My husband and I were thrilled to arrive in Los Angeles to 80-degree weather and sunshine. We immediately parked ourselves on Huntington Beach, slathered in sunscreen to protect our Oregon skin, of course. Despite the sunscreen, we still managed to burn the shit out of ourselves. We came back to our friend’s beach house to be greeted by his sister-in-law saying, “Oh my God.” Apparently SPF 30 isn’t adequate.
Physical therapy was quite the challenge, thanks to my tomato red skin. Let me add that when most people compare their sunburned skin to a tomato, they’re exaggerating a bit. I am not exaggerating. This was the worst sunburn I had ever gotten in my life. The therapist was creative though, and had me ice areas before she worked them. She also made sure to keep to the unburned areas as much as possible.
Internal work was also excruciating, as my organs did not want to be moved or manipulated. However, to break up adhesions, this movement was necessary. I learned that the uterus, Fallopian tubes, cervix, and ovaries all have different kinds of pain. The ovaries are like being kicked in the balls, since essentially they are the same tissue. My left ovary was stuck low and near my vaginal canal, which explains the previous few years of less than pleasurable sex. If you kicked your partner in the balls, would he be in the mood? But as Mary continued to work, things did loosen. Our homework, she said, was to have relations.
Hmm. I looked at my sunburned self and husband. Well at least the important parts aren’t burned. Despite the awkwardness, not only did I have hardly any pain, I actually felt pleasure. This was a whole new world for both of us.
The next day, the therapist did internal work again to further break up adhesions and allow my organs to move freely and function. As she worked, I had visions. I saw blooming hibiscus flowers within a primordial fluid environment. They were bursting open all over my field of vision. I also saw glowing white orbs. As she worked the right side I saw black oil spewing from my body, as if I was exorcising my inner demons.
That day I felt much more loving towards my husband. We had a romantic day on the Santa Monica Pier and got our portrait drawn by a cartoon artist. You can see the joy in our cartoon faces. It felt like we were us again.
The treatment was life changing. I cried, hugging the therapist, thanking her for changing my life. I was almost pain free: I could open my jaw enough to eat a sandwich, I could see and hear better, and move freely. I was made new again.
Upon returning to Oregon I had some strange premonitions, thoughts, and dreams. I dreamed I was pregnant with a boy. I thought to myself: “Avoid your sister-in-law, whooping cough is bad for the baby.” “Don’t drink that wine, it’s bad for the baby.” After which I’d mentally smack myself upside the head and think, “What baby? There is no baby you weirdo.”
Then my breasts grew. I am a small woman. This is not normal. The last time my breasts grew, it was because I gained 30 pounds. Even then, they barely grew a cup size. This time, I was bursting out of my bra. That coupled with the daily cravings for Dairy Queen Blizzards with peanut butter cups made me think something was up. These were cravings like if I didn’t have that Blizzard I was going to die! So when my period didn’t come, like it never does anyway, I reluctantly took a pregnancy test. Just like every other cycle, I expected a disappointing result. Two minutes later I had my answer: Pregnant.
For any women experiencing pain and torture from endometriosis, fibroids, polycystic ovary syndrome, or vulvodynia, please look into treatment from Clear Passage Physical Therapy. For West Coasters, there is a clinic in Irvine, California and the therapist’s name is Mary Cox. She is a miracle worker. You can check out their website for other success stories, clinical research, and information about getting treatment.
I also recommend the book Women’s Bodies Women’s Wisdom, by Dr. Christiane Northrup.
Read the first part of Infertility.