Disclaimer/Warning: This post contains a frank discussion about specific female organs and sexual issues that some people may find too graphic, offensive, embarrassing, or personal. If you know me personally, you may feel awkward reading about these issues. Rest assured that if you are not embarrassed, I am not embarrassed. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.
Another problem that many women with ME/CFS have is vulvodynia -- or chronic vulvar pain (i.e., pain in the female nether regions). Not surprisingly, I have this condition.
First, some definitions from MedlinePlus , Mayo Clinic , and the University of Iowa . I picked these particular websites and definitions because they made things easy to understand. The terms I am defining are conditions I have, according to my gynecologist and the pelvic health center I visit for treatment.
Vulvar Vestibulitis (ves-tib′yū-lī′tis): a condition which causes redness and pain of the vestibule; an inflammation of this skin and the mucous secreting glands found in the skin.
I was diagnosed with all of these conditions by my gynecologist a little over a year ago, but it is only recently that I decided to really focus on these issues.
In hindsight, I have had vulvodynia and vaginismus as long as I can remember. As a teen, I could not use tampons because of the pain, and my annual gynecological exams have always been excruciating. I have had dyspareunia since becoming sexually active, and I only learned of my vulvar vestibulitis when my gynecologist observed inflammation and redness of unknown origin.
My husband and I have been married for almost six years, but we have never been able to have sex successfully. (My definition of successful sex would be sex with full penetration and without pain.) In fact, I could probably count on one hand the number of times per year we even attempt sex.
This issue is chock-full of spin-off issues. As you might imagine, the emotional toll is quite immense, as self-esteem, intimacy, and relationship issues flow abundantly. Of course, the physical toll is not a piece of cake either. The pain could be so terrible that it felt as though someone was pouring boiling water into my vagina while stabbing me with a serrated knife in the same place. I apologize for the graphic description, but I feel it is important for me to educate people who do not understand how debilitating this condition can be.
One of the main reasons I went so long without addressing my pain problems was because I was wrapped up with the rest of my health. In the grand scheme of things, being able to have sex seemed low on the list compared to all my other chronic health problems that reared their ugly heads on a daily basis.
The other reason things went on so long is because my previous gynecologist did not believe I had a real problem. I told her of my issues on every visit, but she just kept telling me to "go more slowly," "use more lubrication," and "stretch it out." She blamed my problems on my lack of sexual experience. I believed her, so I kept making an effort. Eventually, the pain became so excruciating that I stopped even trying.
I have to take a moment to mention what a wonderful husband I have. I suspect that there are not many young marriages that would survive chronic illness and no sex.
Fortunately for me, my previous gynecologist retired, and I got one who is very knowledgeable about pelvic pain. When I told my new gynecologist about my problems just over a year ago, she immediately diagnosed me and assured me that it was not my fault. She told me that I had a real medical condition and that it was not a matter of simply using more lubrication or "stretching it out." Imagine my relief to know it wasn't all in my head. (This situation reminded me of my CFS diagnosis.)
In my next post, I'll discuss the treatment options my gynecologist offered to me.