Things That I Found Do Not Decrease Pelvic Pain (Or how I learned that Sterile Pus is a thing)

You know when you have a really gnarly pimple, and it starts to hurt, and even though you know you shouldn’t touch it, you can’t help yourself because you know the moment it pops it’s going to feel so much better?

That was the feeling I had about my vagina bump. Especially after expelling pus in a doctor’s office.

I really appreciate everyone who asked me if I saw the pus. The answer is no; I didn’t think to ask when I was in the office the first time, and I couldn’t recreate the situation at home. It wasn’t from lack of trying though – I spent a lot of time trying to catch a glimpse with a hand mirror. I was really optimistic that I was going to be able to pop that sucker like a zit and I would finally be nodule free. (Spoiler alert. That didn’t work.) I also spent a lot of time trying to decide if I thought the nodule was actually attached to my urethra, which I did by urinating with my (gloved!) finger on the nodule to see if it would get wet. (This also did not work. I have terrible urinary accuracy as it is, and now with a bump and an overactive pelvic floor the spray was out of control.) I mention all of this, not to make it clear how much time I spent in the bathroom during this period, nor to suggest that you also perform scientific experiments on yourself. I say this to point out: 1. how obsessed I was with my vaginal bump at that time. 2. How sure you can be that something is the root of the problem and be wrong.

I was so sure this vagina pimple (as I now thought of it) was going to be the solution, but the reality is that I didn’t get any feeling of relief from the initial pus expulsion. It didn’t make the nodule any smaller. It didn’t change any of my symptoms.

You know what did change my symptoms? Pulling on my labia open to try to visualize the bump/ my stream of urine. Poking the bump, trying to pop it. Spending every waking moment wondering whether or not this bump was ever going to go away. (Spoiler alert number 2: the change in my symptoms was not for the better.)

And after all of that? The cultures taken came back negative – the phrase the nurse used was that it was “sterile pus”. I completely realize that sounds like an oxymoron. What it means is that that they took the sample of pus, put it on some type of growth medium, and tried to see if it would grow anything – bacteria, mainly. (That’s a way more advanced science project than the ones I was running with latex gloves and a hand mirror.) It didn’t grow anything. As far as they could tell, there wasn’t anything in that nodule that would explain my symptoms, which is what the doctor told me when I went in for a follow up. My vagina bump was still an enigma.

So what was her suggestion? Do nothing. See the pelvic floor physical therapist to help with the over-activation of my pelvic floor since the surgery, and leave the nodule right where it is. She was concerned about any intervention (including urethral dilation or surgical removal of the nodule) that could pose a threat to my continence mechanism. Yes, I was uncomfortable, and I had weird smelling cloudy pee, and I always felt like I had to go to the bathroom, but at least I could control my bladder.

For as excited as I had been after my first appointment with her, I was in an equal amount devastated after this one. I barely made it to the parking garage before erupting into tears of the body shaking, nose running, wailing variety. Her parting words to me were to give me the name of another specialist – “the only person who might know more than me”. I was hopeless. I felt doomed.