I had been with my serious boyfriend for a few months (let’s refer to him as T) when I decided that I wanted to loose my virginity with him. I finally felt like I was in the kind of mutual, caring relationship where I felt that sex was an option. But here I was at 22, a young woman who had never been able to use a tampon or be examined by my gynecologist, and while I had never attempted to have sex with any of my previous boyfriends, any guy who tried to finger me had caused serious amounts of pain.
Because of all these factors I decided that my first move should be to return to a gynecologist so that I could explain the things I had been experiencing over the years.
Why did I wait all that time? Because I was afraid. I was afraid that there would actually be no visible “problem” with me. Afraid that there would be no explanation and even worse no solution. I imagined that I might just be crazy, making it all up in my head, or just some kind of sexual freak. Yet despite these fears I knew that I needed answers even if they were not ones I wanted to hear. I also knew that I wanted to be on birth control before having sex and wanted to get a prescription from my doctor.
My mother (a nurse) got a reference for an OB-GYN that specialized in younger women and had been recommended for her sensitivity in working with patients that might have sexual abnormalities (for lack of a better word).
On the day of my appointment I felt very nervous. Anytime I sit in a doctors office in a hospital gown, I both sweat profusely from my armpits, shiver non-stop, and itt is difficult to keep my thoughts from panicking while I wait alone in the little room surrounded by health diagrams and medical equipment. It is not so much that I am afraid I will get hurt, but just extreme discomfort and nerves that make me want to get it over with.
With my legs up in the stirrups my doctor explained that she would start by trying to insert her finger into my vagina in order to do a touch examination. I had recollections of the one other time a gynecologist attempted this same exam and I yelled and cried because of the nerves and shock over just how painful it was. This time I knew what to expect and while the same element of surprise was not there, even when she tried to insert the tip of her finger I felt an unidentifiable pain followed by a stinging when this small amount of finger was removed. We both knew that the exam wasn’t going to happen. I began to cry out of the sheer frustration of just wanting this to be easy: exam, birth control, sex, done. Why couldn’t I be normal? Every other woman I knew was able to get exams and have an active sex life. I really couldn’t stand myself in this moment. I was ashamed, embarrassed, and angry at the situation.
My doctor discussed that one possible explanation for my pain was a microperforate hymen. A woman or girl’s hymen will break naturally in most cases at some point before she hits puberty, however, some hymens don't break enough and have only small holes or slits, which can cause pain during the first attempts at penetration. It was made clear that my doctor could not be sure if this was the case with me until she could examine me, and in the current state an examination was out of the question. So we scheduled a hymenectomy, in which I would be put under sedation and she would start with a physical exam and then if she found me to have a microperforated hymen she would operate to surgically enlarge the opening and also give me my first pap smear. Either way she would be able to answer more questions thanks to the anesthesia allowing her to access my vagina.
I scheduled the surgery for right before Christmas. T and I would have to wait until I recovered from the surgery for me to go on birth control, and my gyno said that under the circumstances she would not recommend attempting to have intercourse (out of the question as far as I was concerned). I will always be grateful for T’s patience, especially because he was not a virgin, and yet always wanted me to feel comfortable and without pressure. It was also a distance relationship so on the rare occasions we actually got to see each other we managed to still make our sexual activity fun and as satisfying as possible. To be honest I think at times that I was more impatient than he was.
And so the week before Christmas of 2012 I headed home to get my maybe surgery. I remember my mom being there with me in the waiting room and up until I got my anesthesia. She is always a calm presence in medical situations and can explain everything thanks to her background as a nurse. I was definitely nervous and jumpy with a lot of adrenaline, but the nurses and doctors really helped by always being upbeat and asking me distracting questions. It was my first time using anesthesia and like some, I had heard stories about the rare occasions when it doesn’t work properly. The last thing I remember is being wheeled down the hall chatting non-stop and surrounded by the surgical team. Going under I felt surprisingly happy, which I’m pretty sure was thanks to the drugs, and completely fine with me.
It is so strange to picture what that surgery must have looked like. I would assume my legs were somehow propped up, but apart from that, the image of surgery in my head is from movies and television shows. Did my body really not react at all to the business going on inside? How could I not wake up when there were surgical instruments being used in my very personal vagina? It is both fascinating and scary to think about all that I will never know or remember. I wish I could understand better what went on, the things that were said, and what exactly my doctor found while in that room with me.
