Coast Chronicles: Body politics
Published 8:57 am Monday, May 20, 2024
- Ocean Beach Hospital gift shop board president David Hoch, and shop buyer, Karen Hoch.
I live in a female body and have been very satisfied with it overall. There are just a few isolated incidents when it has forsaken me. One of those arrived a couple weeks ago when at 4:47 a.m. a pain in my lower left abdomen woke me. One always thinks, when the body interrupts itself to complain, “Oh, this will go away.”
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Well, it didn’t. The pain increased and finally I called a dear friend to transport me to the ER. While there — on a gurney, post CT-scan with dye — a sudden excruciating pain hit me like a tornado. It went on and on. I would have given this a 12, on the standard pain scale of one to 10, if I could have uttered a word. But my mouth was otherwise occupied in producing loud screeching sounds that even I could not recognize.
I would have given this a 12, on the standard pain scale of one to 10, if I could have uttered a word. But my mouth was otherwise occupied in producing loud screeching sounds that even I could not recognize.
Finally a couple doses of morphine were delivered and, at last, I had several hours of that kind of quiet floaty desperation one can have in the hospital: prone, half “dressed” in a charming gown, label on one’s wrist, devices on a finger and upper arm, tubes in veins, machines whirring and clicking, the hustle and bustle of medical talk and activity just outside the door. It’s the kind of time that allows one to mull over existence, self, the future, the intricacies of the body, and small worries — like, how badly do I need to pee?
At the other end of the day the medical staff, some apologetic, some just tired, said they could find no reason to keep me. So I was bundled up and sent home to ponder one of life’s little mysteries — what is going on inside my body?
A women’s world
We rarely think of our bodies unless they are misbehaving. We take for granted all the various and miraculous systems that interact with each other smoothly and efficiently over the course of a day, a month, a year — delivering oxygen, taking away waste, healing wounds, providing information to our brains, growing hair on our heads, nails on our toes and fingers. But I had experienced some kind of breakdown in my systems, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it.
A few days passed as I thought about that pain. Then I remembered a surgery I’d had in 1995 for the removal of my right ovary (because of a cyst) and appendix. Because I’m a writer, I‘d written about this experience, and I went back to look at my notes. I’d reproduced the entire surgical report where it was noted that a cyst on my left ovary had also been removed, though that ovary was retained. Then I looked at some internet research indicating that a ruptured ovarian cyst is exceptionally painful. Aha…
I’d been tended to by three very nice, very competent male doctors. But not one had thought that, as a woman, I had an ovary in that lower left abdominal quadrant, the exact location of my pain.
Women’s bodies and medicine
It’s obvious that women’s bodies are different than men’s; we carry the furtherance of the species in our wombs. But research on female bodies is notoriously lacking in medical or pharmaceutical trials, or in many kinds of in-depth disease studies. Just last month there was an article headlined, “Why We Know So Little About Women’s Health,” (tinyurl.com/3kdf93zv). As stated, “Throughout history, doctors have considered women’s bodies atypical and men’s bodies the ‘norm.’”
Yep. My mother had an experience that perfectly illustrates this dilemma. She was diagnosed with breast cancer late in life and post-chemo was sent home with instructions recommending she drink X number of ounces of water every day. She followed the instructions to the letter and in two days had washed out all her electrolytes and salts, a condition called hyponatremia. She couldn’t walk or talk and ended up in the hospital until a woman nephrologist figured out what was going on. Her post-chemo instructions were standardized for an “average male” of around 200 pounds. Mom weighed barely 100.
If a woman is pregnant or having reproduction issues, there’s some attention paid to her female parts. (And, I might also add, only then do we have men deciding if women can have control over their own reproductive bodies. Supreme Court — I’m looking at you guys.) But if a woman is post-menopausal, if our baby-making years are over, we fall off the page. I realized I hadn’t had a vaginal exam or a pap smear for decades. (I’ve since discovered the Women’s Health Center in Astoria, 503-338-7595 — a fantastic resource for gynecological care.)
So post-ER visit, I’m now experiencing procedures that breach the various orifices of the body in order to look into the mysteries of my interior. It’s a humbling journey, and one that has produced enlightening information. Our medical system — despite the necessity of wrangling with insurance companies rather than simply taking the doctors’ advice — is one that employs an incredible array of tools, proficiencies, and techniques. I’m reminded that when one is hurting, that’s when assistance, kindness, and loyalty is most needed and I’m grateful for the bounty I’ve received. My doctors have been knowledgeable, concerned, and skilled. I’ve been brought low, but I’ve also been raised up.
Women and nature
These life trials have also gotten me thinking, again, about the planet and our connections to it. Women’s bodies are built to respond to the earth’s natural cycles. I’ve been reading a fabulous book lately — Our Moon: how earth’s celestial companion transformed the planet, guided evolution, and made us who we are, by Rebecca Boyle. She points out that female menses corresponds with the moon cycles, something we know but easily forget.
We’re all familiar with the many Venus figures that have been discovered in archeological digs around the world. Boyle cites one in particular: the Venus of Laussel, an 18-inch limestone carving from a Paleolithic culture perhaps 25,000-29,000 years old. The Laussel Venus has wide hips, pendulous breasts, and is holding a bison horn. The original carving was covered in red ochre, and the horn is inscribed with thirteen notches representing either the phases of the moon or the cycles of a woman’s menses, or both. That these Venus carvings represent fertility seem obvious.
There is evidence that the bodies of even post-menopausal women are still responding to the moon. I’m always happy when I first see that crescent winking in the night sky, and I mark the days until “she” is full. All in all, these body challenges have provided me with lots to mull over. Life rolls along and every stumble seems to remind me to slow down and be grateful.
Hidden gem
Another treasure in this rough patch has been my discovering the small but well-appointed hospital gift shop just inside the waiting room at the Ocean Beach Hospital in Ilwaco. It’s a labor of love run by volunteers, outfitted with snacks, crafts, gift items, and unusual art objects: weavings, paintings, jewelry, and quilts. President of the shop board is David Hoch; the main buyer is Karen Hoch; other board members include Sandie Johnson (treasurer); Lorrie Haight (secretary); and Ruth Walker (substitute).
Donated proceeds from the shop — more than $10,000 annually — have provided hospital purchases like a cafeteria ice maker, waiting room furniture, cardio-pulmonary department rowing machine, hand-held ultrasound device, and diabetes prevention program scholarships, among others.
The shop is open from Monday through Thursday 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Stop by sometime — it’s well worth a visit. Simply check in with the folks at the hospital’s front desk. It’s a surprising gem in an unlikely place; and just another reminder that the world is full of hidden treasures — apparent if we simply stop for a moment and take the time to look around.