Translated material
My menstruation tried to kill me
24-year-old Nina (we do not indicate the last name at the request of the heroine) from St. Petersburg from childhood suffered from heavy menstruation: there was not enough gaskets even for half an hour, to get out of the house to the store was tormented, not to mention the trip to school through the whole city. Once, as always, Nina's abundant menstruation did not end when they should have been, but turned into protracted bleeding: she lost consciousness twice and almost died of blood loss. She told the cold her story.
I had to do blood transfusion. Doctors do not know what's wrong with me
"I built a route by the number of gaskets"
My menstruation began at 12 years old. I waited for them: they seemed something cool, which happens in adults. When I was 10 years old, in conversations with my girlfriends, I even instructed that I already have menstruation.
When they started for the first time, I was at home. Mom and dad congratulated me: “You are a woman,” - all that. But soon it turned out: menstruation is so plentiful that I don’t have enough gaskets that my parents gave me.
I did not tell anyone about this. It was a shame - and there was a feeling that I myself should cope with this. I had pocket money, and I began to buy a pack of myself, through trial and mistakes, having figured out what I needed. The menstruation lasted seven days, and the first four days I wore only the night laying of Libresse - they turned out to be the largest and most thick. Two packs of such gaskets for menstruation went for sure.
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Later, when my mother realized how abundant my period, she gave me tampons - but did not explain how to use them. She said only something like "look there yourself, it should not be painful." I tried - nothing came out for me. I still can’t use neither tampons nor menstrual bowls: it doesn’t fit in my head, as in other girls they fit there.
There was so much blood during menstruation that leaving the house was torment. If I went to the store, which was 15 minutes from the house, then I needed to look for a toilet there to change the gasket.
I did not want to go to school these days, but I had to: my parents, it seems, did not even understand how I feel. I remember that during my first in my life, I sat in the school toilet and scrolled in my head: “So, I’ll go to class now, I’ll sit there, I’ll probably sit the second lesson, and then I will need to run to the toilet again. And after the lessons to the toilet - and immediately home, otherwise a leak. "
I constantly built clear, minute routes. It became almost a neurotic with this. I always left the house, looked at the number of gaskets and calculated how much I needed: "These gaskets - I will sit at school, these - I will be in a cafe, it seems that six should be enough." I take with a margin and go clearly along the route.
Sometimes I drove somewhere, took 30 minutes after leaving the house, and I knew that it was another hour to go, and I walked somewhere in advance to change the gasket before the watch crossing. This reached something unhealthy: I only had thoughts about it in my head.
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I used to go and feel: something is wrong. And you do not always understand what exactly is happening in shorts: the gasket is just a little overflowing or there is already bloody mess and everything flows on jeans. And I immediately thought about which cafe I could go, where they would let me into the toilet.
Once, I remember, I went into the coffee shop, and they told me: “You just can’t go to the toilet, you need to buy something.” And that day I had no money with me. I had to tell the barista - thank God, it was a girl - that I had menstruation. She snorted, but let me in. I was a very shy child, but the understanding that the excess could happen was so scared that I was not afraid to ask for the toilet.
I see the toilet, I see the goal - I go to it. One fear outweighed another.
At school, I was also forced to constantly run to the toilet - every change. It was ashamed: everyone noticed it. In the toilet between the lessons, junctures were hanging out. I remember how I once again went into the booth, and these girls laughed maliciously at me. I went out and said: “Girls, do you have menstruation at all? Grow - understand. ”
During menstruation, I was in such a great stress that I drove comforting reminders for every day on the calendar on my phone : “It will end in six days”, “It will end in five days” ... so that they pop up every day and supported me: “This is not forever, everything is fine, you can handle it.”
"He is a man, men are characterized by men"
I tried to make sure that in the family during menstruation they treated me with great understanding: I asked me to stay at home and not go to school, not to go shopping. But it turned out badly, especially understanding was not on the part of the pope. When I told him that I could not do something, because I have menstruation, he usually answered: “I have a woman to cope with everything at work-and you can handle it.”
To the school, which was at the other end of the city, parents drove us and my sisters (I have two younger sisters) by car. Once I quarreled with my dad-it seemed to him that I behaved somehow incorrectly-and he said: “Well, then you will go to school myself.” And for this period of my punishment, it was just menstruation. By public transport - by bus and metro - the road took an hour and a half. It was simply unrealistic for me, I would have flowed. I told dad that I could not go to school during menstruation, but he reacted as always: "What are you talking about at all."
