For the first six months that I had my period, it was a
breeze. Sure, dealing with maxi pads and tampons was a bit awkward, but I was
young and eager to become a woman. I was so excited that I finally had my
period!
And then something changed. My period stopped being
something to look forward to, and started becoming the time of the month that I
dreaded the most. The magic was gone and my period became my worst enemy.
At 13 years old, I found myself curled up in a ball on the
floor of my dad’s studio apartment, my stomach hurting so intensely, I was
fairly certain I was dying. My dad and I were trying to watch a couple of
movies we’d rented, our weekend tradition, but I was in so much pain, I couldn’t
focus on them at all. I kept running to the bathroom hoping I could just push
the pain out, but to no avail.
At one critical moment when I was writhing on the floor in the
clutches of a particular difficult spasm, my dad astutely (and delicately) asked,
“Do you have your period?” I nodded at him, wondering what that had to do with
it. “You’re having menstrual cramps,” he explained.
We quickly got in the car and drove to Wegmans where my dad
won the Father of the Year award for buying me Midol, salt and vinegar chips, and
Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream. Since that time, my dad became my
hero and my uterus became my arch nemesis.
As I got older, my periods only strengthened their painful assault, and soon, my uterus convinced my ovaries to join in the fun. Why wait for menstruation to begin when you can cause cramping during ovulation, too?! And so, I learned what the German word mittelschmerz meant. Literally translated as “middle pain,” it’s the term used to refer to abdominal pain caused by mild cramping during ovulation.
As I approached my 30s, the pain during ovulation intensified
so much so that I found myself in the doctor’s office getting an endoscopic
ultrasound on a regular basis. The reason: large ovarian cysts. Many women have
these without any pain or issues at all, but not me. Anytime my female parts
have the opportunity to kick my ass (or more appropriately, my abdomen), they
immediately oblige. And of course, all of these complications bring with them
the persistent question: Can I even get pregnant? Are these all just signs of
infertility? Unfortunately, there’s no clear cut answer to this until you’ve
tried for awhile.
The good news is that my ovarian cysts seem to regularly dissolve
on their own, so no surgery has been necessary. The bad news? Aside from birth
control, which can help prevent the cysts from developing, there’s not much
else that can be done. And birth control isn’t really an option when you’re
trying to get pregnant.
As an alternative, I’ve been getting acupuncture treatments for
the past month or so as many family members and friends have spoken of their
success with it. Singapore is a great place to start trying acupuncture as it
is affordable (generally $30 SGD for a 30 minutes session) and there is a
plethora of Traditional Chinese MDs to choose from.
Interestingly enough, most Singaporeans that I’ve spoken
with don’t seem to buy into the idea that acupuncture can help with conception
(though they strongly believe yoga can). In fact, I’m convinced that the
Chinese doctor I’ve been seeing, who speaks little English, still thinks that I’m
asking for help with digestive issues. Regardless, I’ve definitely felt the
benefits of acupuncture in terms of general pain management and relaxation.
However, a word to the wise, no one ever mentioned to me how
painful and exhausting traditional Chinese acupuncture can be, so be prepared
and plan accordingly if you decide to try it out (Western acupuncture doesn’t
seem to be quite so intense).
