If talk about menstruation (periods) or blood makes you squeamish, you might not want to read this post.
Seven months and eight periods ago, I traded in my tampons
for a menstrual cup. I’m so glad I made the switch. Note: This
post contains affiliate links, each marked with an asterisk (*).
I had two motivations for doing this:
Cost: My Lunette menstrual cup (Model 2)* cost $28.99 on Amazon. It will easily pay for itself in less than a year, and may have already.
Environment: There’s no trash when you use a menstrual cup, just empty, clean, and re-use. Tampons, pads, applicators, and wrappers, on the other hand, pile up in landfills.
Day 1: It Got Stuck
It didn’t get stuck-stuck, but it took a bit to figure out
how to slide the cup out of my body. Getting the cup in to my body was easy – squeeze
one side in so the circle at the top looks like a “C,†and slide it in. It re-expands
back to its circular shape and the little holes near the top create a suction against your skin. You have to
break this seal to get it back out, which is challenging when you have tiny
hands and short fingers like me. The first time I tried to get it out after
wearing it a few hours (you can wear it up to 12 hours) was a complete fail. I got
it out that evening, but it took 20 minutes to figure it out.
Leaks Happen – But Not Often
Before switching to a menstrual cup, I dealt with leaks all
the time. I have designated underwear for this week. Doesn’t everyone?
I have way fewer leaks with the menstrual cup. I’ve had two leaks
because I didn’t quite get the cup into place, and I think I overflowed it
once. I just wear black underwear and that seems to be enough. I don’t need to
wear a pantyliner or anything for backup.
My Own Horror Movie
Tampons and pads work by absorbing your blood. You can’t
tell how much fluid they’re actually holding. Cups are the opposite. It’s just
a silicon cup that catches your blood. When you empty your cup when you’re in
the shower or sitting on the toilet, it looks like a horror movie. You know
exactly how much you’re bleeding.
Thank goodness men don’t get periods. If teenage boys used
menstrual cups, they’d be throwing blood at each other in high school
bathrooms.
What about Public
Bathrooms?
When you empty your cup, you’re supposed to at least rinse
it before putting it back in. I’m lucky where I work only has single-user
bathrooms so I can easily rinse my cup in the sink.
With multi-user bathrooms, that’s not the case. Thankfully,
I’ve only had to deal with this once. I emptied my cup, wiped it out with
toilet paper (and dripped blood on my shoe), put it back in, and wiped the blood
off my fingers before exiting the stall. It wasn’t a big deal.
No Rogue Strings (Yay!)
Tampon users know this one: sometimes your string “goes
rogue†and pulls in the opposite direction from where it should be. And it
hurts. And there’s no discreet way to fix it. You have to reach into your
underwear and put it back in place.
When this happened to me, it was usually when I was out
running, far away from a bathroom. It happened so frequently, I switched from
tampons to “period panties†when I
was running. With the cup, there’s no string to worry about.
Equally convenient, I don’t have to worry about having a
visible string when I go swimming – which is currently twice a week. (Yes, there’s a true story from my gymnastics
days when I was competing in a black leotard with a visible white string!) When
I’m at the pool, I always worry that I didn’t put my cup in properly and it
will leak. I have a fear of finishing a lap and being confronted by a lifeguard
who tells me I’m bleeding in the pool. So far, that has not been an issue at
all.
Helps with Dysphoria
Using a menstrual
cup* helps with the dysphoria I have about being non-binary and trapped in a
female body. When I was using tampons, I had to change it five times a day or
more on my heaviest day. That meant I had to have tampons with me, carry them
through the office on my way to the bathroom, dealing with the string, and
being confronted with my period each time I changed my tampon. Cups are
designed to be worn for up to 12 hours, so I only have to deal with it twice a day,
three times on my heaviest day. Otherwise, I can “set it and forget it.â€
This legislative session, 1289 bills were introduced in Arizona. Every bill that didn’t receive a First Read by last Friday (February 22, 2019) is dead. If a bill doesn’t get a First Read, it doesn’t get assigned to a committee. If it doesn’t get assigned to a committee, it never gets voted on. I could not find a comprehensive list of all the bills that died (or that are still pending for that matter), but among the dead bills is my bill.
HB2289
would have given Arizona the ability to issue non-binary driver’s licenses. This
law would have provided the legal recognition that non-binary people deserve to
be treated the same as men and women. It would have helped alleviate the
problems that arise when someone’s appearance is discordant to the gender they
were assigned as birth.
The currently law only allows for male and female
designations on IDs. There are no other options. Even if you present a
non-binary birth certificate or a non-binary driver’s license from another
state, they can’t issue you a non-binary driver’s license. Even if the MVD
wanted to, it can’t issue a driver’s license with “X†for non-binary. (I know.
