I Have PCOS: A Male’s Perspective

I asked my boyfriend if he would be interested in writing a blog post for the site.  I thought it would be interesting to get a man’s perspective on what it was like to hear that I have PCOS.  This is what he wrote:

I found out that Stephanie had PCOS when she shared the first entry in this blog with me.  We had only been dating for a few weeks at the time, but it seemed like we were getting more serious. I knew I wanted what we had to develop into a real relationship, and Stephanie must have felt the same way because she made it a point of telling me about her PCOS before we went any further.

One of the things about Stephanie that had attracted me most was her open, up-front honesty, so my first reaction to this news was that she was remaining true to form.  It obviously came as something of a shock to hear that she had any kind of health issue – especially one I had never heard of before – but reading her blog and researching other information about PCOS helped me better understand what she was dealing with.  I guess the worst feeling was knowing that I couldn’t really do anything to help.  I know that sounds totally cliched – something anyone would feel when they find out a friend or loved one is dealing or has been dealing with any kind of problem – but I suppose cliches wouldn’t exist if they weren’t true to some extent.  Beyond that, I was actually happy that Stephanie trusted me enough to tell me.  She made it clear that if we were going to be together, I had to know her PCOS story and that if after knowing it, I decided that being with her was something I didn’t want, then she would understand – though she did point out that such a decision would be my loss.  Even though she meant it half-jokingly, that statement seemed like one of the most obviously true ones she could have made: if I were shallow, stupid, and short-sighted enough to not want to pursue a future with Stephanie purely because of her PCOS, to reduce her to such a small factor over which she really had no real control, then I would be missing out on getting to know who she really was, and I wouldn’t be someone who was worth her time.

While PCOS has obviously affected her life in a significant way, it doesn’t change who she is or how I feel about her.  If anything, the way in which she has chosen to deal with it – refusing to let it keep her from doing what she wants to do, trying various ways to manage it, and learning as much about it as she can not only for her own benefit but also to help educate and support others dealing with it through this blog – has only made me more impressed with and attracted to her.  I hope, as I know she does, that this blog will help other women realize that their PCOS doesn’t define them and that anyone ignorant to believe otherwise is not deserving of their time and energy.

I Have PCOS: My Drug Induced Truth

You can blame it on the drugs.  My PCOS admission is directly correlated to my Oxycodone high.  Well, that’s what I blaming it all on anyway.

I guess I should explain…

Back in April, I had been dating someone for about a month when I had to get my wisdom teeth removed.  By this point, things had been going well between us.  We had both made a point to be as honest as possible with each other and try to not make all the same mistakes we had made in our previous relationships.  Of course, that whole honesty thing was not exactly something I excelled at when it came to relationships with the opposite sex, but times were changing.   At the time, I had told my therapist that I needed to tell him about the PCOS, because he wouldn’t truly know me until he knew my past.  She encouraged me to tell him, but only if I wanted to and only when I felt the time was right.  I had no idea when that would be, so I waited for that time, and then got the push from a bottle of prescription drugs.

Indeed, while I was having my teeth yanked from my mouth, my boyfriend was 2,000 miles away visiting a friend.  A day later, while I was riding out the pain with Oxycodone, I decided to send him an email.  This is the email:

This is probably the drugs making me type this email, and I’ll probably regret my decision in the morning, but here it goes anyway… I started a blog a year and a half ago to work out shit I had been dealing with for over half my life. Just some annoying insulin related condition that is an awful motherfucker – especially when you’re a 15 years old girl. The blog ended up being the starting point for me to truly and finally begin to heal old wounds, and actually help some other young women in the process.The reason I’m telling you this is because I just want to be honest with you. And truthfully, I’ve never told a guy I was dating about this. And even though we haven’t known each other for all that long – in some ways it feels longer because I feel like there is this undercurrent of truth that we’ve somehow managed to cut to the heart of. And I want to continue to be honest with you. And for you to truly understand who I am and where I came from — you must know my story.

