I thought all my symptoms were a “normal” part of being a woman.
I have friends with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (or PCOS). I’ve known friends of friends who’ve had it. But since I didn’t have the symptoms they had (excess body hair, tendency towards obesity, loads of acne, hair loss etc) I never suspected I had it until it was discovered completely by accident.
When I broke up with my ex at the age of 32, my first thought was “Holy shit, I’m single at 32.” My second thought was “Holy shit I’m single at 32 and I want kids.” As if the prospect of starting over in terms of dating wasn’t daunting enough, I also had to somehow find someone who wanted children, and soon… Or did I?
I started to think about the possibility of freezing my eggs. It seemed like everyone over 30 was doing it these days, to allow them some peace of mind while navigating the dumpster fire that is modern dating. The procedure had become sort of an insurance policy for the perpetually dismayed with the state of relationships, a beacon of hope for those hoping for offspring but not wanting to settle for Mr Sends a Dick Pic Before A First Date because that biological clock is ticking loud.
Before I made any rash decisions that would cost me a kasquillion dollars, I thought it would be best to pay a friendly gynaecologist a visit to check what my fertility situation actually was.
My Diagnosis of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.
As part of the whole figuring out what kind of condition my baby maker was in, I had a wonderful (read: not wonderful) transvaginal ultrasound. This involves a condom-covered plastic rod thing being stuck up my vagina and wiggled around so the gyno could see all my internal lady parts.
It was a very odd feeling, not uncomfortable, just strange making small talk to a near stranger with my legs in stirrups while he directed a vag probe around my insides for a sneaky peek.
“So you have plenty of eggs,” he said. “That’s good news. You probably don’t need to start thinking about egg freezing until around 36.”