I wish I was dead
6 Mar 2007
Lois Parker shares her journey through mood swings and painful periods.
The thought signals the end of my one week of being myself, being a person that has a range of emotions, and that can be happy. Now I am back on the three to four week sequence of bloating, grumpiness, backache, cramps and bleeding. The bloating means that I no longer wear clothes with proper waistbands. When your stomach can grow six inches in half an hour waistbands don’t work. I’ve only small breasts, which is a relief, as even these have to be cradled when walking downstairs, trying to reduce the dragging bounce. I try a diuretic; the GP warns me that it is very powerful; he took one once and had to run to the toilet. They make a little difference.
The grumpiness is a constant. I have to work through it, try to be pleasant, be organized, run my business, love my husband. Occasionally I kick a door or slam my fist onto the desk when the computer misbehaves. My wrist hurts from the thump, a kitchen cupboard door splinters, but little other harm occurs.
The backache, the stomach ache, the bleeding. I sometimes sit on the toilet all night because it is the easiest way to deal with the blood clots. I am given mefanamic acid. Years later (from this website) I discover the way I am told to take them won’t help – I take them when I am bleeding; I should have taken them earlier in the month. The pills give me diarrhoea and nausea; I think I have food poisoning several months in a row. Finally I realize what the problem is and change the brand. I take codeine for the pain, and this fortunately gives me constipation, so that helps.
The GPs all suggest a hysterectomy. I explain that while the bleeding is bad it is not THE PROBLEM. Hating everything is the problem. I am given a low dose contraceptive pill. On this I bleed every day and nothing else improves. The GP seems uninterested. I go back on the usual combination of pills. Finally I am given a higher dose contraceptive pill. I feel better. I want to take it everyday. They say, no, I must take a break every three months (they would prefer every month). I can find no evidence that says it is necessary, but worry they’ll stop it if I don’t do as I am told. On the day I don’t take it I hate everyone I wish I was dead arrives by ten am. I try to time the break for when I don’t have to see anyone and stay huddled in the house. Gradually the self-loathing lifts, I can cope on the breaks. I bleed three weeks out of every four but I feel like myself.
Now I feel good. I am having fun. I stop the pill every month because I bleed for three weeks if I don’t. I think my own hormones are merrily giving me a full menstrual cycle even when I am taking the pill. I get sharp one-sided pain. I get a bit of bloating – I take my rings off, but I do wear jeans on the other days. I get grumpy, but oh so mildly! This must be what people normally mean when they talk of PMS. I start bleeding, so I stop the pill, bleed for five days, and then start the cycle again. The GPs don’t really like to give me the pill. I am old (46). They warn of increased risk of cancer. I say, better a few years happy than a long life of misery. They disapprove of my informed choice; do they think I will blame them later? As long as they let me continue that is alright.
I am a person again. I can be sad, I can be grumpy, but it is me doing it. It is related to events, or the weather, or a movie. I feel like a human again.