To be continued…
Because of all these factors I decided that my first move should be to return to a gynecologist so that I could explain the things I had been experiencing over the years.
Why did I wait all that time? Because I was afraid. I was afraid that there would actually be no visible “problem” with me. Afraid that there would be no explanation and even worse no solution. I imagined that I might just be crazy, making it all up in my head, or just some kind of sexual freak. Yet despite these fears I knew that I needed answers even if they were not ones I wanted to hear. I also knew that I wanted to be on birth control before having sex and wanted to get a prescription from my doctor.
My mother (a nurse) got a reference for an OB-GYN that specialized in younger women and had been recommended for her sensitivity in working with patients that might have sexual abnormalities (for lack of a better word).
On the day of my appointment I felt very nervous. Anytime I sit in a doctors office in a hospital gown, I both sweat profusely from my armpits, shiver non-stop, and itt is difficult to keep my thoughts from panicking while I wait alone in the little room surrounded by health diagrams and medical equipment. It is not so much that I am afraid I will get hurt, but just extreme discomfort and nerves that make me want to get it over with.
With my legs up in the stirrups my doctor explained that she would start by trying to insert her finger into my vagina in order to do a touch examination. I had recollections of the one other time a gynecologist attempted this same exam and I yelled and cried because of the nerves and shock over just how painful it was. This time I knew what to expect and while the same element of surprise was not there, even when she tried to insert the tip of her finger I felt an unidentifiable pain followed by a stinging when this small amount of finger was removed. We both knew that the exam wasn’t going to happen. I began to cry out of the sheer frustration of just wanting this to be easy: exam, birth control, sex, done. Why couldn’t I be normal? Every other woman I knew was able to get exams and have an active sex life. I really couldn’t stand myself in this moment. I was ashamed, embarrassed, and angry at the situation.
My doctor discussed that one possible explanation for my pain was a microperforate hymen. A woman or girl’s hymen will break naturally in most cases at some point before she hits puberty, however, some hymens don't break enough and have only small holes or slits, which can cause pain during the first attempts at penetration. It was made clear that my doctor could not be sure if this was the case with me until she could examine me, and in the current state an examination was out of the question. So we scheduled a hymenectomy, in which I would be put under sedation and she would start with a physical exam and then if she found me to have a microperforated hymen she would operate to surgically enlarge the opening and also give me my first pap smear. Either way she would be able to answer more questions thanks to the anesthesia allowing her to access my vagina.
I scheduled the surgery for right before Christmas. T and I would have to wait until I recovered from the surgery for me to go on birth control, and my gyno said that under the circumstances she would not recommend attempting to have intercourse (out of the question as far as I was concerned). I will always be grateful for T’s patience, especially because he was not a virgin, and yet always wanted me to feel comfortable and without pressure. It was also a distance relationship so on the rare occasions we actually got to see each other we managed to still make our sexual activity fun and as satisfying as possible. To be honest I think at times that I was more impatient than he was.
And so the week before Christmas of 2012 I headed home to get my maybe surgery. I remember my mom being there with me in the waiting room and up until I got my anesthesia. She is always a calm presence in medical situations and can explain everything thanks to her background as a nurse. I was definitely nervous and jumpy with a lot of adrenaline, but the nurses and doctors really helped by always being upbeat and asking me distracting questions. It was my first time using anesthesia and like some, I had heard stories about the rare occasions when it doesn’t work properly. The last thing I remember is being wheeled down the hall chatting non-stop and surrounded by the surgical team. Going under I felt surprisingly happy, which I’m pretty sure was thanks to the drugs, and completely fine with me.
It is so strange to picture what that surgery must have looked like. I would assume my legs were somehow propped up, but apart from that, the image of surgery in my head is from movies and television shows. Did my body really not react at all to the business going on inside? How could I not wake up when there were surgical instruments being used in my very personal vagina? It is both fascinating and scary to think about all that I will never know or remember. I wish I could understand better what went on, the things that were said, and what exactly my doctor found while in that room with me.
To be continued…