Well, things only got worse over the weekend. By Saturday morning, it was very clear that I had an abscess. My clitoral hood swelled up and was definitely fluid filled. It looked like I had two large oblong grapes stuffed end to end inside my clitoral hood. The mass was so large that walking was miserable. Wearing underwear was miserable. Actually, just being alive was miserable.
I told my husband just enough about my situation for him to understand why the housework was piling up and I was laying around with a heating pad on my privates most of the time. But, having a huge, disgusting, infected abscess on my genitals was mortifying. The shame and embarrassment far outweighed the pain and discomfort and that’s saying a heck of a lot. I feared he’d find the idea of ever being intimate with me again revolting.
The abscess got larger over the weekend. If I had anything looking that serious any where on my body I would have gone to the ER. But I didn’t want to go to the hospital and get an ER doctor that isn’t familiar with LS to man handle my very delicate vulva and treat me like a promiscuous tramp that had an STD. So, I suffered through the weekend and waited for my doctor appointment which was Monday morning.
My doctor was booked, so I had to see her nurse practitioner. She took one look at me and gasped in horror. It was an immediate reaction to how disturbing my vulva looked. She gathered herself quickly, realizing how unprofessional her response had been and how humiliated I was at just having to be examined with an abscess on the most sensitive, private part of my entire body.
She said it needed to be lanced and drained, but due to my LS she was fearful to do it herself and rescheduled me to have my OB/Gyn, who is also a talented surgeon, perform the procedure on Wednesday. Great, two more days of this!
The rest of Monday and Tuesday was a nightmare. If I had been the more emotionally fragile woman that I was eight years ago and without children who depend on me, I would have killed myself. Men are comfortable with their genitalia. They have no problems adjusting themselves in public or letting the world know how proud they are of their privates and how much they identify being a man with that part of their anatomy. But, we women too identify ourselves with our womanly features. We don’t walk around discussing our clitorises, but I truly felt less of a woman, even less human, to have a mutated clitoral hood. I was worried that my LS had progressed to a point that my clitoral hood would never recover. That sex would never be pleasurable again. That I was only 35 and would have to live the rest of my life with this pain and discomfort.
Tuesday night I went to bed and suddenly felt wet, just like when my water broke with my first baby. The abscess had burst all on its own and was draining. This turned out to be a huge blessing according to my doctor. Wednesday morning when she examined me, there was no longer a need to lance the abscess. She said lancing would have been extremely painful because the clitoris is very difficult to numb. She told me to take lots of hot baths, stay on my antibiotic, and just let it drain.
So, that’s where I am now. I have a terrible case of LS. My vulva is shrinking away. My clitoral hood is fused closed. I have a mass the size of a grape on my clitoris. And as if that wasn’t all enough, I now have an open, jagged wound were my abscess burst.
I hope to be healed soon.