Hopefully, this won’t scare you off, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take so you can know more about me. And if after reading the blog you don’t want to have anything to do with me – that’s ok too! No hard feelings. And really, it will be your loss that you can’t see all my awesomeness (and my non-awesome flaws too!).  Anyway, here is the link to the first blog post. I would suggest starting at the beginning and working your way to the most recent so it makes sense. https://suckitpcos.wordpress.com/2012/01/06/another-blo/ 

So, I hit the send button on my email and went back to sleep.  And then, the next morning I awoke and was positively mortified by what I had done.  The whole thing seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that I was more cognizant of my actions – I was horrified.  So horrified, in fact, that I couldn’t even check my email or phone messages for fear of what I would find.  But then I had a conversation with myself that with something like:

Logical Stephanie: Why are you being such a wimp about all of this?

Illogical Stephanie:  Ah, cause it’s scary, man.  I mean, I sort of just revealed A LOT of myself to this person.

Logical Stephanie:  Big deal. If it scares him off – he’s a piece of shit and not worth your time.

Illogical Stephanie: In theory, yes, but still…

Logical Stephanie: But still nothing.  Man up and own this shit!

Illogical Stephanie:  Why are you so mean to me?

Logical Stephanie:  I don’t know.  Why are you so mean to yourself?

Illogical Stephanie: Shut up!

Logical Stephanie: No, you shut up.  And don’t tell me to shut up.

Ah, so yeah.  It sort of went like that.  But finally, I did summon the courage and decided to turn on my phone and email and see what I would find.  And sure enough I had a bunch of text messages from the man in question.  And guess what?  He was not scared off at all.  He said I wasn’t responsible for the PCOS and there’s no reason why it would stop him from liking me.  After all this time… All this build up about finally admitting the PCOS stuff to a guy I was in a relationship with – the whole thing was basically a non-event.  Seriously, it was totally underwhelming.  Which, in this particular case is a good thing.

And since then, it has remained a non-event.  And now he knows my truth and I don’t have to hide or be ashamed about anything.  All the secrecy and shame is gone.

Poof.

I’ve heard from many young women on this site who are afraid to tell their boyfriend or spouse about their PCOS.  I hope this post gives these women a little bit of hope that it doesn’t have to be so awful.  Of course, the guy may not be as understanding about the PCOS, but if that’s the case – he’s not worth it and doesn’t deserve you!  I know that’s hard to believe now, but it is the truth.  And I don’t think there’s one right way to have the conversation.  And I certainly don’t encourage you to make the decision while under the influence of pain killers.  But ultimately, it just matters that you say it.  Drugs or not.

Back to Blogging… Almost

Clearly,  I’ve been a bit remiss in my blogging duties here on the site.  Well, if we’re being honest, I’ve just plain ol’ sucked.  But I’m back and ready to tackle this whole blogging thing again… well, almost.  I’m leaving for vacation at the end of week, and I’ll likely be tied up until the end of August.  However, starting in September, I’ll be back on track and blogging regularly.

So, what’s been going in my world?  A lot, really.  And hard to sum it all up in a quick blog post here on the site.  I’ll likely be blogging about much of these things in the coming weeks/months.  But for now, here is just a quick recap of some of the things that have happened:

• I finally broke the curse and made it to the dentist (something the PCOS prevented me from doing for over 10 years!)
• I had a bunch of medical tests run and my numbers were great (finally proof for myself that I’m making the right choices in my life and how I’m treating the PCOS)
• I completed my 5th Fraxel laser (And yes, it still SUCKS!)
• I met a guy and fell in love (and best of all – I was totally honest and told him about the PCOS and he didn’t run away!)
• I moved… again (second move in 6 months).
• Oh, and I didn’t just move… I moved in with my boyfriend (I finally opened myself up enough to live with another guy.  Crazy, right?!)

I told you I have lots to blog about.

