First PT Appointment. Sort of.

15 01 2009

Ok. Now that I’ve gotten my head together and feel a little better about everything, I will try to describe my appointment with my physical therapist. Of course, with my bad memory and it now being 2 days after the fact, I’ve probably forgotten a lot of details.

I went in having absolutely no idea what to expect. When my gyno had told me to go see this person, she didn’t give me any details whatsoever. She didn’t even tell me that she was a physical therapist. I found that out on my own after finding a listing on the internet. (Side-note: the more I talk about my gyno and notice that everything I say about her is negative, the more I realize that maybe I should start looking for a new gyno. She’s not very receptive of my feelings, she didn’t take the time to sit me down and explain what was going on with me, she didn’t try to calm me down, and she wasn’t very gentle at all- she jammed her finger in me even after I shouted and cried that it hurt).

But back to the PT appointment. I walked into the waiting room and noticed that there was a type of exercise room at the far end of the hall, with treadmills and elyptical machines, that sort of stuff. So this was definitely a general physical therapy type of place; you know, where they exercise your legs, or your arms, or your back. You wouldn’t walk in there and think “someone in one of these rooms is getting her vagina stretched out right now.” They gave me some paperwork to fill out. One of the papers asked a bunch of questions about my medical history, what kind of meds I was on, and then it asked what my injury was. After some consideration, I put in “N/A”. What would it have looked like if I had written “broken vagina”?

At this point, an old man in sweats walked past me. Everyone who went in and out of that place was dressed in exercise clothes, even the therapists. I felt very overdressed in my work pants. Good thing I was wearing comfortable shoes at least.

After I waited for what seemed over a half hour, a pretty, young woman came up to me and introduced herself as Amy, my therapist. I had expected a middle-aged heavy-set lady for some reason. I was happily surprised. She would be much easier to talk to. She led me into one of the rooms and told me to have a seat on the massage-table-looking thing in the middle of the very small, dimly lit room. It felt like a room in someone’s home, rather than a doctor’s office, which was really nice. She sat on a stool in front of me, and I had to look down at her while I answered her questions, which felt kind of strange, but relaxing at the same time. She asked me how old I was, and some other questions about my health which slip my mind at the moment. This is where my memory starts to get hazy. We eventually got on the topic of why I was there, and I told her that I had first tried to use a tampon years ago, and that it started to hurt before I had even gotten it like half an inch in, so I freaked out and never tried again. Then I told her about my many attempts to have sex, and how it would start hurting the second he started trying to push it in. “He” being my ex-boyfriend. It brought back painful memories of him when she asked me approximately when it was that I had tried. Then I told her about my very painful and traumatizing visits to the gyno, and how the second time was worse than the first. I told her about the diagnosis I’d gotten, and that I was told to start taking amitriptyline (amitriptyline is a tricyclic antidepressant, which I’ve read is sometimes prescribed to women with vulval pain disorders, although it’s not proven that it works… great). She then told me a little about the pelvis, and the muscles in that area, and how the muscle spasms can cause pain upon penetration. She also showed me a model of the pelvis and pointed out where the muscles are located. She then flipped through a book of the human anatomy and showed me some diagrams of what the vulva looked like. I wasn’t surprised by what I saw, because I’ve seen many diagrams of what it should look like down there, and have even seen actual pictures (it is GROSS!), but for some reason I can’t get up the nerve to look at my own damn vagina. I then asked her if she was familiar with vaginismus, and when she nodded, I told her that I think that’s what I may have. She immediately shook her head and said “that may not necessarily be it.”

This is the part that really frustrates me. She was so quick to discount the possibility of vaginismus without even really asking me why I thought I had it, or asking me what symptoms I have that could point to it. Isn’t that what my “pelvic floor dysfunction” is? Muscle spasms causing pain upon penetration, a.k.a. vaginismus? Not to mention extreme fear of penetration. Vaginismus, hellooo. I’m not incontinent, I don’t have problems with my bowels, and I don’t have any other type of pelvic pain, which are other typical symptoms of pelvic floor dysfunction, so how can she be so quick to assume that that’s what I have, and discount vaginismus so quickly?! It’s the only thing that makes sense to me!

Rant over.

