It's OK to be sad sometimes: my experience with loss

It's OK to be sad sometimes: my experience with loss

I spent months crying into Gracie’s fur as I shook and sobbed on the sofa.  I flew weekly for medical treatments out-of-state, and I returned home to clutch Gracie for hours as I recharged my batteries.  I absorbed her unconditional love for me in times of excruciating turmoil surrounding my health, our wedding, law school, financial instability, and familial discord. 

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THINX: The period panties I can't stop talking about

THINX: The period panties I can't stop talking about

For those who don't know, THINX are a period underwear that can substitute for (or give back-up to) tampons or pads.  They're reusable (so they scratched my environmentalist itch), they're made by a woman-owned company (scratching my feminist itch), and they're utterly natural (scratching my itch to have transparency for those things I put in or on my body).

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A few bad apples: Don't let a rotten provider stress you out (& find a better one!)

A few bad apples: Don't let a rotten provider stress you out (& find a better one!)

Sometimes, I leave a doctor’s appointment and think “gawd, that was an awful experience.”  And for most patients, bad experiences equal bad doctors.  The doctor may be brilliant, published, and well-respected, but if she’s rude, condescending, or freaks me out, she gets a failing grade from me. 

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My path to finding my calling: winding past pain, law, the FBI & a higher power's plans

My path to finding my calling: winding past pain, law, the FBI & a higher power's plans

I’ve connected with many women around Chicago, holding hands across the table with them at Starbucks while we shed tears of sheer gratitude for the unique empathy and understanding we can offer to each other.  I’ve giggled with them through mascara-stained cheeks as we wonder what nearby customers think of all this emotional vulva talk.

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I dropped an f-bomb at the gynecologist yesterday. Here's why.

I dropped an f-bomb at the gynecologist yesterday. Here's why.

I think we as patients would often be better off with no medical intervention. Because not all "intervention" counts as healthcare. And yesterday, while I saw a doctor and received an exam and had some tests run, I wasn't cared for. And it felt like shit.

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A history of pain does NOT mean that any activity is off-limits for you.

A history of pain does NOT mean that any activity is off-limits for you.

Exercise feels good, it’s empowering, and it’s taught me to be in-tune with my strengths in a way I didn’t realize possible.  I’ve formed friendships, gained confidence, and found community.  And, had I listened to those providers who long ago told me I should live more gently, I would’ve missed out on the entire experience.

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Surviving a Flight with a Stressed-Out Bladder

Surviving a Flight with a Stressed-Out Bladder

Missy Lavender, CEO of Below Your Belt, has shared with us this primer on plane travel with a stressed-out bladder.  Enjoy, and #flydry!

As a bladder health patient - part urge/part stress - I am on a constant 'bladder alert'.  Yes, I know all the "to do's" and "not to do's" and, in general, I feel like I am winning the battle of the bladder. But then there is THE PLANE RIDE......(cue Star Wars theme, "dum de Dum, dum de Dum....")! How do you handle a one, two or in my case this morning, a three hour teeny tiny cylinder in the air, plane ride?

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Graded exposure to work: How I did it with the help of some furry friends

Graded exposure to work: How I did it with the help of some furry friends

My months at the dog daycare were some of the most powerful in my recovery.  When I started work, I struggled with the basics – keeping a routine, maintaining enough energy to get to work, and learning new tasks.  The job was fun and challenging; it was manual labor, and it gave me confidence in my strength – and, importantly, in my ability to integrate my strength into my responsibilities.  Previously, I’d kept the two separate: my responsibilities lived in my laptop, which I used from the security of the sofa; meanwhile, my strength lived at the yoga studio, but I didn’t push its limits outside those walls.  This job, though, combined the two, and it taught me how to harness my energy and [literally] play well with others again.

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Why I refuse to do "everything in moderation"

Why I refuse to do "everything in moderation"

Today, as I ran from my physical therapist's clinic to my yoga studio, I was reminded of something that I can't afford to moderate: my courage. At one point, as I've shared, going to my PT's clinic ("my PT") for tune-ups was a challenge.  I wanted to be "better," and I thought that meant "having no need for any medical intervention."  As I've grown these past two years, becoming an athlete, a yogi, a 40-pounds-heavier, living, breathing woman, I've changed my mind. My PT is vital to my enjoyment of life, because she allows me to continue to be courageous.  She'll be there if I fall (as she's demonstrated oh-so-many times before).

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Why providers should hear my patient story

Why providers should hear my patient story

If you’re a provider who treats those who hurt, I urge you to stay above the chaos of pain’s wrecking ball.  You need to remain logical, focused on the end-goal and the pain science and the sensitivity of the patient’s nervous system.  You need to be willing to refer patients to other providers.  Be careful not to attempt treatments that are likely to worsen the patient’s suffering, simply because you’ve exhausted all other treatment modalities.

