PCOS and Heavy Periods: Leah’s story

A fever is usually considered when you have a body temperature higher than 38 degrees Celsius. This is measurable, widely accepted, and easy to understand. Unfortunately for me growing up, the same could not be said about the problems that came with menstruating.

I have polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), which meant I didn’t start my period until I was 16. By then, most girls my age knew their cycle length, what products worked best, and how to cope. I was still in the dark, feeling like I’d missed the boat on what was “normal.”

When my periods did arrive, they were irregular, unpredictable, and unbelievably heavy. I remember bleeding so much I’d sit in boiling baths for hours, hoping the heat would reduce the pain and somehow speed things up. The pain was unbearable, and super-plus tampons hurt so badly I dreaded using them. I worried about my fertility – and to be honest I still do.

There were days when I’d go through a pad and a tampon together in less than an hour.

Frozen in my seat for fear of leaking. At first, I thought this was just how periods were. People said they were messy and painful, so I assumed I was experiencing the same as everyone else. But exhaustion, constant bloating, and relentless bleeding told me otherwise.

So I went to a doctor – the thing we’re told to do when something feels wrong. Instead of answers, I got years of dismissal. “Periods are supposed to be heavy.” “It’s just teenage hormones; it will balance out.” I left feeling small and unheard, wondering if maybe I was overreacting.

Still, I knew something wasn’t right. I spent hours searching online, and everything pointed to PCOS. It took years to get a proper diagnosis – delivered, of all ways, in a text message: “Your blood test results are back, and you meet the PCOS criteria.” No phone call. No explanation. Meanwhile, I had to manage the bleeding and the shame alone. At college, I carried a secret kit of pads, tampons, and spare underwear. I timed toilet breaks strategically, avoided long lessons, and dreaded social events.

Sleepovers, swimming trips, or even just sitting on someone else’s couch filled me with anxiety. 

It wasn’t just physical exhaustion – it was the isolation. How do you tell someone you’re bleeding so heavily you’ve had to miss college? And when doctors insist what you’re going through is normal, you start to doubt yourself.

Things only began to change in my late teens, when I found a doctor who listened. They asked questions, ordered tests, and explained what was happening. When PCOS was officially confirmed, it was almost a relief – finally, a name for the irregular cycles, fatigue, and heavy bleeding.

But having a diagnosis doesn’t make the symptoms disappear. Living with PCOS is still a daily balancing act. Over time, I’ve learned ways to manage it – but more importantly, I’ve learned to talk about it. For too long, I stayed silent out of shame or fear of being dismissed. Now, I know that speaking up is a way of advocating for myself and helping others who might be struggling in silence.

Menstrual health shouldn’t be a taboo subject.

Heavy bleeding isn’t just an inconvenience – it can affect confidence, education, work, relationships, and everyday routines. For those with PCOS, it’s often just the start of a long list of symptoms.

Looking back, I wish someone had told me it’s okay to keep pushing for answers, even when you feel unheard. Periods might not have a neat, measurable definition like a fever, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be taken seriously.