You know what we all don’t talk about enough? Getting your period while travelling, and how much it f**king sucks. Like women don’t have it bad enough!
It was all going well, my friend and I had decided to do a cute little weekend road trip, something fun! A nice little overnight stay (oh how quaint and whimsy of us)!
The whole weekend was planned out (this was my first mistake), a day of sight-seeing, going to visit Bruce Peninsula, see flowerpot island, a beautiful summer’s day seeing the best of Ontario, Canada!
The car was packed, everything was good to go, we’re driving along, having a great time listening to Miley Cyrus, probably (definitely, and it was my choice), living our best life in the summer sun. AC flowing through our hair because it’s 2019.
And then it happened.
Internally a siren went off in my head, like a really shitty Kill Bill, for periods.
I do have this theory about periods that they know just when you actually plan a nice day out and your period is due, it will make an extra special delivery to turn up unannounced like your drunk aunt just to serve as a reminder that you have no control over anything, as some sort of life lesson. The law of Aunt Irma.
So, like clockwork of the law: I was having a brilliant time and I started feeling a small amount of pain, nothing crazy, thought I’d be clever (mistake on my part) and take some preventative painkiller you know, the usual routine. However, my ovaries had a different idea, like some sort of mean, mad-scheming, evil twins, my ovaries decided to unleash the wrath of seven suns, all in one sudden swoop. #justgirlythings!
Or like my uterus was seeking revenge in the form of a very slow and painful death solely through your abdomen, also the urge to poop.
Or 100 tiny men with tiny hammers hacking at your insides, either way, it was awful.
As aforementioned painkillers had done nothing, we’re driving along this magical, scenic, classic Canada route to Bruce Peninsula (approximately 3 hours from Toronto) literally GORGEOUS, to die for, something straight out of a book (well, instagram, I guess) meanwhile there were approximately 1000 knives stabbing into my uterus.
My friend Chloe had the genius idea of laying me down on my stomach and putting the car seat warmers on as some glorious, incredible makeshift heat pad. Genius. Yes, I have sent our pitch to Shark Tank, I am waiting to hear back.
However, it did not work. But it did make for an excellent photo.
My friend was ‘wowing’ at the view and I was clutching my abdomen like I would surely die in this car.
Is it possible to die from your period?
Maybe, I’d be the first case.
So there I am, as my uterus slowly but surely eats me alive. It takes me a few hours to realise that these painkillers simply are not doing their job. I keep waiting and waiting and waiting for them to kick in. I don’t know how 2 x 500mg painkillers DIDN’T WORK (I took more later and they STILL DIDN’T WORK I don’t understand how) But as we’re driving through (what Chloe was telling me) was this beautiful Canadian scenery, something like this…
I was staring at the lovely grey on grey pattern of her backseats as I thought about my funeral.
Oh god I haven’t even mentioned the part about having to put a tampon on in the middle of the woods. So of course this whole ~period fiasco~ happens an hour after we leave to go on our trip, so I urge my friend Chloe to pull over.
Of course I have no period paraphernalia because I was more focused on having fun (ugh how dare I?) so we make an emergency stop at a petrol station, I reluctantly pay something like $50 for like 3 tampons, sobbing as I do it. I ask to use the bathroom and for some reason they don’t have one… of course *x-files music* (conspiracy theory for sure). We drive 2 metres up the road, I’m clutching my uterus like it’s going to fall out my butt, we’re in what seems like the middle of nowhere, but I know I have to get this over and done with. So there I am, about 5 metres from a major highway,
squatting.
Vagina and butt are fully out on display. Like a plump rump at a butcher shop I may as well put a bright red ‘special’ sticker on me.
I do believe peeing 2 metres from a major highway behind a dead tree is a rite of passage on a road trip.
If you didn’t feel a gentle breeze beneath your pale, naked bare butt and have at least one car honk did you even go on a roadtrip? or perhaps that lovely quick jolt of fear as you realise a leaf or blade of grass grazed your butt and that might very well be some sort of insect, so you attempt to speedily crab walk to safety with your pants around your ankles? Or the beautiful realisation I had that the only thing separating my bleeding vagina and a highway full of cars is a very sparse bush you have put your entire faith into? ahh… the joys of travel.
You’ll be pleased to know the rest of the day did not improve! There’s nothing like a good ol’ period pain to keep you humble and ruin your day! There’s also nothing like a leaking tampon to REALLY ruin your day. This period was out to get me. We could have stopped at a drugstore but the further we got to Bruce Peninsula the further we were from a pharmacy, we’d planned a few destinations on the way, which we had to rush and do the following day. But I just kept thinking the pain killers would do SOMETHING, but they never did. I kept looking to the car seat warmers for hope, and for some reason 2 hours later the painkillers still hadn’t worked and I have absolutely no idea how that happened.
So, from this wonderful, educational life experience, I have learned to now bring:
- at least 2 different brands of painkillers
- toilet paper or tissues
- the will to live
- the ability to turn into a man when my period arrives
- the reminder that my period controls my life if I let it and don’t bring the right pain killers
- back up tampons
I hope this story resonates in some way, or is at least a reminder to bring painkillers on your next adventure! #LiveLaughUterus