After that, she asked me if my gyno had explained to me or given me an idea of what she would be doing with me, and I told her that I had no clue. She told me that she would insert her finger and manually stretch out the muscles around the vagina, and then she said some stuff about certain pressure points in there that can be more tense than others. After hearing the word “insert”, you could see the blood leaving my face. I thought I would SLOWLY be introduced to insertion, once I learned to relax the muscles through external means… or something! Anything other than “insert finger”! While all these thoughts were flying through my brain, Amy was still talking. I tried to collect myself and listen to what she was saying. She was telling me that they also use a process called “biofeedback“, which I had already heard of, thanks to the wonders of the Internet. She explained that it’s basically a machine that can “read” your muscle movements, and it electronically tells you whether your muscles are relaxed or contracted. One type of biofeedback machine has a vaginal probe. I don’t like the word “probe”. She told me the probe is a bit large, so that wouldn’t be an option for me right now. I breathed a sigh of relief when she said that. According to the stuff I’ve read online, it uses a “small” probe. I guess it would be small to normal women, but to me, any probe is way too big, no matter how small. Good thing Amy understands that anything with a probe isn’t going to be touching me any time soon. She said there’s also another type of biofeedback machine that uses sensors similar to the ones they use on heart-monitoring machines. That sounds much better to me.

Unfortunately for me, she said she would have to start off with the finger insertion, which I didn’t like at all. I tried to explain to her how much it hurt when my gyno inserted her finger, and even though she assured me she would be much more gentle than any gyno ever was, I was still not reassured. I told her that I have an extreme fear of penetration, and I don’t know the cause of my phobia, and that I wasn’t sure if I would need psychological counseling or not. I basically just started babbling, because I really really didn’t want her to do it. She then told me that she would prefer to refer me to a vulvar pain specialist, because if there’s a physical problem, then that would need to be treated first, before I could even think of therapy. She referred me to a nurse practitioner at the Pelvic and Sexual Health Institute of Philadelphia. I was actually relieved to hear there was such a place. These people would have to know what’s wrong with me, and how to treat it. Amy also told me that the institute has counselors available if I felt that I needed to address any psychological issues. She stressed that patients need to be mentally ready for physical therapy. Upon hearing that, I lost hope. I feel like I’m never going to be mentally ready.

Thankfully, although Amy couldn’t help me right now, she was extremely helpful, telling me that she would personally speak with my gyno to explain my situation, and that she would contact the nurse practitioner at the Institute and speak to her about me before I went in. She also told me to keep in touch with her about when my appointment is so that we could work out a time to go back and see her to begin therapy. And she told me to do it soon because healing this takes time. But why do I have to rush? I have no boyfriend to speak of. So why do I have to rush to get something in my vagina when there’s no hope of a potential penis to enter it anytime soon? “Vaginismus and lack of sex is not cancer. There should be no rush to treat it.” [Vaginismus Awareness Network]

Nevertheless, I called the Institute today to make an appointment. I’m still waiting to hear back from them as to my insurance coverage. They had me fax over my insurance ID card so that they could verify my coverage before I made an appointment. I’m actually glad for that because I was so worried that they either didn’t take my insurance, or that my insurance wouldn’t cover their services and I would get hit with surprise bills later. I’m keeping my fingers crossed because these people are my only hope!





Step One

8 01 2009

Yesterday, I FINALLY got the courage to pick up the phone and call the therapist that my gyno referred me to. I was supposed to go sometime in the middle of December, but I was way too scared to even make the call. For a long time, I felt too depressed after finding out that I was a defective woman, that I wanted to forget I had this and go on with my life as usual. I’m really glad I joined the support group though, otherwise I would be a miserable wreck everyday and would avoid my problem forever.

My appointment is for Tuesday. I didn’t realize how soon that was and wanted to call her back and yell “never mind, that’s too soon!!” But it’s better to just get it over with, right? I have no idea what to expect though. From the conversation I had with the secretary, the place I’m going to seems like a general physical therapy place. Which means they may or may not be familiar with my condition. My gyno referred me to a specific therapist, so I’m assuming she has to know what she’s going to be dealing with. The secretary said that the first visit would be a general evaluation, so it would take one hour, and subsequent visits would probably be around 20 minutes or so. So I asked her if she can give me an idea of what the evaluation entails, and she says to me, “Well which general body part are we going to be working with here? Leg, arm, back?” 

“Uhh, noo, it’s my vagina.” *small chuckle*. I can already tell here that I’m gonna have to start getting really comfortable with saying the word “vagina” out loud. And I’m sure numerous other uncomfortable words as well. Sigh.

Anyway, she told me they would likely talk to me for a while and ask me some questions, and then they would probably examine me. At which point my breath caught in my throat. I will NOT have someone poking and prodding down there without proper preparation. And I am NOT properly prepared. I’m assuming that after the Q&A, the therapist is going to realize just how severe of a case I am, and she’ll be slightly more sensitive to the fact that I am not ready to have someone jam a finger, or anything else for that matter, up a tiny opening that does not want to be penetrated. Cause let me tell you, it fucking hurts like someone is stabbing me in the vagina. And I’m pretty sure that my last visit to the gyno made my vaginismus even worse, because now I’m even more terrified than before of spreading my legs open for a doctor. 

