The fantastic plastic, or Adventures of a retroverted uterus--female TMI, but amusing

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Well, I finally did it yesterday. I got a Mirena put in yesterday. It’s been something of an uphill battle, between a FP who won’t even consider IUD’s for women without kids, problems with the insurance company, and a veritable comedy of errors at the OB/GYN office. (I was going to have it done last month, but when I called to schedule the appointment, I found that they had neglected to get pre-approval from my insurance. Oh, and they’d forgotten to have my STD cultures done. The lab still had the samples, though, thank goodness.)

I went in on pretty short notice, but they were running half an hour late, so that gave my Alleve a little more time to kick in. So I finally get called back, go through the pee-in-a-cup, weigh in, get blood pressure song and dance that’s mandatory at all appointments with this group, and am at last escorted to a small, slightly stuffy room where I’m to take off my pants, drape a giant paper towel across my lap, and sit on something that suspiciously resembles the piddle pads we use for incontinent animals at the clinic. There I sit and wait and eyeball the box the Mirena comes in, wondering why, exactly, something the size of a hal-dollar needs a 2-foot-long box. How freaking long is that insertion apparatus, anyway?

Then the nurse-midwife who’s going to do my insertion comes in. After a bit of chat about typical responses to the Mirena, and whether I’ve read my little pamphlet, and whether I have any questions, she snaps on her gloves and gets down to business. She starts with that dreaded instrument of torture, the speculum. (I don’t care if it’s not as big around as a penis, I have yet to see a penis with edges.) The tenaculum bit was uncomfortable, but more startling than painful. Then she starts fishing around with the sound, and the real fun starts.

“Hmmm,” she says. Since my first ever gyno visit, I’ve been compiling a list of things I don’t like for people to say when their faces are in my crotch, and “hmmm” is right up there with “huh, that’s odd.” These are not happy utterances when the speaker is shoulder-deep in one’s vagina, trust me. (Yeah, sure, some of you will claim she couldn’t possibly have had her whole arm in there, but I know what I felt, and it was at least an arm. Possibly even her head and most of her torso.)

“Have you ever had any surgery on your cervix?” Umm, no. Why do you ask? Well, there’s some resistance there, possibly some scar tissue, or a fibroid. “When did you last give birth?” Umm, never, and I’m here to keep it that way. It’s right there on the front page of my chart, which I assume you at least glanced at. Please tell me you at least glanced at my chart. Please.

After further attempts to lure the wily and elusive cervix into opening just a wee bit, she calls for a dilator. This is exactly what it sounds like, but less pleasant than you’d imagine. After all this, she decides we need to double-check the position of the uterus with a lovely, fun-filled bimanual exam. Apparently, a lot of the problem is that my uterus is severely tilted backward, or retroverted.

Again with the damn speculum. Again with the very strong, rather warm light beating down on the metal and my butt. Then, the words I’ve always dreaded hearing in such a position: “I’m just going to get someone else in here to have a look.” So she disappears, along with the nurse or NA or whoever it is who stands there during the exam watching for funny business. She neglects, however, to remove the speculum or the aforementioned light.

I check my watch. They’ve been gone over five minutes. Man, I wish I could reach that rack of magazines. Ooh, what’s that weird feeling down there? It’s kind of…tingly, and numbish. Oh my God, my vagina’s falling asleep! They left the speculum in so long it’s cut off my cirulation! Oh my God, now what do I do? It’s not like I can just get up and stick my head out the door for some help. Oh, wait, she put some lidocaine gel on before she got started. That’s probably all it is.

Now there’s a new nurse-midwife in, along with the old one and her assistant. It’s beginning to get a bit crowded in here. Good thing the new one didn’t bring her person along, too. More poking, more prodding, yet another bimanual exam, and the insertion of the fifth or so speculum. Hmm, maybe the positioning would be better if she were laying flatter. Well, the exam bed’s against the wall. Well, we’ll just have to move things around so we can lower her head. Poke, poke, hmmm. “Honey, are you SURE you want to do this?” At this point, I just had to laugh.

