You may have read my first installment of Hysteria, a short piece featured in Ask Me About My Uterus. If not, I refer you to that narrative and other insightful reads in that collection. If you’re wondering what happened to me and my hysterical uterus, read on for a brief account of my bloody journey.
I’ve always been an outlier and don’t know that I would want to be boring and average anyways. I’m left-handed and according to Wikipedia, only about 10% of the world’s population is. I’ve experienced running-related stress fractures and these comprise about 2% of sports injuries. Is it any wonder that my cycle falls into a rare category? Whether this is my new normal or not, I felt it required investigation. But Western medicine didn’t tell me much other than it’s not cancer. It offered me hormones that I had tried before and reacted badly to.
What’s a woman with a hysterical uterus to do? Bleeding for half a month is annoying and puts me at risk of anemia. I decided to turn to that other part of the world, less well-accepted by the traditional medical community— Eastern medicine. About two weeks ago, I saw a naturopathic doctor with a practice in traditional Chinese medicine.
If you’re in the medical field, you may be wondering what led me down this unconventional path and I would direct you my first installment of Hysteria. In desperate situations even a scientific person like me will turn to anyone for help. I mentioned naturopathy to my medical doctor friend and she was very skeptical. While I respect her beliefs, her opinion didn’t stop me from pursuing an alternative solution. My scientific mind is just as skeptical as hers, but my hysterical mind is open to anything that can offer what Western medicine doesn’t always — hope.
My first naturopathic consultation was 1.5 hours. Never has a doctor spent more than 5 minutes with me discussing my problems, let alone providing me with written instructions on possible interventions during an initial consultation. I guess that’s what fee-for-service gets you when compared with universal Canadian health care. My naturopathic doctor examined every aspect of me, from physical complaints, to dietary habits, to psycho-social issues. My health was examined from a global perspective, with a focus on gradual change rather than quick fixes. Although many of her suggestions with respect to diet and supplements were logical, she also emphasized the mind-body connection and suggested that I resurrect my dormant meditation practice.
Although I’m familiar with mindfulness meditation, having taken a course on it, I had fallen off the meditation bandwagon over a year ago. My naturopath explained that my problems likely had a physical basis, but that she felt stress was a significant contributing factor. She measured my blood pressure and pulse and found them low and erratic. We discussed potential sources of stress and she commented that I had a lot of uncertainty in my life. This stress had migrated to my Chinese liver, the organ that controls the menstrual cycle, among other things. She prescribed a herbal tea that’s supposed to restore my liver balance, thereby helping to regulate my cycle.
I’m drinking it right now as I write this. The warm, dark, bitter liquid sliding down my throat easier than it did when I started it two weeks ago. I’ve gotten used to its smokey, pungent aroma and its bitter, unpalatable taste, even grown to enjoy it. I’m not sure that it’ll do much for my cycle, but even a placebo effect would be welcome at this point. Perhaps combining the tea with meditation will have a synergistic effect. In any case, my first naturopathic experience gave me hope and a sense of control over life’s uncertainties. I think that’s the best medicine.
