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 caused me to start my period at the grand old age of 16. By 16, most of the girls around me knew the ins and outs of having a period—what to expect, how long their cycle was, the whole shebang. They seemed to handle their periods with ease, even if it came with the occasional grumble about cramps or headaches. Meanwhile, I was quietly navigating uncharted territory, feeling like I’d missed the boat on understanding what was “normal.” 

When my periods finally started, they weren’t just late – they were irregular, unpredictable, and unbelievably heavy. I remember sitting in class with this awful feeling of dread, worried about leaks or needing to excuse myself to the bathroom for the fourth time that morning.

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

I’d sit frozen in my seat, scared of moving, scared of what might happen. 

At first, I thought this was just what periods were like. Everyone said periods were “messy” and “painful,” so I figured my experience wasn’t too far from normal. But as time went on, it became clear something wasn’t right. I was exhausted all the time, my clothes constantly felt tight from bloating, and the bleeding was relentless. 

So, I did what we’re told to do when something feels wrong – I went to a doctor. 

I wish I could say that this was the part of the story where things got better, but unfortunately, it was just the beginning of years of being dismissed and ignored. Every time I described my symptoms, it felt like I was being brushed off. “Periods are supposed to be heavy,” they’d say. “It’s just hormones.” One doctor told me to lose weight, as if shedding a few pounds would magically make my uterus cooperate. Another suggested I was exaggerating, claiming, “It’s probably not as bad as you think.” 

I walked out of those appointments feeling small, unheard, and like maybe I was overreacting. But deep down, I knew something was wrong. I’d spend hours googling symptoms, trying to find answers. My searches always seemed to lead back to PCOS, but it took years for me to get a proper diagnosis. 

In the meantime, I had to deal with the practical and emotional challenges of heavy menstrual bleeding on my own. At school, I’d carry an emergency stash of pads, tampons, and even spare underwear in my bag – just in case. I’d strategically plan bathroom trips and try to avoid long classes or assemblies where I couldn’t easily slip away. Social events became minefields.

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

It wasn’t just the logistics that were draining – it was the shame. I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone about what I was going through. Even though I knew periods were a shared experience, mine felt abnormal and embarrassing. How do you casually tell someone you’re bleeding so much that you’ve had to call in sick to college? 

The lack of support from doctors only made the isolation worse. When you’re told over and over again that what you’re experiencing is “normal,” you start to doubt yourself. You start to wonder if you’re just too sensitive, too dramatic, too… something. 

It wasn’t until my late teens that I finally found a doctor who listened. They took the time to ask questions, run tests, and explain what was happening with my body. When I was officially diagnosed with PCOS, it was almost a relief. I finally had a name for what I’d been experiencing – a reason for the irregular periods, the heavy bleeding, the constant fatigue. 

But getting the diagnosis was just one part of the journey. Living with PCOS and heavy menstrual bleeding is still a challenge. It’s something I’ve had to learn to manage, but more importantly, it’s something I’ve had to learn to talk about. For so long, I kept quiet because I was ashamed or afraid of being dismissed. Now, I know that sharing my experience isn’t just about advocating for myself – it’s about helping others who might be going through the same thing. 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that menstrual health shouldn’t be a taboo topic.

We shouldn’t have to feel ashamed or embarrassed to ask for help, and we definitely shouldn’t have to fight to be taken seriously when we know something isn’t right. 

Heavy menstrual bleeding isn’t just an inconvenience – it’s a health issue that can affect every aspect of your life, from your confidence to your daily routines. And for those of us with conditions like PCOS, it’s often just the tip of the iceberg. 

Looking back, I wish I’d had someone to tell me that it’s okay to speak up, to ask questions, and to keep pushing until you get the care you deserve. Because periods might not come with a neat, measurable definition like a fever, but that doesn’t mean they should be any less understood.