Th desire to write about this event arose recently, after being referred to the doctor reluctantly by a naturopath. I used to have the perfect skin, I mean the glistening, shining, clear and radiant type. I never worried, nor did I understand the frustration and grief that skin problems could cause other people. Because I had it easy.
PHOTOS OF SKIN FOUR YEARS AGO
However, about 2 years ago, I started to experience break-outs. They were small at first, just one, here or there, every now and then, nothing I couldn't handle. About one year ago, there was never a moment where I didn't have problems with my face. Three months ago my sister and I decided that the breakouts on my skin were now classed as acne. My breakouts were painful, they seemed to get worse with one glass of alcohol or sugar, which caused me further frustration and stress.
I made the decision to see a Naturopath, in fact, I can't believe I hadn't taken action sooner. There is a student clinic where I go to college in Brisbane at the Endeavour College of Natural Health. Students can get advice for as little as $15 dollars, so the universe had made it easy for me, really.
Questions were asked mainly around my diet and medical history. Due to my previous health history with my ovaries, and heavy periods, they assumed it was hormonal straight away. The Naturopath decided it was best to get a doctor's advice on the diagnosis, and wrote me a letter to give to the doctor. I already had what I needed to start looking for my cure and begin healing, the key word, hormonal. However, I was interested in following it up. So I booked an appointment in with my GP.
Before I describe the unsatisfactory consultation with my doctor the other day, let me explain to you how conventional medicine failed me for the very first time at the tender age of twelve, and how this failure resulted in the death, and removal, of my right ovary and fallopian tube.
When I was twelve years old, a grade seven student, I began to experience unusual stabbing pain in the lower right side of my abdomen. The pain wasn't hard to manage to begin with, and it would come and go maybe once a month. By the middle of the year the pain I was experiencing had doubled. I was in great amounts of distress, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night screaming for my mother who would rush me to the closest hospital. This pain would come about every two weeks. The night-staff doctors wanted little to do with me. Despite repeated visits complaining of intense pain, which, even as a twelve year old, I knew in my soul was not natural, the doctors would tell my mother that I was constipated, and sent me home with pain killers. This repeated for the next three months. There was one night doctor who did mention that it could be a cyst on my ovary, but refused to arrange a scan for me because of my age. I knew that I needed a scan, and I asked for one, but they never arranged it. One day, my pain reached a turning point, I could not longer move, I could only scream, the pain felt like it was vibrating as an invading pulse within every cell on my body. I couldn't even manage to feel the pressure of clothes against my body and lay naked, unable to move, in a fetal position on the bathroom floor. This time my mother knew she had to try a different approach and booked me in with a doctor, whom, reacted similarly to those that had seen me before, treating my pain as a a joke.
"Are you sure you aren't exaggerating?" They'd ask me. I could barely muster the willpower to reply, my body instinctively wanted to curl up into a ball.
The doctor decided to operate for appendicitis, grudgingly.
When I was finally opened up, what they found would shock them all. My ovary and fallopian tube were dead inside, now turning black and rotten. The cyst on my ovary had not burst, instead it grew so large that it became too heavy for my little ovary and twisted it, blocking off circulation to the ovary and fallopian tube. I lost a part of my femininity that day and I will never forget it. If someone had taken the time to arrange a scan, I might still have all of myself with me today.
We go to the doctors, but do we ever really leave healthier than when we went? Do we receive guidance on how to be the best version of ourselves? How to avoid getting sick? Perhaps we are satisfied with scans and tests that confirm we don't have terminal cancer.
I went to the doctor the other day for the first time in years, and it turned out to be not just futile, as I imagined, but actually insane. First of all I was told to go on the pill, which I label as the 'infertility' pill to try and clear my skin, as well as to go on fake iron to increase my levels. I tried to explain how my skin was clearing with Maca powder and that I was uncomfortable with going on the pill. To that she told me not to believe that the maca was working because there was no evidence for it. I left with a script likely to make me more toxic than when I walked in. When I seek out health advice I seek out how to increase my vitality, energy and radiance, not how to put more strain on my liver.
The consultation has left me with nothing but enthusiasm to go out there and find ways to cure my anemia and skin-health naturally. Looking back to my past, and forward to my future it is becoming clear to me that my previous loss and the current hardships that I am presented with, are only opportunities to better my health, and alleviate the frustrations of those who suffer just as I have.
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2 comments:
at: 22 April 2013 at 02:56 said...
darling, you have a touching story & thank-you for sharing. please have a look at iherb.com - there are some great organic & natural remedies on there. i was having problems with my skin & i'm on an organic skincare without chemicals that is clearing it up & i'm about to start taking evening primrose three times a day. my 'acne' is 'hormonal' too but i'm trying all the natural remedies i can. xxx
at: 24 April 2013 at 03:38 said...
Thank-you darling, I will add primrose oil to my regime as well!
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