After another disappearing act (leaving the frigging speculum in again, I might add, the original midwife comes back with not just a doctor, but my doctor. She does yet another bimanual, exclaims over just how retroverted I really am, and starts up the whole mess again. She finally manages to pass the dilator. Okay, now that hurts. A lot. Apparently, my doctor almost never actually does insertions, leaving them to the midwives. This means she’s getting a refresher course in how to do this while I’m laying there with a big metal tube stuffed up my cervix. And then the device decides to be contrary and not lock properly. It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much.

They finally got it in, along with funny warnings about not having sex for a few days (trust me, that’s not an issue) and the cramps haven’t been as bad as I was afraid they might be. They’re bad, but not as bad as the ones I used to get in high school that would nearly paralyze me. All the NSAID’s are rough on my stomach, though.

And I keep getting unilateral abdomenal pains that I know are gas, but this morbid little voice in the back of my mind keeps whispering, “It’s probably that IUD perforating your uterus and floating around in there. See! Gas doesn’t feel pointy and nubby like that!” I try to point out to the voice that I can feel the strings in my vagina, so I seriously doubt the thing’s managed to migrate north of my belly button, but the voice doesn’t listen to reason.

Oh, well, at least I got a great story and some pretty reliable birth control out of it.

2

Makes me glad my tubes are tied…

3

Ouch! My tubes will be tied after I have the boy in October. I’m pretty thankful about that with all the other birth control horror stories I’ve been reading here lately!

I must say though that I did get a few chuckles along the way in reading this… I especially liked your paragraph about things you don’t want to hear during the exam :slight_smile:

4

I have one of those retroverted uteruses, too. Had an IUD years ago (the first cycle they were available in the US – I’m glad they’re coming back), too, but didn’t have those insertion problems you did. Thank heaven.

Don’t you just love the way they poke things in you that hurt and then tell you to relax?

5

Finally, someone else with a uterus as strange as mine! My NP has to get down on her knees and twist her head up in an odd position to see my cervix during pelvics.

Thanks for such an amusing story and I hope you feel better soon.

6

Great googly moogly, it’s fun to be a girl!

7

Mama Tiger, did you get yours before or after you had kids? Apparently, that was another major factor in all the fishing around they had to do with me. If the cervix has never been dilated before, it’s much, much harder to open. This can make insertion in normally-positioned uteruses (uteri?) a pain in keister. Add in the positioning problems (apparently my uterus is practically sideways, it tilts so far), and you’ve got a five-minute procedure drug out for an hour.

On the upside, maybe I do have fibroids and can finally talk someone into spaying me when this thing wears out.

8

CrazyCatLady, your account sounded very similar to my last few GYN appointments! I’m with an HMO, it was my first visit to my newly assigned gynecologist, and she couldn’t get the speculum close enough to my cervix to get the culture for a pap smear. She tried -5- different speculums, all the while remarking that she could -see- the cervix, just not reach it. Oh, and she also told me that my labia was bigger on one side than the other–had I ever noticed that, she asked. Oh yeah, I thought, I take a hand mirror and check it every day… LOL what was up with that–has anyone else ever had that sort of comment?! With the fifth speculum, unfortunately some of my skin got caught in it when she was opening it up. That was the final straw. I had to re-schedule, for just a pap smear, with another gynocologist. When I saw him, he went in, got the pap smear, and I was out of the office in 15 minutes (believe me, that’s nearly record time for an HMO!). I’ve had several “inconclusive” pap smears over the years, and now I’m wondering if it was because the doctors never did actually get to the cervix. :frowning: BTW, the results of that pap were negative.

Unfortunately, as my Mom and an Aunt both had ovarian cancer, this means that I must be diligent in my GYN appointments in the future, and have trans-vaginal exams every year. I still dread the regular exams, though–especially the speculum-poking.

9

Oh, man, my knees are now clinging to each other for dear life.

I’ll just keep taking the cancer producing bc pill…or is it a good thing THIS week? I forget.

10

Oh, tarragon, she pointed out your uneven labia?! Oh, my. That’s going on the list of things I never want to hear a doctor say, for sure.
The list so far:

1.) Huh. That’s odd.

2.) Hmmm.

3). Oh, wow. I’ve never seen that before. (This usually means they’ve never seen that much pus drain out of something, they’ve never seen a hemmorrhoid that big, or something similarly unpleasant.)