I’ve tried. Ditto for leaving the field for sex blank. The computer won’t
process the application without “M†or “F.â€)
During this legislative session, I called or emailed Speaker
Bowers’ office almost every day. My friends called and emailed him too. I never received a response, even when I
specifically requested a call back. Each time I asked him to give the bill a
First Read and assign it to a committee. My requests fell on deaf ears.
I never asked Speaker Bowers to support the bill. All I
asked was that he allow it to be heard.
Issuing non-binary driver’s licenses is not a new idea. Currently,
Washington D.C. and 6 states issue non-binary driver’s
licenses: Arkansas, California, Colorado, Maine, Minnesota, and Oregon. (Looking
at the pending bills and previously passed laws in other states, Maryland,
Massachusetts, New York, and Vermont are the most likely states to be next to
grant non-binary driver’s licenses.)
Wait. Back up.
Arkansas! One of the states in the “bible belt†is more progressive
and accepting of non-binary people than my state!
Granting non-binary people driver’s licenses that match
their gender won’t change most people’s lives, and it shouldn’t be that
expensive. It’s a matter of updating a form and some computer software. By not
even letting the bill be heard, the State is telling non-binary people that we
don’t exist, that we don’t matter, that we don’t deserve the same rights and acknowledgement
as everyone else. The State of Arizona is saying we’re second class citizens at
best.
This hurt. Having my bill die without being given a chance
was a slap in the face and a kick in the gut. It made me want to figuratively
crawl into a corner and cry.
Image by Ted Eytan from Werk For Your Health (Creative Commons License)
At the same time, I want to scream at anyone who says we don’t
exist. I will shop in the men’s and women’s sections if I feel like it. I will
cringe every time I hear someone refer to me as “ma’am†or “miss.†I want to
take my non-binary birth certificate (thanks California!) and whip it out anytime
someone claims we should be forced to use the bathroom based on what gender we
were assigned at birth.
We know we exist. I’m not asking for your validation. I just
want the same rights as everyone else.
If you’re curious about the status of a bill, you can look
it up on the State’s website. A lot
of good bills died last week.
When Rosie lost her right eye to glaucoma and became a pirate pup in 2015, our doctor said it would only be a matter of time until the illness took her other eye. They said most glaucoma dogs lose their second eye within a year of the first one.
This post contains affiliate links. If you
follow the link and make a purchase, you pay the same as everyone else, but I
get a small commission. Any link marked with an asterisk (*) is an affiliate
link.
Day 1: Sudden
Blindness
Monday, November 19, 2018 (the Monday before Thanksgiving): Rosie woke up blind. When we went for our morning walk, she stumbled when the surface of the ground changed from sidewalk, to gravel, to grass. That’s what tipped me off that she wasn’t just tired. Not that she could see much before then – between the glaucoma and her eye drops, Rosie’s view of the world was like looking through a straw after her first eye surgery.
I called our puppy ophthalmologist’s
emergency number (it was before 6 a.m.). The doctor gave the go-ahead to give Rosie’s
emergency meds and told me to make an appointment with our regular vet. I mixed
glycerin with milk and slowly poured down Rosie’s throat with a big syringe.
This dehydrated her and hopefully brought down the pressure in her eye.
How About Today?
I got an appointment with our
vet just before noon where they confirmed what I already suspected: Rosie
was blind. Her glaucoma had spread and the pressure in her right eye was too
high. It needed to be removed.
I asked our vet if they had availability on the schedule to do Rosie’s surgery the next day. She went to the back to check the surgeon’s schedule. When the vet returned, she said, “How about today?”
At 12:30 that afternoon, I left Rosie in the trusted care of our vet where the same surgeon who did her first enucleation would be performing her second one. The hardest part was not being able to explain to Rosie what was about to happen. I couldn’t tell her, “These nice people are going to put you to sleep, and when you wake up, your head isn’t going to hurt anymore, but you’ll never see again.”
Support from the Blind
Basset Community
One of the first people I reached out to after leaving Rosie was Daisy the Blind Snowflake – an all-white blind basset I knew from Instagram. Her mom told me that adapting to blindness is harder on the human than the dog and gave me some tips. That was reassuring.
Sarah and Thomas to
the Rescue
I picked up Rosie from the vet at 8 that night. The vet tech was
very sweet. She told me while Rosie was in recovery, it was just her and
another dog in that area, neither one in a kennel or cages. At one point, Rosie
randomly walked over to the other dog and gently bumped her head into them.
I snapped Rosie’s protective cone from her first surgery around her head, loaded her into the car, and drove her home. Newly blind and still groggy from surgery, she didn’t want to move much. When I unloaded her from the car, she refused to walk, even with a gentle tug on the leash.
I had a moment of mild panic. What was I going to do? I can lift my 68-pound dog, but I can’t carry her the 100ish feet from my parking spot to our condo. I immediately called my neighbors, Sarah and Thomas, who bolted over to help. Thomas scooped up my potato sack of a dog and carried her all the way to her bed.