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Let's talk about sex. (+ vaginal pain + patient-provider communication)

Let's talk about sex. (+ vaginal pain + patient-provider communication)

For years, my pelvic pain prevented me from having the fun, spontaneous, gloriously cliché 20-something sex that my friends were enjoying. You know – the kind of sex that they gushed about at brunch.  Sex that was breaking their hearts and exhilarating their sense of liberated womanhood and adulthood.  Sex that their doctors were lecturing them about.  I couldn’t have that kind of sex because my vagina (and vulva and back and thighs) were excruciatingly painful.  That was my dirty little secret.

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Dealing with the disconnect between being "healthy" and "pain-free"

Dealing with the disconnect between being "healthy" and "pain-free"

I walked out the door of the clinic that day proud and nervous.  Was I really better?  She assured me that I was.  My doctor and husband and family and girlfriends assured me that I was.  So, I figured I’d take this “healthy” thing for a spin.

If health is a state of existing in perfect comfort and contentment, it was short lived.

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Demystifying "supported independence" as a treatment goal

Demystifying "supported independence" as a treatment goal

When I stopped seeing my PT regularly, I tried to avoid coming back in for visits.  I wanted to feel like I was actually healthy, and not relying so heavily on her help.  This sounds silly now, but at the time, I hadn’t gone more than a couple of weeks without PT for years.  But after seeing my health through this goofy construct for a few months, I began to understand that a much better goal is a state of “supported independence.”

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Encounters with the Disability Police: my illness, emotional support animal, and "be nice" mandate

Encounters with the Disability Police: my illness, emotional support animal, and "be nice" mandate

Others’ judgment and treatment of me transformed my own beliefs about the legitimacy of my illness. I unintentionally invalidated my own body’s experience of pain, and I’d allowed those who chastised me for “taking advantage” to usurp my right to be treated decently outside the confines of my own home.  In letting people like this dictate how I would care for myself while enduring unspeakable pain, I somehow lost ownership of my experience.

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Top 10 Girl Power Goods of 2016 (some oldies, all goodies): Inspire Santé's List

Top 10 Girl Power Goods of 2016 (some oldies, all goodies): Inspire Santé's List

These are my favorite lady products of 2016, but that doesn't mean they were all born in 2016.  They're the sweet little nothings that made an arduous year (all those POTUS debates, amiright?) just a bit better or comfier or happier.  So, without further adieu, enjoy!

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SEX: my candidate for 'word of the year' in 2017

SEX: my candidate for 'word of the year' in 2017

Sex proved a bit tricky to untangle. I looked it up in every dictionary in the house, but dictionaries are surprisingly and disappointingly silent on this point.  Maybe the anti-sex-ed lobby is in bed with Merriam-Webster, or maybe there are fears that sexing up (definition below) the dictionary would cause the mass removal of dictionaries from American family rooms and classrooms.  Even today, 20 years later, Dictionary.com provides a stunningly unhelpful definition.

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A 5-point plan for getting help with your 'down there' health

A 5-point plan for getting help with your 'down there' health

So you have pain with sex, or you leak urine when you sneeze, or you feel a bulge in your vagina, or you have chronic constipation or any other “down there” health concern.  Where do you begin?  Having suffered from pelvic pain and an assortment of related health issues for years, these are my suggestions for finding the right provider, getting the help you need, and speaking candidly about tough issues.

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Stop period-shaming women.

Stop period-shaming women.

My first period was dreadful from the first drop. I grabbed several pads and headed to my room with a tear-stained face. For the next few hours, until my mother returned home, I checked my underwear every few moments.  Each time that I saw blood, I changed the pad.  I think I probably changed it every 20 minutes until she came home.  I had no idea what I was supposed to do and was woefully unprepared for this moment. 

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“But you don’t look sick.”

“But you don’t look sick.”

I opened the driver door and was confronted with a wave of judgment and anger.  The man yelled at me: “can’t you see we are still getting into our car? You’re not even disabled! You shouldn’t even be parking there!” I flushed with embarrassment and became shaky.  And for the first time in my life, I yelled at someone in public. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You know nothing about me!”

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Sex after Pelvic Pain

Sex after Pelvic Pain

Sex after pelvic pain is f*#&ing scary (no pun intended). Nevertheless, I somehow DID find the courage to hop back in the sack, and I’m really glad that I did.  This time, it didn’t feel like my PT’s voice was in my head the whole time, narrating where my knee should go, whether my pillow was at the right height, and whether I should reapply my Lidocaine.

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