Sometimes, you just have to rant.
Nearly seven years ago was the first likely encounter with Mr. Dermoid Cyst. After six months of mid-cycle pain and a palpable mass in the area of my left ovary, my doctor ordered an ultrasound which showed nothing. She handed me off to a male gynecologist who brushed the whole thing off as typical ovulation pain and/or a hypochondriac manifestation of my recent bout with depression.
The nurses I worked with at the medical manufacturer saw red flags all over the place and urged me to seek out a second opinion. Another co-worker offered the name of her female gynecologist who had helped her through a difficult situation. Being young and stupid, I did nothing.
I listened to that male gynecologist and his opinions of the situation. For seven years. Mid-cycle pain arriving so that I could time the arrival of my period. Mid-cycle pain that no over-the-counter medication could touch. I thought it was normal because no subsequent doctor or nurse practitioner seemed concerned, though any intimate female conversation with friends indicated otherwise. No other woman I encountered thought it was normal.
So, finally, I decided 2009 would be the year I’d seek out a gynecologist to have this resolved. Becoming an empowered patient was a trait I’d developed since being diagnosed with type 2 diabetes after all. I wasn’t due for my annual exam until the end of the year, so I had time to find someone to fit my needs – female, attentive to pelvic pain issues. Or so I thought.
Hindsight is 20/20, my motto of the week.
The best things I can do are get my blood sugar under control, get my body back into shape, get my mind in the right place before surgery #2 with the right gynecologist.