It turned out, Rosie was freaked out by the cone. As soon as I unsnapped
it, she was fine. I made her a deal that she could have breaks from it while I
home, nearby, and awake, if she didn’t scratch at her stitches.
Day 2: Surreal
The day after surgery was surreal for me as I looked at my beautiful dog with her swollen purple eye and thought, “My dog is really blind. This isn’t going to change.”
She can’t see shapes. She can’t even see light. She literally
has no eyeballs. Her world is dark.
There were some sad moments for me that day, but I found comfort
in reminding myself that adapting is harder for me than Rosie. As I was experiencing
these thoughts, she was comfortably relaxing on the lawn.
Day 5: You’re Killing
Mommy
I often participate in Buy Nothing Day on Black Friday, but I had to make an exception. I was working in my home office, and Rosie was crashing around the living room in her cone.
Bang bang bang bang bang!
I try to be patient with Rosie, especially in times like this where she can’t help it, but the noise was making me insane. I think at one point I actually said, “Rosie, you’re killing Mommy.”
A quick run to Ryan’s Pet
Supplies saved my sanity. I got Rosie a soft inflatable doughnut to replace
her plastic cone. I think we were both happier for it.
Imperfect Navigation
Basset hounds are scent hounds. I figured navigating as a blind
dog would be easy for Rosie. I was surprised to see her that she couldn’t
beeline toward a scent.
For example, Rosie’s bowls are in the kitchen. You have to go
around the counter to get to them. When she walks to meals, I have to watch to
make sure she doesn’t walk into a chair that’s under the dining table. There’s
plenty of navigation space. Sometimes she sniffs at her water bowl before realizing
that her food bowl is next to it. Even though she has a top-notch sniffer, she’s
still navigating in the dark.
Going for walks is a daily adventure for us. We switched to walking with her car harness after her second surgery – a suggestion from the vet tech. At first, it was like walking a marionette. I always have to be on the lookout to make sure she doesn’t inadvertently walk off a curb. When I let Rosie lead, she frequently walks in ovals in the parking lot. I’m not sure why she does that.
I learned that other owners taught their glaucoma dogs verbal commands for “right,” “left,” “slow down,” and “hard stop” while they still had some vision. Yeah . . . Rosie and I didn’t do that. She spent the last 4 years mostly being self-directed on our walks and often walked off-leash. Going back to wearing a leash has been quite the adjustment for her.
One thing I do during our walks is I let her bump into things.
Not hard. When we’re approaching a car or a wall, if she wants to keep walking
toward the solid object, I’ll slow her down and let her gently bump it. I
figure she’s not going to learn how close things are without experiencing it.
Rules for Blind Dog
Living
Here are some of the rules I’ve learned for living with a blind
dog:
Don’t move the furniture. (I’m not one of them, but apparently there are people who recreationally rearrange their furniture.)
No clutter on the floor. Don’t leave things like shoes out where your dog can trip on them.
Open doors slowly. You never know where your blind dog is on the other side. Your dog cannot tell how fast the door is moving and get out of the way.
You can help your dog navigate by tapping on the floor or wall near where you want them to go.
Protect your blind dog from approaching dogs. During our first week of blind living, a rambunctious dog came up too fast on Rosie. (He just wanted to play.) That was the moment I learned to step in front of Rosie to physically block her from fast approaching dogs.
Use a harness to walk your blind dog. You don’t want to pull at their neck.
Use a “blind dog” leash.* Rosie has the leash and collar.* This way, anyone approaching us will see that she’s blind and be more thoughtful.
Use scent-based play. We like to play hide-the-treat where I’ll hide pieces of dog treats in shoes, in her bed, behind doors, etc., where she has to sniff them out. Rosie also loves pushing around her Kong treat ball.*
Give all other treats directly to the dog’s mouth. For dental sticks,* bully slices,* and Milkbones,* I hold one side of the treat near her face, and let her grab it with her mouth.
Day 90: Getting the
Hang of It
I’m still getting used to having a blind dog. I’ve seen a big
improvement in how well she navigates our condo and our complex. She’s gained a
lot more confidence in the last few weeks.
She often sticks close to walls and furniture both when walking
and laying down. Whenever she lays down at home or in the office, her butt or side
is usually touching something. I think this gives her a sense of security about
where she is. Whenever I’m looking for her, I scan the edges of the room.
One of the things that gives me the warm fuzzies is seeing her recognize
familiar people and dogs. Her tail wags like crazy when she realizes she’s
found a friend, sometimes followed by happy whines.
Over the last 90 days, Rosie and my lives have changed a lot. She doesn’t need eye drops anymore. We walk slower. I have to get out of her way, because she’s not getting out of mine. I try to be careful about scary noises like the food processor and vacuum.
On the flip side, a lot of things have stayed the same. Rosie is
still my baby. She’s still as stubborn as ever, and probably now even more
spoiled (as she should be).