I certainly can’t believe everything that has been happening, especially when you look at the blog posts from the early days of this site. Lord knows Old Stephanie certainly wouldn’t have been able to tackle all these changes.  But times, they are a-changing.  And I’ve been living my life without the bad thoughts, and without the PCOS defining my life.  I’m just living.

I’m just living…

Erasing PCOS

Ok, so the title is actually a bit misleading.  I don’t mean erasing in the riding yourself of PCOS sort of way (if only it was that easy!). What I do mean is that there is talk in the medical community about giving PCOS a new name because, “the name PCOS is a distraction that impedes progress. It is time to assign a name that reflects the complex interactions that characterize the syndrome.”   This same doctor goes on to say that, “the right name will enhance recognition of this issue and assist in expanding research support.”

I’m not sure how I feel about this.  On one hand I do think the name is not at all characteristic of the whole condition itself.  But are any diseases/syndromes completely indicative of what they actually are?  Also, I feel like it’s already taken so long for people the medical community and the rest of us to understand and hear about PCOS.  And even now, it’s still a far way off from it being something that everyone knows about and understands.  But if we go ahead and change it now, is that going to set the clock back even further?  Are we going to lose even more ground on the PCOS awareness front? If we go ahead and change this to something else, will it make it harder for people to keep up the disorder?  I really don’t know.  I just can’t imagine what we would change it to that would somehow make it easier for people to know what PCOS is.

But I do see the other side to this as well.  And perhaps a different name would indeed help more women get diagnosed.  As one doctor puts it, “Patients read into the name and just think, ‘Okay, this is about my ovaries, it’s really not about anything else.”

However, for me the real issue is awareness. The actual name of the syndrome is completely irrelevant.  But we do need education about what the syndrome is – what it looks like – what it does to your body – ways to get help, etc.  That is what we should be focused on.  Whether it’s called PCOS or Syndrome X – it affects way too many women (5 million in America alone) for this to be something we all must suffer through silently.

What do you ladies think?  Any thoughts on the name change?  Do you think your treatment and/or diagnosis was in any way hindered by the name?

To read the full article you can click here.

The Power of Vulnerability

Vulnerability is the core of shame, and fear, and our struggle for worthiness. But it appears that it’s also the birthplace of joy, creativity, of belonging, of love…

I’ve been on a TED kick as of late, listening to a wide range of speaker and topics, hoping to find inspiration and ways to improve my life.  This morning, I stumbled upon Brené Brown’s talk entitled “The Power of Vulnerability,” and I simply had to share.  While her talk has nothing to do specifically with PCOS, I think her words may ring true for many women who suffer from the condition. It took me 15 years to be vulnerable and allow myself to open up to others about the PCOS.  It took me half my life to figure out how to show the world who I really am – warts and all. It took me a really long time to feel worthy of love and acceptance, and I think these are familiar feelings to some PCOS sufferers.

Brené Brown makes a career out of studying human connection and she set out to research what separated people who have a strong sense of self and belonging from those who struggle for it. Her research found that, “…People who have a strong sense of love and belonging believe they are worthy of love and belonging.  That’s it.  They believe they are worthy.”

They believe they are worthy.  Imagine that?

I’ve spoken frequently on this blog of how unworthy I felt over the course of my PCOS journey. How I allowed the PCOS to rob me of any sense of worthiness and normalcy.  And from reading the comments on this site and the emails I’ve received – I know many of you feel (or felt) the same way at one time or another.

So, what did these whole-hearted people living with a sense of worthiness have in common? Brown suggests a few things:

• Courage: The courage to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart, and the courage to be imperfect.

• Compassion: The compassion to be kind to ourselves first.  We can’t practice compassion with other people if we can’t treat ourselves kindly.

• Connection: The willingness to say I love you first… to do something where there are no guarantees.

