Vulvodynia (that’s vaginal pain, y’all): A girl’s worst friend
About a decade ago, I had a yeast infection that never felt like it cleared up. Whether or not it really was a yeast infection, who knows? But it wasn’t an STD (I was, for all intents and purposes, in a marriage-like relationship). And it was a constant stinging, burning discomfort. After months of going to different specialists I was finally diagnosed by someone who seemed to know what he was talking about. Vulvar vestibulitis. A type of “vulvodynia”, which means, literally, “vaginal pain”. VV refers to the vestibule, or opening, of the vagina. There is an area of tissue unlike any other in the body (I believe becomes the scrotal sac in males) and it’s dense with nerve endings.
Many women experience vaginal pain at some point in their lives; studies range from 6-20%. Sometimes it’s a result of physical trauma (e.g. Tearing during childbirth), other times, like with me, it follows on the heels of an infection or “insult” to the tissue. Some women have pain only with contact to the area, or when they try to insert a tampon or a penis. Other women, like me, have a constant burning pain. Given where the affected nerve endings travel inside my body, I can feel both a more stinging localized pain, as well as discomfort radiating through my vaginal vault and pelvic area. Sitting’s not so great for it, but I do have one of those office-type jobs.
There are various treatments for VV, but none is 100% effective. I’ve read all the research, and seen the best doctors. As for the treatments I’ve tried: surgery, acupuncture, physical therapy, biofeedback, kegels, and a long list of medications including ones from the tricyclics, SSRIs, mood stabilizers, narcotics, and those in their own categories. I’ve used topical lidocaine, benzocaine and steroids. Ice packs after intercourse. Put simply: I have a very stubborn case, and it shows all signs of being part of my life always.
So, I live with chronic pain.
As you are probably thinking by now, this presents some challenges with sexual partners, especially with men who, generally, dig vaginal intercourse. Some of the “side effects” of VV aren’t so terrible. One is that I am very up front about all things sexual. I have to be. I have to educate partners about what they can touch, and where and how. Partners can be very timid and worry about hurting me, or they can forget and proceed as usual.
Being with women since my diagnosis can be very liberating. The focus on penetration just isn’t there. And if there is penetration, a woman’s finger is a heck of a lot smaller than the average penis.
What has caught me off guard with women, sometimes, is how much some of them really want to be fucked. Hard. They want me to do things to them that look painful to me.
The other thing I learned was that, probably due to surgery, I just don’t lubricate the way I used to. I knew I used to get really wet, but it wasn’t until I had my first GF following my diagnosis that I realized just how different things were now. Fortunately, there are all kinds of lubes on the market, and I’ve probably tried all of them! So, it’s another thing I have to communicate to partners – just because I’m not gushing doesn’t mean I’m not aroused. I need to stop to get the lube or find out if there is any intention of oral sex (because it’s best to wait on the lube for that!)
I have to be up front about my limitations, and educate people precisely about what feels good and what – ouch! – really doesn’t.
I can have vaginal penetration, and it can feel quite lovely. Especially if it’s an average or smaller cock, and there’s lots of foreplay and working up to it. And after, I will feel more pain for the next 3-4 days. So it had better be worth it!
