Tag Archives: Uterine fibroids

Episode 9a—Bonus!  Perfect pad bags, praying the ‘broids away and finding connection

The best sanitary supply bags are hidden in plain sight…

Cute.  Jazzy.  Snazzy… with a little bit of flair or not—depends on what floats your boat and makes your heart sing.  Because your uterus isn’t singing during your period. It’s weeping blood.  

In this bonus episode of Planet Noun, Liz and her sister, Lea, pick up with their discussion about stuffing the perfect Pad Bag. That’s just another name for a to-go sanitary/feminine supply bag.

In a nutshell, here’s what you need:

  1. A cute bag.  Animal print is recommended, but whatever design or color makes your heart sing.
  2. A pack of pads in a size that suits your needs.  
  3. A pack of tampons that suit your needs.  For example, I’ve been trying organic tampons by L.
  4. A ‘backup to the backup’, is needed.  Back in the day, Le-Le and I used Depends, which are diapers for incontinent adults. There are other brands available as well.  A really good friend of mine recommends Always Discreet.
  5. Wet wipes, towels, soap, and “smell good.”
  6. A portable shower (kidding…but if you can swing this, we ain’t mat atcha!)
  7. Shoot, you might as well pack a doggone overnight bag.

From there, we also talk about praying the ‘Broids away, and whether we think that works…to how social media can be harnessed to find  connection with others grappling with uterine fibroids. 

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Bastards never come in human form…trust me

Dedicated to anyone who’s ever held a grudge against their uterus.

Fibroids ain’t nothin’ but a bunch of dirty bastards.

This ailment, this uterine scourge, these uterine fibroids have had me exhausted, tired, fed up and have pushed me over the brink to tears more than once.

Bastards.

Some women are blessed (?) to have only one fibroid. Blessed, I say. But that’s the perspective of a woman who grows them like womb weeds and has multiple surgeries under her belt (literally) and a surgeon’s designer scar to prove it.

At times, I’ve internally scoffed at women who tote around one bastard. Internally. It would be too insensitive to let that half laugh escape my lips.

Uterine fibroids are actually—BASTARDS. No daddy to know, no sperm involved. But somehow, they rise from the walls of countless uteri worldwide and can figuratively turn a woman’s baby incubator into ashes. Click To Tweet

“Once upon a time, I had 25 fibroids removed from my uterus in one surgery alone,” I find a way to slide in that factoid during fibroid-related conversations. Not as a bragging right. No-never. Brag for what? These monsters are for the birds. Actually, they’re so bad, I don’t even want actual nasty pigeons to deal with them.

“Wow” is usually the reaction I get to that factoid—or something in that neighborhood. No one could figure out where all the bastards all hid. But my hacksawn uterus knows. It’s hiding and growing a crapload more.

Bastards.

But then my internal scoffs turn into “Oh damn”s when the uni-broid women share tales of pain…They ask me how much pain I grapple with or what’s my go-to pill to ease the pangs…or how many hot water bottles or lavender-smelling microwaveable beady heat pillows I use for comfort.

Truth is…my bastards aren’t horribly painful most of the time. There’s pressure and some discomfort, but for me, it’s the bleeding that’s the beast.

Bastards.

Flow gushes.

Bastards.

Bathroom rushes to beat the leaks.

Bastards!

Passing clots the size of a quarter or silver dollar…and bigger—multiple times daily.

Bastards!

The exhaustion and toying with iron deficiency anemia.

Bastards!

Surgeries for relief.
Knowing the blobs will return with time.
Being told the only way out is a hysterectomy.

Bastards! Bastards! Bastards!

The heaving sobs and tears.
Bastards soak what they soak best…and tears stain my face, my pillow.
Whatever normal life I wanted…the Bastards wove their way in and tainted it with overstuffed pad bags, baby and other types of wipes, extra changes of underwear and a towels—just in case things get too messy for disposable wipes.

The literal bastards.

See, an old meaning of the word bastard—is a person born of two folks not married to each other. It’s, like, 1,000 years past old school meaning, and I reject the whole illegitimate child idea. ALL children are legitimate. They’re here, alive, breathing=legitimate. Daddy known or unknown=legitimate.

Uterine fibroids, on the other hand are actually—BASTARDS. There is no daddy to know, no sperm involved anywhere in the creation process. But somehow, they rise from the walls of countless uteri worldwide and can figuratively turn a woman’s baby incubator into ashes.

Bastards. All of them.

But women and uteri containing people…of all stripes, colors, and with all ailments—Still. We. Rise. Rolling with all sorts of punches.

Even from no-class, disrespectful bastards.

This post has been updated to include an audio version of this blog post.

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Episode 9: Uterine Fibroids—Disrespectful & monstrous body bastards

Meet my sister Lea. She tried to keep her mouth clean during this episode. So did I. She’s a hoot and a half…and my guest for this episode of Planet Noun….where it’s all about people, places, things, ideas.

So this time…. It’s a thing… well—depending on how bad you’ve got it, it’s a whole bunch of things….

It’s also about a place that all people encounter during life’s dawning days. The human uterus.

So it’s the last day of Uterine Fibroid Awareness Month… And Lea and I know about these benign tumors very well… They’ve been our fairly constant companion—for some YEARS now.

We want to be free of the monsters—that’s what she calls hers. But we’ve learned to live with them… Mostly in the shadows…mostly quiet about them. But we’re tired… Let me speak for myself…. I’m tired… woe’ out….and want freedom from the secret.

Hello there….My name is Liz… the host of Planet Noun…
And I have uterine fibroids that beat me up on occasion.

According to a National Institutes of Health fact sheet on Uterine Fibroids…
Most American women will get them sometime during life. They say one study showed by age 50…. 70 percent of white women and 80 percent of African-American women were graced with these bastards.

I saw one place that upped it to 90 percent for African American women…

My sister and I are NOT 50, and we have them. So we’re part of that number.

The fact sheet continues:
“In many cases, fibroids are believed not to cause symptoms, and in such cases women may be unaware they have them.”

We wish ours were docile. But nah, we’re all symptomatic all up in this joint.

This is a fragment of our story:

We’re also not alone in wanting freedom from these things.

From The National Uterine Fibroids Foundation to The White Dress Project
to the Fibroid Foundation… and also the doctors who are coming up with innovative, less invasive treatments…. There’s company on this journey.

Guest: Lea (with no ‘h’) Anderson—My lovely sister!

Hosted by: Liz Anderson

Links either referenced in this episode or for more information :

Fibroid fact sheet from the National Institutes of Health

The disturbing reason some African American patients may be undertreated for pain

Examining the Relationship Between Symptomatic Burden and Self-reported Productivity Losses Among Patients With Uterine Fibroids in the United States

A common problem few women want to talk about: Fibroids cause more than just pain

Related blog post:

 

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