They don't mix. Simply. If only that were to be the end of my rant.
So, 2011 sucked in terms of my health, though in reality, the problems started at my conception, but they aren't the 'kid who never did recess' kind of health problems. I have Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) and have all my life. It's just a fact. This isn't going to be a rant about PCOS because I'm sure there are hundreds of thousands of rants about it on the internet as it is one of the most frustrating non deadly issues out there. Summation: every woman diagnosed with PCOS has some sort of imbalance in all of their sex hormones, and PCOS is just the catch all for everyone who fits in this category, not necessarily if they have cysts or not. My particularly fun set of out of whack hormones make me infertile, a fact I've known for 6 years now, since I was sixteen. It's a fact of life that I long since decided would be easier to deal with if I came to terms with it sooner than later. These are the hormones directly associated with ovulation. This is important, remember that. I constantly get cysts on my ovaries now, and they burst every few months. I imagine that what I feel from them bursting is akin to what a guy feels getting kicked in the nuts. I get them mostly on my left ovary, mostly.
In fall 2010 is actually when the mess started but I didn't know it at the time. I was starting to get tired easier, and sleeping more, which as a life long insomniac was kind of weird. I am in marching band, and it got to a point halfway through the season that I realized I could either play my music or march, not both at the same time because I would get weak and start to black out. But being the stubborn f-ing idiot that I am, I just kept on chuggin'. I did eventually decide that a doctor visit was necessary. It was a known fact that multiple people in the band had mono and I seemed to fit that symptom description. But the test came back negative. So the crappy ass clinic I had been going to did a blood panel to get a slight clue and found that my thyroid hormones were first, too high, then, too low. Happily they sent me home with the declaration that it was hypothyroidism and I'll just have to get used to feeling like death every few months and possibly having to drop out of college because I can't stop sleeping for 18 hours a day in the same position the entire time and falling asleep in class and in my car while driving! Yay!
But that didn't sit right with me. I wondered why I'd never had a single worry with my thyroid before. Why it was so odd to me to hear. So I did what any good hypochondriac does these days and googled "rare causes for hypothyroidism" because I'm Allie Reynolds, damnit, and it it's in my life that's the only way to look for it. I found a link between hypothyroidism and ovarian cysts, and would you know it, there's actually a type of ovarian cysts that causes hypothyroid like conditions in a person who only has the cyst, not the thyroid condition. Fun fun. When I made the case to the docs I was seeing that it just didn't sound right to me and explained why (unfortunately, I was still trying to track down my previous medical records, so I couldn't have them just look at all the blood work from my teen years) they just ignored me. Even tried to say I didn't have PCOS, because I guess growing chest hair is just something my body does on the weekends for fun, along with cramping so hard I black out. But I was persistent, and they eventually I was given a referral for a pelvic ultrasound by a doc who was pretty convinced they weren't going to find anything. But lo and behold, a 1 inch cyst on my left ovary was just the BIGGEST of the multiple cysts on both of my ovaries. The Technician, a girl who ironically ACTUALLY had the hypothyroid condition I was being told I had, was great and we compared our symptoms and agreed that it didn't make very much sense that I also had the same hypothyroid issue. At the end of an appointment in which she spent more time highlighting the sheer number of cysts than anything else, the Technician told me that, while she was no official on the matter, my doctors should get back to me by that Friday, a mere two days from then. But nothing. Then the next Monday that major cyst popped. It was the most painful one to have popped in my life thus far. Still no phone call a week after the appointment. Finally that next Friday I called the doc office and got handed off to a nurse I'd never met who had to go find the file. The doc wrote to tell me to go to the ER in the event that that large cyst popped....Way to fucking disseminate information. I never bothered to go in to an ER. I was so angry, upset, and terrified.
The final Doc I saw at my previous clinic said, verbatim "I've seen women with strumii cysts and you are just not fidgety enough for them." And dismissed me. Fidgety? Are you fucking kidding me? She told me that while literally my entire body was trembling while I tried to stay calm while talking to her. She wouldn't have it. So I left, trying not to cry and scream and throw a tantrum. And called my healthcare to switch to a new clinic. After of course, first calling my mother who had pioneered the PCOS battle for all of the women in my family.
About 2 months later I finally saw a new doctor, at a new clinic, across town. I was hesitant because I was afraid that I wouldn't be taken seriously, partially because of my young age (21 at the time), despite having this doctor recommended to me by a close family friend who also had severe hormone related issues in her twenties. The appointment started off with the New Doc asking me about my life, and why I had switched to her clinic. And then she listened. I calmed down as I explained what had happened, how it had affected my sleep schedule, my health, and my life. She just listened; listened as I described the previous clinic not even bothering to tell me that my cyst popping was worthy of an ER visit until 5 days to late; listened as I rationalized my symptoms against both the typical symptoms associated with hypothyroidism and these rarer types of cysts; listened as I described a gradual lessening in severity of my symptoms after the big cyst popped. And when I was done she said "Well, it makes sense to me. Now what do you want to do about it?" We went on to discuss my various failures on several different brands of birth control pills and then discussed homeopathic methods proven to have positive associations with PCOS symptoms. It was a moment of bliss for me.
But that moment of bliss couldn't change the effect this entire problem had had on my GPA. I'm a goal driven girl, and being so powerless in my studies was more than disheartening. That semester I got the lowest GPA I had ever received in my entire life. A 1.5. I mean, I work to jobs, am active in 3 extra circulars, and still try to exercise a few times a week, all while balancing school and my social life. I typically find it relatively easy, because I'm basically a "natural tweaker." But this GPA is unacceptable. So for Fall 2011 I started a conversation with CU-Boulder's Disabilities Services about my options. Which were basically "you can retroactively withdraw." Which would jeopardize my healthcare. Then I was told to talk to my adviser about it, who told me my only option would be to attempt to petition the Dean of my college.
Then I got pneumonia. Because fuck, why not? And despite having pneumonia and being in one of the best but most demanding classes available at CU, I managed to raise my GPA for the semester to 2.6 and my overall GPA up to a 2.3 up from I believe between 1.7 and 2.0. I figured I finally had a chance to make my case to the Dean. I mean, if having a life threatening illness was actually EASIER to balance with school than all of the associated problems with this cyst, that should say something right?
Wrong. Doesn't matter. The Dean won't hear it. Period. There is no petitioning for course forgiveness. End of Story. Because CU would rather that a person with a serious illness withdrew from classes (no refunds, keep in mind) and only come back if they are able to handle it again. I guess they don't care that a person might not want to be beaten by the disease affecting them. Some of us don't like to lose, and would rather persevere until we do stand back up. So thank you CU, for not giving a flying fuck about the overall education of your students, but only caring about the contents of their pocketbooks. Because THAT'S what higher education should be about right?
