Would You Look At The Size Of That Thing!

Would You Look At The Size Of That Thing!

“Excuse me? You want to put… that… where? At least buy me a coffee and tell me how cute I look in this new jacket!”

I’m sitting in a white room surrounded by photos of other people’s babies. I turn to my new doctor, Dr Saj OBGYN. He comes highly regarded and highly recommended. This guy has seen a lot of vaginas.

I’m not here to add to his wall of infant fame. I’m here to do the opposite; to put my uterus out of business. I’m also hoping it will assist in restoring my iron levels (Woman with NO Steel, remember?). My GP suggested I investigate my options.

So, Dr Saj and I are talking about a device called the Mirena IUD. The tiny looking pogo stick is only about the length of my little toe, but here I am staring at a large rod. It’s attached to this long surgical pipe that will go straight up my vajayjay. If I were Katniss Everdeen, I would have used this as weapon as I charged into battle.

There is only one way in… and it’s not up the nose. So, after a lot of reading big words, asking what the big words mean and talking to Dr Saj, we booked me in for the procedure.

After booking in ANOTHER day off after just returning to work after four weeks away (and explaining to the boss man that I’m not taking the piss), I went down to Chemist Warehouse and bought my period plug.

With my Katniss arrow under my arm, I marched on into St John of God. In a matter of hours, I’ll be living the flow-free life. No more surprise visits from Aunt Flo, who only brings weight gain, mood swings, the overwhelming desire to rip a mans nuts off if he asks what’s wrong and the urge to cry when an animal story appears on The Project.

I tell the anaesthesiologist that I have a history of long recovery times (aka loves sleep so don’t wake me) and then I’m wheeled in.
As I’m lying on my back with the anaesthetic taking over, I think to myself “why did it take me this long to take control of my body? How did I not know this was an option?” I was not a sheltered child, but we just didn’t discuss sexual health in our family. I’m not naïve, I’m just uninformed. It may have taken three decades, but at least I know about it now. You should never stop asking questions, seeking answers and making the right decision for you and your body.

So, I woke up with a foreign object embedded in my uterus, a craving for jelly and a sense of achievement. I am taking control of my health. My door’s shut on my baby maker and I no longer stockpile sanitary products (just as they remove the GST, what timing).

But as a woman I still have the right to cry over cute animal videos on YouTube and crave chocolate at 11pm for no logical reason other than ‘F*&K YOU that’s why’.

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