Courage, compassion and connection – There was a time when I was desperately failing at all three of those damn things.  I certainly didn’t have the courage to tell my story.  I was embarrassed by my story. I was terrified of ever revealing who I was and what was happening to me.  I was afraid to show the world how imperfect I was.  And, while I had no problem practicing compassion on others – I certainly wasn’t practicing it on myself.  I love that Brown says you have to be compassionate to yourself first before you can be kind to others. How many of us are doing that? And how many of us are opening ourselves up to the people in our life and letting them in on what is going on?  It was only one year ago when I was finally at a point to make that connection and tell someone in my life, despite the fact that I had no idea what would come of it and how they would respond.  There were no guarantees.

So, how exactly do we become vulnerable?  According to Brown we must:

• Allow ourselves to be seen – deeply seen, vulnerably so. 

• We love with our whole hearts, even though there are no guarantees.

• Practice gratitude and joy.

• Believe that we’re enough! When we work from a place that says I’m enough, we stop screaming and start listening.  And we become kindler and gentler to ourselves.

Really powerful stuff.  And I could really go on and on about Brown’s talk, but I’ll spare you all from that.  However, I highly recommend the twenty-minute talk (you can download it and listen to it on your mp3 player while you’re on the go!).  I promise it will be worth the investment.

Fraxel #4 Spoiler Alert: Still Awful!

Ah, Fraxel.  How I dislike you so.  Well, not really, I just disapprove of how much you freaking hurt!  Why, oh why, must you feel like someone is stabbing me in the face with knives?  Indeed, with four Fraxel treatments under my belt, I am unhappy to report that the pain still sucks.  I guess that’s not actually surprising.

On the plus side, I can say that I’ve definitely seen some improvement with my scars.  Not a huge amount, but some.  And considering I wasn’t expecting to see anything until at least the fourth treatment, I was pleasantly surprised to notice improvement after Fraxel number three.  I think I probably still only see the bad with my scars and how far I still have to go to see the improvements I so desire, but it helps to hear from Bridget my electrologist who can offer actual testimonial to the improvements (and she knows – she sees my face without makeup under hideous fluorescent lights every week).  It takes about three months after each treatment for collagen to rebuild and to see maximum improvement, so it likely won’t be until the end of April when I see the full results from Fraxel #4.  I’m hoping to be able to get in another treatment between now and then, but we’ll see if that happens.

I’ve received a few emails from the blog asking if I thought the Fraxel was worth it.  For me, if I had to make a decision right now – the answer is yes.  However, I think it’s still too early for to make a final assessment about this.  My goal is to have six Fraxel’s, with the final two to be completed by May.  Once I’m done with that and have had a few months for the skin to do what it needs to do – then I will write about my final results with the Fraxel and whether or not I was able to see any significant improvement.  My fingers are crossed and I shall remain optimistic that it was worth the financial and physical investment.

One Year Later…

Exactly one year ago today I posted my first blog post on Suck It, PCOS!  It was the start of a brand new year and I had little idea of what was in store for me on my journey with PCOS.  Looking back on 2012 from the sidelines of 2013, I cannot believe how far I’ve come in just one year.  I spent fifteen years of my life being defined by the shitty syndrome, and yet, over the course of this past year, I was able to change that.   I was able to take my life back and think of myself and my life without the context of the PCOS.  It was by no means easy, but I was able to do it nonetheless.

The timeline looked something like this:

