When I was 14 the doctors put me on the pill. My period pain was so horrendous – that was presumed to be the balm. It was not. Because what followed was the most miserable eight months where I walked down the school corridors trying to manage teenage life while coping with a range of vile side effects. From bulging eyes to headaches to spotty skin – I was a joy.
Annoyingly I wasn’t successful in my chemical safari. And while the period pain stubbornly remained, it suddenly seemed better (even though it definitely wasn’t) but only by comparison to torrid my time as a lab rat.
The painful periods were actually a glaring sign of endometriosis but that wouldn’t be picked up for another 15 years, in my thirties, something I have written about at length in my book, Period. It’s About Bloody Time.
The reason I am sharing this? I thought I was no stranger to living life through a synthetic hormonal glaze. Oh and then I began two shifts of IVF and I became a total veteran on a whole other playing field.
I should add that I did in fact find a good pill in my twenties - which I munched through purple packet after purple packet. This discovery was both a blessing and curse – the former because it was giving me some relief from terrible periods but the latter because it was masking my disease – which would have been useful to know about, because accurate personal health information always is and especially when such insights have a bearing on time-sensitive decisions such as trying for a baby.
While the pill I eventually alighted upon was tolerable – I now realise that it still had unacceptable side effects – such as alcohol disagreeing with me (sorry to everyone who I boozed with between 2006-2016 – it wasn’t pretty) or headaches – which are luckily not a feature of my life without such pills.
This desire though to lessen my monthly pain and have reliable birth control led to me accepting an existence I now realise was sub-par at times – something men are yet to do. That is why there is still not a male contraceptive pill on the mass market. Trials start, male subjects experience horrible side effects and the experiment gets no further. Go figure. Again a phenomenon and story of medical sex disparity that I explore in my book. What women endure to be “free” is utterly extraordinary.
(I also know I have the menopause ahead of me - where I might also require hormonal assistance - but hopefully those drugs will help not hinder my daily existence).
Of course the irony of me being on the pill for a decade in my twenties trying desperately not to get pregnant is not lost on me when I consider the number of pills I am guzzling now in my next decade, my thirties, trying desperately to get pregnant.
But in that amazing sunlit land – after having my baby (post years of trying and IVF) and not trying again for a second (a theme to which I shall return because ‘not trying’ is amazing) – I chose not to go back on the pill for pain management. Personally I was done with living life behind a slight glaze; feeling chemically castrated.
And then I began what is now six rounds of IVF when our son was two. Chemical castration doesn’t even cover it.
I am not someone who seems to do well on this cocktail of fertility drugs. I don’t know if those women exist. One of my doctors made me feel like they did or that any “slight side effect” from the drugs could be solved by mainlining water. Well, I am here to call BS on that. Because from the very first injection in each cycle I feel unwell; less than and not like me. Yes, I can still function and go through life – but not as I fully am. And that’s what I wanted to share in this post and shine a light on: what it’s like to live on drugs that are not designed for living on. Not really, as yourself.
What a funny reality you enter – a twilight zone of oneself.
And yes of course you can tweak your fertility meds – but these tweaks are never done to make the patient, the woman, feel better. They are made to improve the odds of IVF working. Of course they are – that’s the goal. It’s a binary result: pregnant or not pregnant.
I look forward for the times between cycles – when I actually feel myself, re-emerge from behind the glaze. Yes I am sad. Bloody sad because it hasn’t worked. Again. But there is also a relief to meet myself and not some chemical avatar - who is close but not the real deal.
You also learn to game your reactions to things. And second guess whether you actually feel upset or irritated by something; or is that the drugs warping your feelings. It’s a knackering game of trying to maintain some semblance of normality; whatever that is.
Thankfully at times, I am still able to be myself on the IVF cocktail and react like I would and do to certain things. But the best analogy I can give, if you are the partner of someone, friend or loved one going through it and want to understand, is this: imagine eating your favourite food and it not tasting as good as you hoped. Even if you are hungry and it’s cooked exactly as you like it. It just doesn’t pop; or hit the spot. You know it ought to. You want to love it and feel about it how you do normally. And while it fills the hole and you enjoy it - you don’t bloody love it. And it’s that difference in reaction I am talking about. Well, for me anyway. Everything becomes a bit meh.
I know us ‘trying’ will end one day. I don’t know what or when that moment will be.
But I do know the one silver lining, however this cookie crumbles, will be end of living a life on drugs. (And in this post I haven’t even covered the physical side effects - the blueberry tummy from daily needles and whole-body soreness). And in turn heralding the return of myself and my actual reactions to things, not some muted version. Plus fish and chips will finally taste as bloody good as they are meant to -ideally by the seaside. And no, lashings of vinegar and a side pot curry sauce are non-negotiable. You can take the girl out of Manchester…
I had terrible endometriosis. Like you, I did not know for years that was the problem, or that most women did not suffer such pain. Menopause was a joy in comparison. Of course, I could not say much as obviously most people were suffering, but it was so easy for me. I hope you have the same experience.
I'm from Manchester too , have really bad period pains and found out when Ttc that I have a cyst on my overy my husband and I have been trying for 4 years now and have 2 failed cycles one IVF and one ICSI last one on March I went to work everyday while doing injections and not sure how I did it tbh. We are upset that they have not work and feel people that know don't understand how it feels to do treatment and have fertility problems we have a male factor problem.