What my ovaries look like. Source: women-health-info.com
Well, I’m having yet another bad ovary day. It’s not as bad as my last bad ovary day, but it’s still bad enough to force me to think critically about my pain management strategy and/or will to live.
So here we go! How to get through mittelschmerz, or pain during ovulation:
- Make sure it’s the weekend. You can’t just have cyst pain on a weekday — what, are you nuts? Do whatever you have to do — incantations, seances, calling up Russell T. Davies and asking him to write one more Doctor Who episode, just for old time’s sake — to make sure you have no obligations while your ovary is tethering you to the ground like a swollen, bloody anchor of human tissue.
- Take whatever you have that’s strongest. My doctor (like, my primary care physician, not David Tennant) gave me Tramadol for my bad ovary days. Maybe you’re more about NSAIDs — go for the Aleve. Maximum strength. And maybe a shot of whiskey. I don’t even like whiskey, but I’m considering it now — and it’s 8:56AM.
- Don’t move. Not even a little. Don’t walk. Don’t lean. Don’t even turn your head too far to look out the window (oh look, a pretty bird, I think it’s a cardinAGHH!). Consider investing in a bedpan, but a better move is just not to drink anything, because pissing hurts on bad ovary days. Have a caring soul blast your furnace so that you sweat all your fluids out. Which brings me to my next point:
- Don’t be around anyone. You’re sweating, and it’s inadvisable to walk to get your deodorant, so stay put, because every step feels like a medium-sized dog with lockjaw is hanging from your hip with its teeth. You’re going to smell. You’re going to be ornery. You’re going to want to spit poison from under your tongue at anyone who looks at you funny (this is actually a little-known adaptive ability of PCOS cysters. Try it on your friends!).
- Let it out. Wail. Gnash your teeth. Wear nothing but sackcloth, rub ashes all over your skin, and make sacrifices to the fertility gods. Now is not the time to be proud, cyster. Let the tears flow. Between this and the sweating, allow your body to become a dry, desiccated husk, emptying yourself of precious life force to show the cruel forces of the Universe that you are humble enough to do their bidding if it means ending this pain. PROTIP: If you must sell your soul to the devil at the crossroads, don’t just settle for a clean pair of ovaries. Make sure you at least hook yourself up with some sweet bluesy guitar skills. Do some peyote, sell your new eggs for some one-of-a-kind six-string, and do a tripped-out cover of Robin Trower’s “Bridge of Sighs.” I’ll listen to that shit all day long, cyster.
Well, there you have it — Natty’s short, simple to-do list for bad ovary days. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go cry a little.
