The Author and Her Medieval Workhorse: A Journey of Resilience and Self-Acceptance
My mother always taught me that what isn’t pretty should be handled privately. It’s a lesson that has been passed down from generation to generation. But as I sit here, holding my “medieval workhorse,” also known as a Gellhorn pessary, I can’t help but feel the need to share my story. Because this is a journey of resilience and self-acceptance, and it’s one that I believe many women can relate to.
To put it bluntly, my organs are falling out. Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. The more accurate term is “descending.” But no matter how I frame it, the thought of my uterus, bladder, and rectum all trying to make a break for it is disconcerting. And yet, this is the reality that many women face after childbirth and as they age.
For me, the news of my prolapsed organs came as a surprise. Like many women, I had been struggling with “peezing” (a term coined by Liz Lemon from “30 Rock”) and other forms of mild stress incontinence for years. But as I entered my mid-40s, these problems intensified, along with a more troubling issue of not being able to completely empty my bowels.
After a thorough examination by a urogynecologist, I was diagnosed with pelvic organ prolapse (POP). This occurs when the muscles and connective tissue in the pelvic floor weaken or tear, causing the pelvic organs to descend into the vagina. It’s similar to a hernia, and women may feel or see tissue protruding from the vaginal opening as the condition progresses.
There are a variety of reasons why POP can occur, including muscle and nerve damage from childbirth, hormonal changes during menopause, chronic straining due to constipation, heavy lifting, and genetic predisposition. In my case, my doctor suggested that my constipation may be contributing to my prolapse, and recommended a procedure called a defecography to investigate further.
Now, let me tell you, a defecography is not as pleasant as it sounds. It involves ingesting a large amount of barium and inserting barium paste into the vagina. Then, while being watched by medical professionals, you are asked to defecate on command. It’s not exactly a comfortable experience, and I couldn’t help but feel humiliated and violated.
But I was determined to find out the cause of my issues and hopefully find a solution. And so, I braved through the test, only to be told that my uterus was descending and pinching off part of my rectum when I tried to empty my bowels. This was causing me to only partially evacuate, which explained my ongoing constipation.
My urogynecologist was elated to have found the cause of my problems and suggested a solution – a silicone device called a pessary. This device is designed to hold up the uterus and prevent it from pinching off the rectum. It sounded like a promising solution, and I was willing to try anything at this point.
But let me tell you, the insertion of the pessary was not a pleasant experience. It felt more like a painful shove than a gentle placement, and I was left feeling like I had a tampon stuck inside me. I was supposed to keep this device in for 2-3 weeks, but unfortunately, it didn’t make much of a difference in my symptoms.
My urogynecologist then suggested surgery as a possible solution, but she wanted my input on the matter. Part of me was frustrated – why was I being asked to make this decision when my doctor was supposed to be the expert? But another part of me appreciated being included in the decision-making process.
In the end, I decided to take some time to think about it. And that’s where I am now – in between. In the midst of a journey that is still ongoing, with no clear resolution in sight. But I am not alone in this. We are all in between at some point in our lives, waiting for change and searching for answers.
But as I navigate through this journey, one thing is for sure – I am done with pretty and private. I am done with the societal expectation that women’s bodies should remain unchanged, regardless of the trauma they have endured. I am done