• I started the year by finally confiding in a friend that I had PCOS.  This was the first real conversation about the condition I ever had with another non-medical person about what I had been dealing with in secret for half of my life.
• I started this blog.  After telling my friend about my struggle with PCOS, I felt like I had more to say and I needed an outlet to begin processing all the thoughts and feelings I had kept buried inside for so long.
• I started weekly electrolysis sessions.  Instead of having to contend with laser hair removal forever, I made the decision to invest in the time commitment to take care of the problem permanently.
• I started therapy.  This was one of the hardest things I had to do.  First, it was admitting that I needed to ask for help (something I absolutely hate doing), and then it was actually finding someone I felt comfortable enough asking help from.  The sessions were pretty brutal, especially in the beginning, and it took me a couple of months to realize the sessions were actually helping, but now I can’t imagine how I would have made it this far without it.  Therapy can be one hell of an internal beating, but when you make it to the other side, it’s kind of fantastic.
• I started telling a few more people… It was getting easier to confide in people.
• Before leaving to Ethiopia, I told most of all of my close friends and family.  The secret that I had been carrying around for so long had lost its value.  The secrecy and shame associated with the PCOS was gone.
• I spent three weeks in Ethiopia and didn’t think about the PCOS once.  I was able to live my life during that time without being defined from the condition or by basing my self-worth on it.
• Having recently returned from my trip, I had my a-ha moment during therapy and realized I was going to be okay.  That I had beat the PCOS.  That I was done being defined by the shitty syndrome.
• I started Fraxel procedures for my acne scars.  I had thankfully reached the point where I knew I could love myself with or without the scars, but it was something I still wanted to do.  I’ve completed three so far, and will finish out the rest of them this year.

I’d like to think that 2012 was the year I did all the heavy lifting.  It was the year I had to clean out the cob webs and start cleaning up the the unkempt piles that had been neglected for years.  Sure, there will always be some general maintenance to attend to, but the worst of it is over.  I put in the work and the time and can feel comfortable in my own skin.  And my hope is that each of you searching for your own PCOS victories this year will be successful.  I hope you know that you are not alone in your struggle.  I hope you know that it gets better.   I hope you know that there is a whole community of people who don’t know you, but who are on the sidelines rooting you on every step of the way.  And more than anything, I hope you realize how beautiful and valuable you are.   And I know that last part can be hard to digest, but believe me when I tell you,  it’s absolutely true.

You have to do it yourself, but you don’t have to do it alone…

I still remember that saying from a student run club back in middle school.  It was based on the idea that you have to do the dirty work and get all muddy – but you don’t have to do it alone.  I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately as the year comes to a close and I look back on how far I’ve come this past year.  How far my relationship with PCOS has come.  But I didn’t do this alone.  In fact, I wouldn’t have made it this far without the love and support from my friends and family.  And it took me about awhile to realize her importance, but I certainly couldn’t have had all these a-ha moments without the guidance from my therapist.  Of course, I had to do the dirty work. I had to be the one who ultimately decided to seek out a therapist. I had to make that call.  I had to show up on all those Fridays when I would have preferred getting a root canal because the idea of spending an hour hashing out and working through all my stuff, was really more than I thought I could bear.  But I did it and I’m now so much the better for it.

A friend of mine recently posted a blog about something in her own life she is struggling with.  In the blog, she discussed the fact that her sister was going to act as her sponsor to help her as she worked through certain issues in her own life.  Her sponsor would act as a sounding board, her trusted confidant, and ultimately, her biggest fan.  My friend has to be the one to navigate through all the feelings that are surfacing and be strong and work through it all, but she doesn’t have to do it alone.  She has cheering squad standing by and rooting her on.

You have to do it yourself, but you don’t have to do it alone…

I was silent about my PCOS demon for half of my life.  For fifteen years I chose to navigate the PCOS and everything else entirely on my own.  I didn’t have a sponsor or a trusted friend to confide in.  Not because there was no one in my life I could turn to, but simply because I chose not to.  I chose to go the road alone.  But then I think of this year and I think about confiding in my friend H on the 1st of January and how that became the catalyst for me getting to a place where I could tell other people, and now, I have a network of people in my life I can talk openly about the PCOS to.

Many of the women who have written to me on this site seem to be keeping the PCOS a secret from the people in their lives.  And like I once was, so many of you are scared, angry, frustrated, suicidal, embarrassed and/or hopeless. And I’m not saying that confiding in someone in your life about your condition will magically heal all of these feelings, but I do think it’s the start for a better and healthier road to healing. And when you are feeling all of this, imagine how it could feel to have someone in your life to remind you that you are awesome and that you are loved and that you will be supported on your journey.