4). That hurts? Really? ::poke, squeeze, prod::

5.) I’m just going to get someone else in to have a look at/ listen to this. (This starts the parade of nurses, med students, other patients, and cleaning staff.)

  1. Did you have a pimple or an infected hair here?

and now

  1. Were you aware that your labia are bigger on one side than on the other?
11

I’m going strictly by memory, but as I recall, the pill actually reduces your risk for certain types of cancer, including ovarian (since on the combo pill, you’re not supposed to ovulate) and endometrial (because you don’t have as much of a monthly endometrial proliferation). Though I think it can increase your risk of breast cancer.

My sources: my human sexuality text, and the info on my pills, both of which are at home (which I am not). As always, IANAD, and YMMV, especially depending on your genetics and the type of pill you take.

12

CrazyCatLady, I’d had one kid when I got my IUD. And that was back in the days when the IUD didn’t give you that shot of hormones, so my periods were MUCH worse. I was glad to get it out, and never wanted another one. This new one sounds much better. But I agree with you, that dilation thing is nasty. Even if you HAVE dilated before. I didn’t know how many pain nerves were associated with my cervix up till that point – I mean, during childbirth, cervical pain is the least of your worries!

You can add to your list of things you don’t want a doctor to say to you what the knee specialist said the other day after he moved my knee and it went CARUNNNCCCHHH!!, causing him to literally jump back in alarm: “What on earth was THAT?” (Followed closely by, “Didn’t it hurt? Are you SURE it didn’t hurt?”)

13

I swear one of the first things I’m doing when we move back to Australia is marching into an ob/gyn office and start the process of getting Essured.

And then Goo can get her free toaster :stuck_out_tongue:

14

MAN, am I glad I’m not a woman! All I have to look forward to is another six foot camera stuck up my butt when I’m fifty. Been there, done that, and it was a lot less uncomfortable than what you went threw. You’re a real trooper.

Just out of curiosity, though…isn’t it a bit of a health issue to be left with your cooter open like that for so long? I admit, aside from the fact I like them pressed up against my face, I don’t know all that much about the inner workings of the vagina, but it just doesn’t sound like a good thing.

Anyway, thanks for sharing, it was a wonderful story and really helped cheer me up from a bad day at the office. Glad to hear it’s over with, though.

15

This post was more than enough birth control for me.

No sex that can make babies from here on out. Not worth it! ::shudder shudder shudder::

16

You know how silly we think bloodletting and such was in the middle ages? I bet 500 years from now we’re going to look back on speculums and IUDs as just as barbaric and crude.

Jeeezus. THIS is the best semi-permanant female birth control we can come up with?? We need more female scientists, pronto.
-Ben

17

Well, Ben, as unpleasant as speculums are, there’s really not a better way to hold everything open so you can visually inspect the cervix and take samples. Unless you think we can come up with see-through coochies.

And the IUD is pretty effective birth control, and incredibly low-maintainance. Once the initial cramping stops, I shouldn’t have any problems, unless my body decides to push it out or it decides to migrate. Most people don’t even have any real problems with the insertion; I’m just not really the ideal candidate for this method.

And I’ll tell you, folks, strange as Tuesday was, I’m sure it beats the hell out of fiddling with diaphragms and condoms for the next five years. (That was my family practitioner’s suggestion when I told her I was unhappy with the failure rates and inconvenience of condoms; keep up with the condoms, but throw in another messy, inconvenient, not-terribly-effective method on top of it. Yeah, that’ll make sex more fun and spontaneous and worry-free. Really. :rolleyes: )

There’s a reason I went on and found a gyno instead of just getting my pelvics at my annual checkups like I had planned.

Oh, and Elvis, it’s pretty much open to the air anyway. I mean, it’s a hole after all. The speculum just jacks it open a little further. I suppose there’s the possibility of drying out, but as much lube as they’d been throwing around through all those exams, I don’t think that was an issue here. All the instruments were sterile, and they’d swabbed everything down with Betadine, too, so there’s pretty much zero chance of infection unless they tear something.

18

BAND NAME!

19

and remember…

What’s the definition of a “good day”?

Any day that you don’t hear “Please slide to the end of the table and put your feet in the stirrups.”

20

No thanks! I will stick to the Deprovera shots.

I hate the OB-GYN!!!