At that time, my mother took me to school: she always had more pity and understanding. But we did it secretly from the father: he should not know that I escaped his punishment.
Dad could not understand in any way that I had moments when he was about to flow in the legs with streams.
Sometimes I had to say in open text that I just now need to run to the toilet. And he was offended that I did not listen to him, for example, and ran away in the middle of the conversation - he believed that I was showing disrespect for him.
A typical situation: we came home from the store together, and I immediately went to the toilet. She did not help him convey bags, did not hang the jacket as it should, did not put the shoes carefully. I leave the toilet and understand that dad, like an adult child, is offended that I do not respect him. And after an educational conversation, I say: "Well, I have menstruation, I have menstruation, I have menstruation." And he: “What are the menstruation? This is not an excuse, not an argument. ”
For some reason, although I was a child, I realized that it was something wrong with my dad, and not with me. But at the same time, I did not have a way to get out of this situation. Talking about this further, to continue to explain something about menstruation is a shame. And it remained only to listen to my father's educational monologue. Because if menstruation is not an argument, then there are no more arguments. This means that I really acted poorly, I reacted without respect for it.
Once my family and I were on vacation in Israel, lived in the same hotel room. My periods were on this vacation. Usually at night I woke up several times and changed the gasket, and put a towel under me, and despite this, it still constantly flowed during sleep. And in the morning, as soon as she woke up, she immediately went to the toilet very quickly.
And during the vacation I got up in the morning - and the toilet was busy. It was a disaster: I stood and felt that it was already flowing for me. I looked at myself down - and streams on the legs. And then dad comes out of the toilet. He went out, said nothing and just left. I did not try to help. He called my mother. She removed me in the corridor. It was so ashamed - but, probably, it would be even more embarrassing if dad had not ignored me, but would try to help me himself.
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Father's mother had the same attitude. Every time my mother was in stress and was angry, he said: "If you have PMS , then do not come to me, you are sick now." It was hard for her mother, of course, with this-but she said something like: "He is a man, men are characterized by men."
I grew up, observing such a paternal attitude to female hormones, to monthly. I looked at it - and I was disgusting. I thought: even if a woman really has premenstrual syndrome and a bad mood, what's the difference? She hurts, she has stress. Why create an additional conflict with this neglect? You can regret a loved one.
I understood that dad is wrong and that when I grow up, I would live differently.
"The girl is completely ku-ku, causes an ambulance because of menstruation"
At first my period was irregular. The first six years - until I turned 18 - they walked every six months. My mother and I were examined three times with the doctors, but everyone just shrugged.
The examinations were unpleasant. One of the gynecologists told me: “Do you understand that you have obesity? This affects the cycle. " I was just a full -minded child, but not so thick as to call it obesity - I then studied this issue - but in any case, the teenager is unpleasant to hear this.
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I was scared that because of these problems with the cycle I could not get pregnant. I knew that I want to give birth to a child when I grow up, and I thought: since I have such problems, maybe I'm generally barren? It tormented me - but my mother did not talk to me about it. There was no such thing in the family that talking about sex and menstruation was a “fu”, but there was some kind of silent taboo.
With age, the cycle has become more regular, and for the last two years, menstruation has occurred about once every two months. When I matured, I began to rejoice at the monthly: I realized that their presence is an indicator that I am healthy, that I will have children when I want ( the anomalies of the menstrual cycle themselves do not mean infertility, but the normal menstrual cycle is not an absolute indicator of reproductive health. - approx. “Cold” ). With age, I had more power over my life, and I was able not to go to work in the days of heavy menstruation. I did not copy the attitude of my father to myself - on the contrary: I began to treat myself with caution, more often regret myself.
But last year something unusual happened: the menstruation ended, and the new ones did not begin for three whole months. And then they started - and did not end for a month. At first, a couple of weeks were smeared discharge, and then became more intense. And for another 10 days they walked from a bucket - stronger than what I had all my life. I gripped, did not act very correctly in relation to myself. I thought that everything would pass. But real bleeding began.
I sat on the toilet - and the fountain beat me.
There was such a sound, as if a liter of water was poured into a container. And together with blood came the clots of the endometrium. They were the size of a fist.