I know it can be hard to think about getting to that place where you feel comfortable enough to be honest with someone in your life about what you are going through, but I am here to tell you that it will be worth it in the end.  It may very well seem murky and awkward and excruciating in the beginning, but once you do, you can have your sponsor and cheering squad to help you run that marathon.  To help you cross the finish line.

You have to do it yourself, but you don’t have to do it alone.

The Dating Dilemma

Let’s talk relationships.  Specifically, let’s discuss relationships with the opposite sex and how a woman with PCOS navigates that tricky line of when, and if, they should tell their partner about their condition.  I hesitate to even speak on this matter since I am in no position to discuss relationships.  Seriously, I’m not proud of this, but I’m about as dysfunctional in the relationship department as any one person can be.  If I can end a relationship without feeling the need to move to a new state and/or change my phone number – I consider that a victory (I’m totally not kidding!).   So, obviously I don’t have much of a leg to stand on in this department.  However, I’ve received a few emails on this very topic in the past few weeks, and I figured that meant it was time to actually do a blog post on the subject.

Relationships are hard.  And regardless of whether you have PCOS or not, we each bring our own set of baggage to the table.  Unfortunately, for some woman with PCOS, much of their self-worth and identity as a woman is tied to their body and everything that is not.  It is tied to all the ways they feel less than as a woman.  I’ve heard from so many women, particularly women in their early twenties, who hide their condition from their boyfriends.  They live in this paralyzing fear that their boyfriends will leave them for someone “normal,” and so they pluck, wax, shave, diet, take pills, won’t de-robe fully during sex, and they become anguished over the fact that they will not be able to have a child.  They will not be able to have a baby with their significant other and have the family they imagined.   Is this necessary the reality  that would happen for these women?  No, but that is what they believe.

No man would ever love me if they knew I had PCOS. 

That’s a comment I’ve read many times before.  And I used to believe that too.  I never ever thought that I could be loved because of  all my perceived defects.  How could a man love me? I failed… my body failed in all the ways our society values it.

It should come as no surprise that I have never told a man I’ve been in a relationship with about the PCOS.  A few times I’ve uttered something about having an “imbalance thing,” which is hilarious in its sheer ridiculousness and vagueness, but that’s as far as I got.  Much of this can also be attributed to the fact that I’ve basically spent most of my adult life avoiding serious relationships.  I’ve deliberately chosen people who I knew didn’t have long-term potential.  I didn’t need and/or want something that I knew could develop into something serious  – I liked keeping people at arm’s length – and that is where I remained for the past decade.

Some of this is from the PCOS, but a lot of it is from the fact that I am so stubborn and independent and I have no grasp of trying to find a balance in the we (but that’s a whole other blog post!).   I did, however, recently tell a male friend of mine, who responded in such an honest and hilarious way that it almost made me feel guilty for spending all those years in my self-loathing misery.  I can’t really  do justice to his response without the visuals, but it basically involved a smirk and a “huh” face, followed by him telling me that women don’t give men nearly enough credit and that the PCOS thing was so not a big deal.  And he went on to say that if any guy didn’t like me because of the PCOS then the guy was an idiot and not worth the time.

I know he’s right.  If I learned anything during the course of this past year, it’s that my body and I are worthy of love.   And I have to believe that when I am ready to finally take a real serious stab at this whole relationship thing – I will have to be forthcoming about the PCOS.  Even if it doesn’t affect me the way it once did, the PCOS has defined so much of my past and the person that I am today, that this person will need to know this.  He will need to know who I am… who I was.  And now that I have taken away the shame factor from the PCOS, it doesn’t have that same embarrassing hold over me that it once did.  Do I wish I didn’t have the PCOS and to have even have this conversation with  someone in the first place?  Hell, yeah!  But it is what it is.  And I simply cannot live my life in fear and shame and trying to hide my condition from this person.  How could you ever have an honest relationship with someone if you spend so much time hiding and living in shame?  Sure, there will be the guys who might want to run away and if you find yourself in a position where that person doesn’t want to be with you simply because of the PCOS – then they were never worthy of your love in the first place.   Because you deserve more than that.  We all deserve more than that.

