My Experience with Dysfunctional Uterine Bleeding

Artwork by Richard Kahwagi. Photos by Pawel Czerwinski and Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

It was only in 2019 that I found out about it. I winced in slight discomfort and pain as two bloodied latex gloved fingers re-inserted themselves between my legs. Looking up at the ceiling I sent a prayer to God hoping that the gynaecologist and the shadowing medical student did not find anything life-altering but would at least find an explanation as to why the last decade of my life for 7-10 days a month my vagina went through its own version of Armageddon.

It just so happened that my appointment coincided with my period hence why I was particularly tender down there and had the extra mess on the bed. After a few more uncomfortable minutes the gynaecologist retracted her sanguine drenched fingers from my friend downstairs, before telling me the check-up was complete and I may get myself dressed. 

Minutes later I was back sitting with the gynaecologist waiting anxiously for her to tell me what the verdict was. 

“What you have is a condition called dysfunctional uterine bleeding.”

Prior to that day, I had never heard of that term, but I was silently relieved that at the very least the demon lurking in my reproductive organs every month was finally being named and shamed. Dysfunctional Uterine Bleeding (DUB) or as its otherwise known, Abnormal Uterine Bleeding (AUB) is a term that denotes hormonal imbalance within a woman which means that someone like me bleeds heavily (also named, menorrhagia) during her menstrual cycle and experiences excruciating pain when not using painkillers.

Gynaecology appointments I had in the past always ended in frustration because even though I had ultrasounds, had been probed and pricked to understand what was going on they never could identify the issue, until that day at the gynaecologist’s office in Kingston Hospital.

For the first time in such a long time I felt seen and heard; I was not exaggerating my pain. My severe mood swings were indeed justified. The piercing throb in my back and pelvis that felt like I was being stabbed with a Ginsu knife was my body’s plea for help and so were the multiple, slimy, vermillion egg yolks that exited my vaginal walls whenever I walked or contracted a muscle.

Coming from a family of Nigerian women who also have challenging menstrual cycles I am all used to witnessing my mother, aunties, sisters, and female cousins battle with their menses. We all have just learned to suffer in silence. 

In the UK alone, a quarter of child-bearing age women within the population experience menstrual issues. Also, according to research  800,000 women seek medical treatment for their DUB every year and sadly only a third of these women report being satisfied with treatment that they receive. Further to this, black women are 10% more likely to have DUB than our white counterparts. 

It’s a debilitating and lonely experience. My experience with healthcare professionals when it comes to my DUB reflects the statistics. What hurts the most is the lack of empathy. I had not been taken seriously. This was the case for both male and female doctors. 

All I have ever been offered are birth control medications instead of painkillers to ameliorate the pain. Unfortunately, hormonal contraceptives are not a viable option for me. 

With that being said, of course the thought of being on painkillers for the next twenty-five or so years until I reach menopause is not the type of thing that anyone would be or should be happy about. Hence why for the last year or so I have been on a journey of exploring and researching holistic methods such as cupping for reducing pain and eating proteins which are good at re-calibrating my hormone levels.

It is important that during medical consultations black women feel heard. The reason why there is this false and dangerous notion that black women are better at handling pain is because often we are the worst at admitting when we need help. Therefore, it is imperative we are given the safe space and attention to understand what treatment would most suit our bodies. 

Instead of being reactive in prescribing medications that can disrupt a woman’s natural feminine rhythm, GPs and healthcare professionals should be conscious about creating a collaborative approach when consulting their female patients. It should be a discussion rather than a dictatorship on how we govern our bodies. 

That is the first step in making our health matter.

To find out more about Dysfunctional Uterine Bleeding visit: https://www.advancedgynecology.com/condition/dysfunctional-uterine-bleeding/