Wait, Now I Don't Have Vulvodynia?

My senior year of college I found an “expert” vulvodynia. After poking around for a remarkably short time, she informed me that I didn’t have vulvodynia; I had vulvar vistubulitis, a condition where your vagina is in constant spasm. She told me that was why I had the most unbearable pain with penetration. She said I wasn’t a candidate for surgery or medication, but she told me I would need to undergo physical therapy.

I went home and cried after that appointment. I couldn’t think of anything more humiliating than having to work my vaginal muscles on the fingers of a stranger. That’s incredible private. It’s one thing to lie back, space out and have a pelvic exam, but it’s another thing to be working with the medical professional who has her hand in you.

I didn’t want to do it. I felt completely hopeless. I wanted it to be something straightforward. I know this sounds terrible, but I wanted it to be cancer. Cancer you can treat, cancer you can remove. In my mind, there was nothing I could ever do to make this go away.