My name is “P” and this is my first Ovarian Cyst story.
Fifteen years ago in May of 2010, I had the misfortune of experiencing what it was like to have an Ovarian Cyst burst for the first time. And the only reason I remember when it happened is because I went to see Jake Gyllenhaal in “Prince of Persia” just after it was released in theaters. I was in my seat as I watched the charismatic prince adventure through the sands of time when I first felt an unfamiliar twinge of discomfort in my abdomen. It felt like an odd combination of having indigestion and period cramps all at once. At the time I was both embarrassed and annoyed, because it was near the end of the movie and I thought I had to poop all of a sudden. What crappy timing! (See what I did there?)
It got so bad that I quickly excused myself from my group of friends and popped into the bathroom, sat down and…
Nothing. Absolutely nothing came out, no bowel movement to show for missing some of the good bits of the film. But the pain had passed and I snuck back to my seat. A few minutes later, I felt that twinge again, but I ignored it and stubbornly sat through the rest of the film. My friends all excitedly talked about the film, the epic fight scenes and their opinions on the dashing hero. I could barely focus because the discomfort was back and quickly escalated to something painful, like the moment after a punch to the gut where you need to get air back in your lungs but any attempts to take a deep breath hurt. I had another fruitless trip to the bathroom before panic began to seep in but I also didn’t want anyone else to worry. What if it was nothing?
So like any other dumb teenager, I faked a smile and walked and talked with my friends about a movie I could barely remember thanks to the feeling in my abdomen that was starting to overwhelm me. It was still difficult to breathe, and it was only later that I realized I was visibly sweating bullets. All I could focus on was not worrying my friends and my brother who were with me.
Unfortunately I didn’t have much of a choice because on the way to the parking lot of the mall, I ended up collapsing in a stairwell landing. At that moment I could’ve sworn that someone had taken a ball of nails and shrapnel and rammed it straight into my stomach. My knees gave out and the next thing I knew I was on the floor. My friends were calling out, but all I could hear was this loud ringing in my ears that I later learned was tinnitus. There are vague memories of me deliriously apologizing to my friends. For what? I’ve no idea because at the time, I really didn’t know what was going on. My terrified older brother ended up racing me to the nearest emergency room, while two of my friends held me in the backseat of his car.
Several hours and tests later, I found out that I suffered from Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and that I had two cysts – one on each ovary. That whole post movie episode I just had was because one of those two cysts decided to burst. When asked what I could do about the second one, I got a sympathetic look from the doctor and was told that at 15mm it wasn’t big enough to be considered “life threatening” – hence they couldn’t really do anything for me.
“Good luck on your next period!” Was the awkward joke that came out of the attending doctor’s mouth. What was I supposed to do with that?!
Though some might wonder just how bad it can be with something as small as 15mm. After all, when anything is described in millimeters, it just seems so tiny. It can’t be that bad, right? It doesn’t seem so until one remembers just how large an ovary actually is in the average woman.
Most human females are typically born with a set of two ovaries, attached to the uterus by way of a fallopian tube. On average, they’re each about 4 centimeters in diameter when fully grown.
Or about the size of a kiwi.
My remaining Ovarian Cyst at the time was about 1.5cm. Imagine having a little sac of fluid in there that’s about a third of that organ’s natural size, and it bursts. “Tiny but Dangerous” seems appropriate in this case, because something that’s a bit larger than my thumbnail managed to send shockwaves of excruciating pain through my entire body. And yet, that was considered an acceptable size by the medical staff to leave alone.
What’s considered “life threatening” then? To be concerning, an Ovarian Cyst must reach at least 10cm in diameter. That’s more than double the size of that kiwi! Anything less and it’s not worth the surgery. And the worst part? I would come to learn that cysts are unfortunately a rather normal part of the menstrual cycle. Most will form, sit in the ovary for a short period of time, and then go away – all without anyone the wiser.
Then there are those, like myself, who end up with larger than expected cysts and risk the pain and disruption when they rupture.
Every period was like playing Russian roulette, except instead of a bullet it’s a fluid sac I could never predict. My average number of Ovarian Cysts tended to be one in three cycles involving a dramatic moment where I’d collapse, my bowels would drop to the soundtrack of high pitched tinnitus, and the aftershocks of pain would follow me for a few hours after.
Twelve years later, and history decided to repeat itself for the nth time.
And this latest Ovarian Cyst beat that performance at the movie theater by a long shot.
(To be continued next week…)
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