Well, things got a bit chaotic last month and I found myself far too distracted and anxious about an upcoming surgery to think at all about posting to this blog.

You’d have thought that with two surgical procedures in my back pocket already, that I’d have approached it all as cool as a cucumber. That didn’t happen.

At all.

I’m not ashamed to say, that when I arrived at the hospital and was shown to my bed, that I had a wee moment to cry. But goodness, I have so much respect, love and adoration for our healthcare workers! They were nothing but understanding and reassuring while I took a few minutes to compose myself, and their pure kindness hurt something raw and aching in my chest.

More power to you, NHS.

But, as an aside about the world that we live in today: cor blimey, Women’s Health, I tell you.

There’s really not enough known about the various issues that the female body faces.

Endometriosis, for example, is frustratingly not taken seriously enough by people in medicine the world over. Not to mention, it’s also laughably understudied to boot.

My Bartholin Cysts, as well: there’s not nearly enough known about the cause or recurrencies behind them. I still don’t really understand why mine occur, either. In general, from the various community spaces that I’ve joined in order to try and learn more about these cysts from other women who deal with them as well, it’s a lot of confusion and a lot of trial and error. I didn’t even realise that I had one when I went travelling all throughout last year: a ticking time bomb just waiting to react.

So, I became a real pain in my local GP’s ass because I chased them up with repeated emails and tried to push for tests to be done that I thought would be relevant. I was probably not unlike a persistent mosquito to them, (I’m so sorry NHS workers; you’re all already so busy as is) but I managed to get my hormones tested and bacterial swabs taken from the area to see if something could be found out. They didn’t provide me any answers, unfortunately, but at least I learned that the results were healthy.

I even emailed my local hospital, asking to become involved in Women’s Health projects, specifically any research being done into Bartholin Cysts. I then tried reaching out to a well thought of hospital in the USA where a doctor readily practices on both normal and abscessed Bartholin Cysts for women suffering with them. Alas, both attempts proved fruitless and I found myself back where I started: just as nonplussed as I was when this first happened while I was miles away from home in Vietnam.

But anyway, last week I had my surgery. Much to my reluctant anticipation – reluctance, because hospitals can be so overwhelming to be in while also inviting wild overthinking on my part; anticipation, because I wanted to be rid of the damn thing and get some answers.

Again, I left none the wiser about this issue. I was sent on my way, though, with some reassurances that I’m not suffering alone, and that marsupilisation of the Bartholin Cyst is a procedure that the hospital deals with on the daily. Since then, I’ve been hobbling around and taking it easy. I’m not used to being so sedentary, but at least I can enjoy some spoiling from my family. Plus, it has meant that I’ve had the time to read a lot, and to also binge the medical procedural, The Pitt – which I’d only heard good things about (they were right! This show is incredible and I’m obsessed!).

Luckily, I’m already feeling much better now and the next post should be another book review; back to our regular broadcasting, as they say!