalt Cook – A Debt-Free Commandment) that I’d provide more details on the nature of my diet and why I eat the way I do. Let me start by giving some background.
Attack of the Demon Fibroids
When I was about 29 years old, I was told that I had abnormal growths on my internal lady parts. With her finger in my vagina, my gynecologist asked me rather casually, “Anyone ever told you that you have fibroids?”
Ahhhh . . . nooooo.
Uterine fibroids are smooth muscle tumors – usually benign, non-cancerous – that grow in a woman’s uterus. They can grow in the lining of the uterus or be attached to the uterus by way of a stalk or stem. They can be small, like a pebble, or grow to the size of a grapefruit. Depending on their size and location, they can change the size, shape and position of the uterus. In extreme cases – medically described as a “giant” fibroid – a fibroid can be the size of a pumpkin and weigh over 25 pounds.
According to Our Bodies, Ourselves 2011, “about 30 percent of women get fibroids by age 35 and almost 80 percent of women will have fibroids by age 50.” Though most women will eventually have them, they are often non-problematic. To the extent that the fibroids don’t impact one’s menstruation, romantic life or quality of life, they’re pretty much a non-issue. For others, fibroids can cause heavy bleeding, pain during intercourse, and infertility.
I first heard about fibroids when I was 10 years old. I remember my mother telling me that she was diagnosed, while she was pregnant with my little brother. She didn’t do anything about hers. They didn’t give her any trouble.
I opted to not do anything about mine, either. As far as I could tell, they weren’t bothering me. Though I had always had terrible periods, I thought that’s just how my body was. As a teenager, I’d be paralyzed by menstrual cramps (yes, actually paralyzed in my seat, unable to move) every month. I also had a very heavy flow. Again, I assumed that this was just how periods went – or, at least, my period.
In my early 30s, the fibroids became a problem. By this time, intercourse started becoming noticeably more uncomfortable. Sometimes, it was flat out painful. Eventually, I could actually feel the tumors in my lower abdomen. On my left side, just above my bikini line, when I touched my stomach, I could feel a hard bump – a little hill in my belly. When looking at a profile of my body in the mirror, I could also see where my lower stomach protruded. It seemed that I had one particularly out of control fibroid. And it continued to grow.
When I was 32, the fibroids started affecting my bladder. I was waking up often during the night because my bladder simply couldn’t hold much. The fibroids had gotten so big that they were pressing on my bladder, decreasing the amount of space I had in there to contain my urine. At this point, these damned things were not only affecting my sex life, but also just my general quality of life. I couldn’t get a restful night’s sleep and I was spending too much time going to the bathroom. By this time, according to my doctor’s assessment of my ultrasounds results, my biggest fibroid was the size of a grapefruit. I’m not a big woman. I’m only 5 feet tall. At the time, I probably weighed 127 pounds. So a fruit-sized protrusion from my abdomen is noticeable.
In 2010, I opted to have an operation – a myomectomy. It is a major surgery in which the fibroids are cut out of the uterus, while keeping the uterus as intact as possible. A great thing about the surgery is that it removes the growths; a bad thing about the surgery is that it impacts the integrity of your uterus. Once a woman has a myomectomy, in the majority of instances, her gynecologist will warn her that she should not plan on delivering a baby vaginally after the procedure. The concern is that, with the uterus having been compromised through the surgery (and being cut in a number of places), the risk of her uterus rupturing during labor is greater than if the uterus had never been cut.
WARNING: MEDICALLY GRAPHIC IMAGES FOLLOW IN THIS POST
Generally, a woman at my age (32 at the time) who wants to have children should have a myomectomy with the aim of getting pregnant shortly after healing from the procedure. Though I had a boyfriend at the time, he was just a boyfriend – not a husband – so I had no pregnancy plans in mind.
What mattered most to me was my quality of life. I was tired of not being able to sleep through the night. I was tired of the extraordinary bleeding. From a vanity perspective, I was irritated that I had a pooch tummy, even though I was in good shape.
These Demon Fibroids Won’t Go Away!
About 4 years after my first myomectomy, I woke up one morning and couldn’t urinate. It was physically impossible for me. I began to panic. I was used to, at some points during the month, having to press a little on my lower abdomen to ensure that my bladder was empty. Eventually, that morning, I was finally able to use the restroom, but I knew that something was amiss.
I went to see a urologist and was told that, indeed, something was impacting my bladder function. The fibroids had returned. Apparently, it’s a very common occurrence. Depending on the woman, the myomectomy can turn out to be a temporary fix, not a permanent one. I didn’t realize that when I opted for the first surgery.
My periods got progressively worse. Over time, a big fibroid, in the same location as the previous mammoth one, was protruding from my stomach, making even the wearing of a seat belt an uncomfortable proposition. I was planning life activities around my period because there was always a risk that I would be bleeding all over the place. I was in constant fear of soiling my clothing or a car seat (which happened more than once; my poor boyfriend at the time was traumatized).
I was also in an extraordinary amount of pain every month. One day, I was working and the pain was so severe, that I literally crawled on the floor in the office to get to the bathroom. Pain medications weren’t working; the blood was excessive, and I was hating my body and my life. A male colleague of mine, who was working with me in the office at the time, was unwilling to let me drive home because I was in no condition to be coherent on the road.
This led to a second myomectomy – even though I had just had one only a handful of years earlier.
So, I have the scars of a woman who has had 2 C-sections, even though I’ve never had a baby.
Time for the Big “H”
Things were going well after my 2nd myomectomy . . . until they weren’t. Once again, the fibroids were back – noticeably back. I could see and feel them – again! My gynecologist said that, at this point, we ought to look into a hysterectomy as a next step.
As I sat in his office faced with the suggestion that I, a woman in her late 30s without children, completely eliminate the possibility of ever carrying a child, I wasn’t really open to his suggestion. Before I went to his office, I expected him to encourage a hysterectomy as a next move, but I wasn’t sure that I was ready to embrace it. Obviously, we needed a non-myomectomy solution because I had already had 2 of those surgeries for the same issue in a period of less than 5 years. It would be ridiculous to think that I could just keep having surgeries periodically to remedy the issue. So, here I was again, with a uterus full of these fucking demon fibroids trying to figure out what step to take. “You have a uterus that loves fibroids,” my gynecologist said. Apparently, I do.
I didn’t cry when I heard him mention the “H” word. Though I, intellectually, could fathom the idea that I might eventually have to have a hysterectomy, I wasn’t willing to tear out my uterus quite yet. Before taking that step, I wanted to be sure that I had done everything I could possibly do to fix the problem. Yes, I had already taken extreme measures by having 2 major surgeries, but, was there something else I could do? Anything? In response to my doctor’s recommendation, I was thinking, “Eh, I hear you, but I’m not quite ready to do that.”
[To be continued . . .]