If the blog title wasn't enough, your TMI warning is now, otherwise read on for more tales from stranger lady parts tides...
I mentioned in a previous post about Bartholin's cysts and they've made my lady garden feel more like a dead man's chest this week.
It's not currently known for sure what causes them, but from my own experience, they pop up when I've been feeling stressed and/or tired.
Since I also suffer from the knicker torture that is Vestibulitis, it means painful cysts on my already sensitive flaps is a recipe for pain, soreness and general feelings of unloveliness.
It's not easy to feel nice and feminine when it feels like it looks like Davy Jones's Locker down there.
Sleep has not been easy when it's difficult to get comfortable and fear of moving much because of the resulting shooting pain in the never nethers.
Last night in particular was super fun* because old Barty decided to pop.
*Reader, it was not super fun.
I am very grateful that Adam wasn't squeamish and assisted me with a cold water cloth.
Although not without gifting me with some puns:
"If you incyst."
"It's a percystent problem."
"Sorry, I couldn't recyst."
Despite eating into my holiday entitlement, I decided to take the rest of the week as holiday. It's only a couple of days but it's still not ideal. I really didn't want to take sick leave if I didn't have to though.
A lot of my conditions and symptoms can be a bit of a mystery but at least this is one thing that I know that taking a few days for self-care is needed. Barty has appeared because I've been starting to feel rundown and empty.
Adam has been very caring and attentive, if over-zealous with the cyst puns; keeping me topped up with tea, making me laugh, and ordering a Chinese takeaway.
I'm glad to have some unexpected extra time off work. It takes some pressure off.
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