Oh, so you thought the rant finished in just one blog? PAH. Think again my friends. In case you’re wondering wtf this blog is all about, then you’ll definitely need to catch up with my previous contraceptive coil blog post. I’ll give you some time to read that before I continue…
Sorted? Awesome. So you now know I wasn’t fucking happy. Let me pick up from day 6, where I marched into the clinic demanding unsavoury things, like, immediate coil removal. I must express that usually, I am a rational human. But the pain I had endured with this coil had beaten me. I wanted out. Well, I wanted it out to be exact. The conversation at the reception desk went something like this:
Oh hello, you were here only a few days ago, everything okay?
No, no it’s not okay. You need to get this out of me immediately.
Oh dear, I don’t think the doctor is here today to do coil removals…
No, no, you don’t understand. Now, today, now. I need it out. Now.
Okay, take a seat Miss Watson and I’ll see if Vicky is around to do it.
It was a small victory but I felt I had won by this point. I had a name… Vicky. Vicky was going to be my womb rectifier. I sat there for 10 minutes attempting to amuse myself on my phone when really, all I could focus on was my throbbing stomach. Fuck this fucking coil. Fuck the cramps. Fuck life.
But alas, my misery was not to end. Vicky calls me in to the room and the first thing she says is “Right, do you want to get pregnant?” I thought, obviously fucking not because I’VE HAD A COIL FITTED. If I chose a long term contraceptive method having decided I did in fact want to get pregnant, then I am the biggest retard on the planet. No Vicky, no I do not want to get pregnant love.
But she was a smart ass. Because after my swift reply, she then goes on to explain that if I get the coil removed now, that’s exactly what could happen. The silly little twatty sperm stay active up to 7 days in the womb and because I had had sex the night before, chances were high. So, coil removal could happen but then so could mini Nixalina. Ergo… coil needs to stay in for at least another 7 days AND I need to be sex-free to ensure I don’t get a mini-me during that time. Fine. Vicky, you won.
I leave full of anger…mainly at my boyfriend for having sex with me last night and filling me up with cum like a helium balloon. But the end is in sight…I just have to avoid his advances for a week and the coil can leave my life and I can become a human who feels ‘happy’ again. Saying that, we did fuck the very next night after insertion because, well, we’re a pair of animals. We take ‘inseparable’ to the next level. Yes, even in horrendous cramp pain, I had sex. Please don’t judge me, it’s this kinda behaviour that made me need the coil in the first fucking place.
So, what happened next? Well, two days later one of my girls was getting…erm…a copper coil for the first time. Same clinic too, just for extra misery. I warned her, she read my first blog, she even saw me stumbling along to the lift clutching my stomach right after it happened. Would she change her mind? Course not. So the day she went to get Satan shoved up inside her, I made sure I was around ready with hot water bottle and TLC.
But guess what happened?
SHE WAS FUCKING FINE.
Nay, she was more than fine…she was walking, talking and even done some lunges in the lounge for good measure, as proof of how super fine she was. She felt next to nothing. Aside from the discomfort of the speculum, she breezed it. I wanted to be a dear supportive loving friend but, my anger at her lack of pain was too much to hold in. In fact, I said if she carries on lunging around the room I’ll punch her in the ovaries myself.
So let me get this straight – we’re both childless, mid twenties, same method same clinic even the same nurse, yet I felt like I was dying and still couldn’t function a week later but she could have literally skipped out of the clinic if she so desired. Didn’t even bother popping any painkillers. Cool.
So you see, I HAD to write this follow up blog because I now feel like I’ve misled you all into thinking that my experience of Satan’s coil will happen to everyone. Clearly, it doesn’t. Some women, you lucky cunts, will be able to go about your day afterwards as if you’ve just had a light blow-dry. The other lot of you, my camp, will regret your decision to life.
However, there is a light at the end of this cervix tunnel. Having been forced to wait another week, I had unknowingly given my body the actual time it needed to ‘accept’ I now had Satan living inside of me. The pain started to decrease and the cramps were lighter. I even started to divorce my relationship with ibuprofen. And finally, when the day came round where I could in fact have my coil removed…I didn’t want to. I had embraced my savage 666 baby. I know I know, I’m a nightmare.
Whilst I will never say that it was a walk in the park, I might admit I did slightly overreact. It was more an impatience issue truth be told. I couldn’t see the woods for the trees…and had I removed it on day 6, I’d have been full of regrets knowing I could have waited just a few days more for it to settle.
Now, I’ll admit, it’s one of the best decisions I made. I have no cares or worries about whether he cums inside, I have no concerns when the doctor says ‘any chance you could be pregnant?’ and I have no ‘shit did I forget my pill’ panic moments. Worth every damn tear I tell you. God love ya copper coil, cos I fucking well do.