Chapter 6 #2
The thought of willingly sticking something up my vagina makes me more than a little squeamish, but then I remind myself there are a lot of important things I need to be able to stick up my vagina (like tampons!), and I tell myself to woman up, and by then I think I’ve missed a couple key sentences, because now Kay is rolling up to the exam table and asking if that all sounds okay, and I’m saying yes, and then I’m putting my knees up, and now my private parts feel cold.
“I’m going to very, very lightly apply pressure to the sides of the opening. Let me know if you need me to stop.”
It’s the strangest sensation in the world.
I can feel the point of pressure where her gloved finger meets my entrance, but the reaction is deeper than that.
It’s like my entire core freezes, and I lose control of the muscles as they tighten, then tighten more, then relax when they can’t keep tightening, and then tighten again.
It sends a cramp shooting through my gut, but the feeling of not having control of my own body is worse than any pain.
“Okay—you’re doing great. I know it feels horrible. But I want you to breathe with me. Can you do that?”
I nod.
“Inhale,” she says, and we both inhale through our mouths.
“Exhale.”
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Your muscles are calming down,” Kay says. “Can you feel that?”
Not really.
“You control your breathing. You control your body. Focus on those pelvic floor muscles and imagine they’re melting into the table.”
Inhale.
Exhale.
In my mind, they heat up. They heat up like a ball of wax, melting as I channel more focus into the muscles. They spasm again, and I send more heat their way. They melt, and then seize up. And then I take a deep breath, and they melt again.
“How about now? How does that feel?”
“Better,” I admit.
“I’m going to insert my finger, just up to the first joint. Is that okay?”
I nod. Her finger starts to move, and my muscles respond, freezing up, and everything goes cold again, and—
“Breathe. You’ve got this. You’re in control.”
Inhale.
Exhale.
Melt it down.
It hurts. It’s uncomfortable. But I’m okay. And I am bigger than this pain.
“Yes,” Kay says. “Breathe through it. I’m going to stay here for a few minutes. Let’s see if we can get your body to forget it’s supposed to be freaked out, yeah?”
“I don’t think I’m going to forget,” I say, another cramp seizing my pelvic floor.
“How long have you lived in Boston?” Kay asks.
It’s a total non sequitur, but I don’t have the mental energy to unpack that. “A little less than a week. Well—I went to college here for four years, but then I moved home to Florida. And then I moved back last week.”
“And how has that been so far?”
I huff a laugh, which has the unintended consequence of tightening my core, which makes my muscles seize up.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Weird,” I finally say. “And unexpected.”
“Well, you’re here, so I’d say you can add productive to that list. You did something hard.”
We idly chat for another few minutes. I tell her about my new apartment; she tells me about the first apartment she lived in alone, a basement apartment infested with mice.
(I am now afraid of mice.) I tell her about my favorite things to do in Tampa; she tells me about the trip she and her brother took to visit their grandmother in Clearwater last year.
I tell her about the detective show I binged last month; she recommends a vampire show.
And five minutes later?
I have not forgotten about my cramping vagina.
But! It’s bearable. And that’s better than it was before.
Kay takes off her gloves, throwing them away. “You did great.”
“Yeah, sure.” I laugh. I can still feel a phantom finger inside of me.
Kay washes her hands, then wheels her chair back toward her desk, turning around to face me and crossing her legs.
“Do you have a partner?”
I snort. “Absolutely not.”
“You could, you know,” she says. “Plenty of people with vaginismus date. This doesn’t have to stop you from doing anything.”
“I’d say it’s stopping me from doing a lot, actually.” What am I going to do? Ask them if they want to stick an inch of their index finger inside of me?
“Sex can mean so many things that don’t just include penetration.”
“I know that,” I say. Intellectually, I know that. Duh.
I also know that I’ve gone on dates with three different guys who made it clear that they want to have P in V sex, and then none of them went on another date with me. So, more complicated in practice, I suppose.
“Good,” she says, eyeing me as if she doesn’t believe me.
(She probably shouldn’t.) “I know we talked about this earlier, but just to clarify. Are you interested in men? Or people with penises?” she asks, and I nod.
“Okay. So even with this pelvic floor therapy, it’s likely your first time having penetrative sex will still be uncomfortable.
The best way to combat that is by having your partner insert themself slowly, then waiting there while you do some breathing exercises and adjust your muscles.
That will make more sense once we start using the dilators, but that’s your preview of what we’re looking at.
I sometimes recommend partners help with the dilators as well.
So, if you ever end up in a situation where you want to talk more about what vaginismus looks like with a partner, you let me know, and we’ll talk through strategies. ”
I try to imagine it. Hey, would you mind just goin’ real slow?
Yep, and now that you’re in there, hold, please!
I need a second to do some meditation. So, if you can just chill and not move—yep, don’t even breathe—while I get adjusted, that would be super helpful.
And if you feel my vagina cramping, no big deal, that’s just me being in pain.
Or better yet: Yeah, these silicone penis-looking things? I stick them in my vagina! For physical therapy, not for pleasure. There’s nothing sexy about it. That being said, want to help me out by sticking one inside of me? I’ll even let you pick the one that’s closest in size to your dick!
“Whatever you’re thinking right now,” Kay says, “stop and take a deep breath.”
Inhale.
Exhale.
“You’re going to be okay,” she says.
“Okay.” My voice comes out mousy.
I might be okay, but I’m not okay to date. That much is clear.
Not that I was in a position to date anyone anyway. The only person I’ve ever had strong feelings for is barely even interested in me as a friend. But once I’m Doing Better….
“Let’s do this,” I say. “Let’s get my vagina adjusted.”
Kay cracks a smile, and Key Lime and Cobalt salute in the background.