Have you ever stumbled across something - a quote, a book, a person - that seemed to unlock something in your mind? I've had this experience with a number of books (mostly Paulo Coelho's books which I really should reread, now that I'm thinking about it) and certainly with a number of people who crossed my life at crucial intersections (I can't think of many things better than the discovery of a new friend, a person that you look at and say, "Wait. You, too?").
So, after a few months of floating in the darkness of women's health mysteries, it was like finding a life preserver in the middle of an ocean when I stumbled across a WebMD article about PCOS - PolyCystic Ovarian Syndrome. Like Gru from Despicable Me, I felt like saying, "Lightbulb!" Why didn't I think of this sooner? A decade ago, my family physician had thrown this acronym out casually while I was battling some cystic acne. However, I think I tended to ignore it because (a) he said this right after suggesting I go on Accutane, which I immediately refused to do and, thus, most likely tuned the rest of his monologue out; (b) he didn't seem overly concerned as I wasn't "obese"; and (c) I was 18 years old. C'mon. All I cared about was getting my acne under control for cosmetic reasons. So, I followed the advice of my dermatologist, got on some good ol' fashioned BCP ("birth control pills" for those who don't follow all the acronyms that fertility bloggers use on a regular basis - ha!) and never looked back.
I lived the next ten years in a joyous, hormone-balanced happy place. PMS? Thought it was something women made up when they couldn't deal with normal life. Weight gain? I battled the usual 5 - 10 pounds that I seem genetically predisposed to (Thanks, Mom, for those birthin' hips....Now why couldn't I get your ovaries?!) but as long as I was fairly conscious of my diet and exercised, I was just fine. Acne? I'd get my one good one a month. I could live with that. Menstrual cycles? I could set my clock by it. Life was grand.
And then, because you can't really conceive on them (hence the birth CONTROL title), I went off. Literally. Over the past six months, I have become an emotional roller coaster. The Great Bear at Hershey should have my image plastered on the front. My husband probably needs a support group. I have cried more in the past six months than I truly have cried in all my other nearly 30 years added together (and that even includes those teenage angst years when "My So-Called Life" was like an autobiography). Take today for example. Granted today is an emotional day for all Americans, but I have cried now at five different TV commercials airing between all the various sports that have been on our TV. If I were a man, surely my "man card" would be revoked for tears during not just one game, but several games.
Not only has my mind decided to start playing "light switch" with my moods (on/off/on/off/on/off, etc...), but my body has started to be taken over by some other being. Teenage acne? Back in full force (in the great irony of life, I can't take anything topical because it's all unhealthy if one should become pregnant). I've been getting exceptionally weak if I don't eat on a regular basis. Any weight gain? Thank God for lying, well-meaning friends and husbands but the scale doesn't lie (and neither do the pants!). Inexplicable, significant weight gain. I should start wearing stretchy pants to work, with a t-shirt indicating that I'm training for Sumo wrestling (so many of my friends are training for marathons/half-marathons, it only seems logical that I, too, should train for something!). And cycles? Uh, there is no rhythm to mine. My cycle is now like the White guy on the dance floor, thinking that he can keep up only to be always a beat off (or in my case, many beats off).
So, after thinking all these things were separate occurrences, I realized that they might all be different manifestations of the same beast: PCOS. It all suddenly makes great sense. I purchase one book and it's written for me; all these symptoms are calling my name. For years, I've been jokingly saying something is wrong with my hypothalamus (since I am always cold and always hungry). I might have been on to something all along! In classic Stef-nerd/OCPD-style, I don't just settle for one book about PCOS. I end up buying about ten books about it! Education is power, right? (I've always been a bigger fan of this rather than its cousin, "Ignorance is bliss.")
Of course, I haven't been officially diagnosed with it, as J. reminds me ("Uh, have you been going to night school to become a doctor recently?" he asks me). I have an appointment in October (Don't these doctor's offices understand that the clock is ticking with each passing day? Is there no sense of urgency? Okay, so perhaps they have a lot of frantic women calling them). Until then, I will become an educated patient on this "most-likely-but-not-guaranteed-to-be-mine" syndrome. Heaven help my Physician's Assistant when I see her. I might need to bring her some vodka. :P
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