Soooooo in the days, months, years ahead, there’s gonna be a lot of uncomfortable stuff. Things you don’t talk about in polite company. But the point of this blog is to document EVERYTHING, and well, I know some people are curious about this sort of thing. SO let me educate you.
If talking about shark week, Vampire tea parties, communists in the funhouse, girl flu, a red light special downtown, a crime scene in your pants, or rebooting the ovarian operating system makes you feel uncomfortable or squicky? Then now’s your time to bail. Here’s a picture of kittens to wipe your mind clear.
Still with me? Okay.
While contemplating everything after my diagnosis, envisioning my future, thinking about all the practicalities, it occurred to me. What the hell am I going to do about my period? I imagine MOST people with ALS have already gone through menopause so it might not be a common question. But it’s just one more damned thing to deal with, that I am not going to be able to take care of myself. And some nurse dealing with that? Man, why. So I brought it up with Doctor Goslin, and she said when the time came, I could talk to my primary about options.
I decided the time had come.
I wanted to start the process now, when I could still deal with it under my own power and remain in complete control. And I wanted to give myself time to adjust to any side effects NOW, to allow enough time to go by to make sure that I had it under control before life was beyond my own control. I decided to go to Planned Parenthood instead of my primary, because they’d have all of the information about ALL of the methods. I wanted options and informed decisions. I did a lot of research on my own, and I really liked the idea of the implant, but that wasn’t a guaranteed stop to menstruation. So I went with an open mind.
It took me a little bit to find it, but it was made easier by the honest to god protest happening outside. Fetus posters and everything. They didn’t fuck with me though, they just stood across the street singing hymns. There was a sign in the upstairs window that said, “Hello protesters! Donors have agreed to give $37 for every one of you that shows up today! Thank you for coming!”
Mannnnnnnnn it took FOREVER. I was half an hour early to my appointment and was taken back 45 minutes after my appointment time. I talked a little bit about it to the aide, she gave me some preliminary information, asked if I wanted AIDS and siphyllis/gonorrhea testing, was I being abused, had I ever been pressured into sex, did I feel safe at home? no, no, no and yes, thank you, I’m fine. She also reminded me it had been 4 years since I’ve had That Thing That Really Sucks and they recommend it every three. Would I like to take care of that today. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOkay FINE.
So the clinician came in and we had a long chat about all of the options. Half of them were out because I have a history of headaches and migraines which estrogen would exacerbate. The implant was not recommended because not only is it NOT a guaranteed end to menstruation, the effects vary wildly. Some women get heavier periods. Some women get spotting, some have irregular and unpredictable flows. So that was out. Which is a SHAME because I’d really like to only have to think about this once every three years, and the idea of a little plastic matchstick under my skin on my arm is creepycool.
We decided on depo-provera. It’s a shot in the arm, once every three months. It’s a hormone called progestin, a slow release that prevents ovulation. She told me that she has another woman who comes in regularly with her developmentally disabled daughter, and the daughter gets the shot as a matter of hygiene so it’s not at all an unheard of application. She had me take a routine pregnancy test first. Just cause. Even though it would be a second-in-history MIRACLE if I were. We did the Thing That Really Sucks, and then she stabbed me in the arm with a needle and I was sent on my way.
My arm’s a little sore. I was told I might gain weight, so maybe just be a little careful about what I eat, and depo CAN cause bone brittleness (yay?) so take calcium. I’ll see how this goes from here. When I left, the protesters were gone and it started raining BUCKETS as I walked to the train stop. A really amazingly nice woman shared her umbrella with me, because of course I didn’t have one. This is Portland man, we don’t believe in umbrellas (SPOILER: YES WE TOTALLY DO. It’s just that it doesn’t usually RAIN here, just this nagging persistent drizzle that only barely counts as rain and you don’t need an umbrella for that you sissy. But when a half block walk had me soaked to the skin? Yes, yes I WOULD like an umbrella. Thank you, lovely lady.)
We will see how this goes. I’ll keep you updated. And now you have an answer to a question you might have been afraid to ask, or didn’t occur to you. So when someone asks, what do women with ALS do about their periods? Now you totally know.