I signed up for a doctor. And on the night, when I had to go to the clinic, I fainted twice. I woke up on the toilet floor with a huge bump on my head. I saw that I broke my head the rim of the toilet. I don’t know how much I lay so unconscious. Then I lived in Athens, in Greece - I moved there to study at 22 years old - and I had no one there, I lived alone.
After a while, I lost consciousness again. This happened to me for the first time in my life. Most likely, by that time I lost a lot of blood. Getting up after the second fainting, I lay down in the bed and began to pray, because I thought I was dying.
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I lay like this all night, and in the morning I went by taxi to the doctor. She led me to the ultrasound. And I do not like gynecologists: it hurts me when they check me. She is trying to conduct an inspection - but I can’t stand it, scream. The doctor - it is Russian -speaking - pulls out a huge piece of endometrium from me and says: “Do you see what comes of you?! And I can't see you, you are screaming! "
The doctor prescribed me the progesterone tablets and said that if the bleeding does not stop within a week, it would be necessary to do the operation: as during an abortion - curettage of the endometrium . She also ordered to drink iron in tablets and there are many iron -containing foods.
I arrived home. I lay all the time - I got up, just to cook for myself to eat. I remember how I cooked a lentil soup with meat - it has a lot of iron - and barely stood on my feet. Every time I got up, it flowed out of me. It was very scary.
When five days later I called the doctor with the news that my bleeding is still strong, she said that she was scared for my life. And what if at night I lose consciousness from blood loss, no one will help me even. She told me to call an ambulance.
I called an ambulance. It was necessary to communicate with paramedics in English. They asked what's wrong with me. And I say: “Period. A LOT of Blood ( “Monthly, a lot of blood.” - approx. “Cold” ). They did not immediately understand me. They had a type-like: "The girl is completely ku-ku, causes an ambulance because of menstruation." I repeat to them: “A LOT of Blood”, a lot of blood.
I was brought to a gynecological hospital. And again the same thing: doctors meet me, I explain that menstruation and a lot of blood. They relaxed me from one chair to another, from one chamber to another: "Here, sign, here you give an analysis."
And then, when they saw the results of my blood test, they immediately slept smiles from their faces. They brought a reciprocal chair and no longer allowed me to get up from it. It was funny to observe this change.
"Why couldn't you regret me?"
Doctors said that I urgently need to do blood transfusion - and as soon as the level of hemoglobin is restored, they will take me to the operating room. They said: "Of course, you can refuse the operation - but you can die."
During the night, two packages of blood were poured into me, in the morning they made a curettage, and then they poured blood again. I lay in the hospital for two days, and the bleeding ended.
All this time I was for some reason completely calm. The only point when I broke through is when the doctors asked if there is anyone who can come to me now or in the morning. Then I began to cry, because I was alone in Athens, I had no one.
Having recovered after that, I went to the gynecologist again to find out what happened to me and how not to allow it to happen again. I took tests for all hormones. It turned out that absolutely all indicators are normal. The doctor could not find the reason for the incident. She suspected me with endometriosis - but even this diagnosis could not be confirmed or excluded.
For what reason I almost died - it is incomprehensible.
Apparently, the doctors do not have enough examination, there are not enough studies of the female body. No one can understand what's wrong with me.
The doctor prescribed oral contraceptives to me to artificially adjust the menstrual cycle. Now for the first time in my life I have monthly regular ones, once a month - and not as abundant as before.
Recently I returned to Russia and wanted to go through an examination again. But the gynecologist said that while I take contraceptives, it makes no sense to be examined: drugs create an artificial hormonal background for me. And if I have a tear from contraceptives, I will go through an examination, and then I climb them again - this is too much stress for the body. So I am sitting on tablets and still do not know what's wrong with me.
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Throughout the critical period - when my bleeding did not stop and I got to the hospital - I was in touch with my mother. I did not talk to my father about what happened. A few years ago-at the same time, when I left to live in Greece-because of how toxic my dad was, I broke off relations with him, and now we do not communicate.
To be honest, there is a lot of resentment in me because he treated me and my menstruation in childhood. I would like to convey to him that his approach: “No concessions only because you are a girl and a teenager”-was wrong, incorrect. It oppresses me - and often I want to tell him: "Why couldn't you regret me?"
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Author: editors of the "cold" photo: Ruben Bonilla Gonzalo / Getty images