Voluntary Torture: Fraxel #2

I feel that I did a disservice by writing about my first Fraxel experience.  I mentioned there was some pain and discomfort involved, but not too much.  And I fear that after reading the post you may have come away thinking your own Fraxel treatment would be just dandy (assuming you decided to go through with it).  Well, dear internet friends, I changed my mind.   FRAXEL IS MURDER!

OH. MY. GOD.

I actually just voluntarily paid someone to torture me.  Why, Stephanie, Why?!?!

Unfortunately, I have no one to blame for this except myself.  My doctor asked me right before the treatment if I would like to go up in levels (whatever that actually means).  My last treatment was done at a “66” and she said we could go up to “70” for this treatment.  I was in favor of the increase and the opportunity to see better and perhaps quicker results.  And besides, what possible difference can 4 degrees/levels make?  The answer?  A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT!!

Seriously, it was kind-of-sort-of excruciating.  The worst pain I ever endured was a kidney stone when I was 18.  I would say the pain from this Fraxel was like a cluster of kidney stones in the face, which I realize totally doesn’t make any sense, but it’s all I’ve got.  And as I’ve mentioned before on this blog,  I have a pretty high tolerance for pain.  But even armed with all of my I’m-Immune-To-Pain arsenal, the pain was off the charts.  And I  knew I was going to be in trouble from the start.  The way Fraxel works is the doctor will divide up your face and concentrate on one half at a time.  They will take the laser machine and go through one whole side of your face, pore by pore, and that constitutes a “pass”.  They do 5 or 6 passes of each side of the face.  And mid-way through the first pass I could feel the pain, and it only got worse and worse, with each subsequent pass.  By the time we got to the fifth pass, I was ready to jump out of my skin and knock out my doctor.

So, in my attempt to lessen the pain, or rather, ignore the pain, I decided to distract myself.  I tried to think of favorite books or movies and replay scenes or passages of text in my head, but that didn’t work.  Then I decided I should tell myself as many bad jokes as I could possibly remember.  But nothing came to me.  The pain was so distracting that I literally couldn’t focus on anything else.  Then I prayed to God to tell me some jokes.  But guess what?  God is totally not touring on the comedy circuit right now.  He/She is off dealing with wars, famines, and trying to understand why our society continues to support members of the Kardashian family.  So, I had nothing to work with.  Finally, I started saying the alphabet in my head, which was ridiculous on multiple levels and as you could imagine – didn’t actually work.

Thankfully, the treatment itself only lasted about 20 minutes (I’d say about 10 minutes for each side of the face), so it had to come to an end.  Eventually.

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Of course, immediately afterwards your face feels like it’s on fire and like evil circus clowns are throwing knives into your face, but hey, it’s still a more enjoyable feeling than the actual Fraxel treatment.  And now, I’m back home and am nursing a migraine and a swollen and painful face.

However, as painful as this morning’s treatment was, I will no doubt be headed back next month for treatment number three (although, next time I am going to be prepared with a litany of bad jokes at my disposal… and perhaps some drugs or alcohol to take away the pain… kidding… maybe).  I am a little worried that the swelling and redness will last longer this time since the setting was higher, which should make for a fun return back to work on Monday (and I can’t call out sick this time because I have to be there to film some presentation).  But I am not going to worry about that yet (do you think it would be weird if I showed up in the office wearing a Halloween mask… two weeks before Halloween?).   For now, my plan is to take some ibuprofen, crawl into bed, and crank call Chipotle enough times until they finally agree to deliver a brown rice bowl to my apartment.  Because after voluntarily choosing to get kidney stones of the face – sometimes you just need some comfort food… and some bad jokes.