So, I guess we’ll see how step one of “Conquer the Vag” goes.





Vaginismus

6 01 2009

I’m not sure why it’s taken me so long to post another entry. I started this blog so that I could have a record of my journey in overcoming my problem. But the truth is, I haven’t really taken any steps to overcome this, besides reading as much as I possibly can about it. I guess I’ve kind of been avoiding confronting this, and have been too afraid to materialize my feelings on it. Although I have a much better understanding of what’s wrong with me, it doesn’t make me any less scared or confused. I have yet to make my first appointment with the physical therapist my gyno referred me to. I was supposed to go almost a month ago. Every day, I stare at the little blue prescription slip she gave me, wondering if today will be the day I call. That day has yet to happen.

I did join an online support group, which has been really great in helping me deal with my feelings of isolation and inadequacy, and the feeling that I’m “broken”. It turns out that I’m not the only one that’s suffering from this, that I’m not a freak, and that there are plenty of women out there who are much older than me and are still virgins. And a lot of these women are in committed, loving relationships. Imagine that, a relationship without sex. Who would have thought?

I guess I should mention that from all the reading I’ve done on the internet, I’ve come to the conclusion that besides my diagnosis of vestibulitis, I have a condition called “vaginismus“. I don’t have any kind of official diagnosis from a certified doctor, but I’m certain without a doubt that this is what I have. The medical definition of vaginismus is “the persistent or recurrent difficulties of the woman to allow vaginal entry of a penis, a finger, and/or any object, despite the woman’s expressed wish to do so. There is often (phobic) avoidance and anticipation/fear/experience of pain, along with variable involuntary pelvic muscle contraction. Structural or other physical abnormalities must be ruled out/addressed.” That describes my vagina in a nutshell. Not only do my muscles clamp up when anything comes near my vagina, but even the thought of penetration is enough to make me panic. Although my gyno never mentioned vaginismus to me, she did say that I have pelvic floor dysfunction, which is one of the basic aspects of this condition. She also isn’t aware that I’ve been severely afraid of penetration for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately, there are a lot of gynecologists that aren’t familiar with vaginismus at all, so I’m wondering if maybe I was misdiagnosed. Pelvic floor dysfunction doesn’t just refer to problems with vaginal penetration, it’s also associated with problems going to the bathroom, which thankfully is not my case at all. As for vestibulitis, there’s a good chance that I do have that, and that may be one of the factors that caused my vaginismus. I’m hoping that a visit to this physical therapist will help to clear things up for me… once I get the courage to call her. I’m also afraid that I might need some kind of psychological therapy as well. I’m not sure how much of this stuff my insurance would cover. Yet another thing to fear.





Nightmare

18 11 2008

I had my first and only pap smear last November. After years of avoiding the gyno’s office, I had finally heeded my friends’ advice and decided to go in for the routine pap smear. I believed my friends’ reassurances that all I would feel is a little pressure, and that once it was over, I would finally get over my fear of tampons and sex. Unfortunately, I felt more than a little pressure. I felt an unbelievable amount of pain. My doctor didn’t think much of it, and after handing me some samples of birth control, she ran out the door telling me that I better start using tampons if I wanted my first time to be pain-free. A year later, after many painful and tearful attempts at sex, I am still a virgin, and I’m even more scared to try tampons than I was before.

I went back to the gyno’s office yesterday, in time for my yearly visit. I told myself to be brave, and that the pain was all in my head, and that all I had to do was relax. As much as I tried to relax, I couldn’t ignore the fact that the pain was real, and it hurt like a motherfucking bitch. i burst into tears on the examining table and begged the doctor to stop. They finally realized that there was something wrong and that this pain I was feeling is not normal. The head gyno was called in, and I sobbed on the table while they discussed and tried to examine me. Finally, I was told that I have a condition called vestibulitis and I also have severe pelvic floor dysfunction. I’d never even heard of that. Finally, a physical explanation for why I’ve felt like a freak all these years, although that didn’t make me feel better at all. The doctor prescribed a drug called amitriptyline, an antidepressant that she said would help loosen the muscles around my vagina. After a month of taking that, I’m supposed to go see a physical therapist she recommended.

This whole thing feels like a nightmare. The more stuff I find about it on the internet, the more scared I feel. This is constantly on my mind and I’m having trouble focusing at work and on everyday things. I can’t even sit down to watch my favorite TV shows without my mind wandering or without me bursting into tears. I have never been more scared in my life.








Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.