I've had PCOS my whole life.
For most of it, I managed. I kept going. I did what women do — I pushed through and pretended everything was fine.
Then one of the hardest periods of my life hit all at once. The stress became impossible to contain. And my body, which had been quietly struggling for years, finally said enough.
A cyst burst. My ovary started to turn.
I was rushed into emergency surgery. The surgeon removed part of my ovary on the operating table.
When I came around and asked what I could do to prevent it from ever happening again, the answer I got was:
"You can't. Maybe the pill will help."
I wasn't willing to accept "you can't."
So I went looking for answers the way most of us do — obsessively, at 2am, in every corner of the internet.
I tried Chinese medicine. Serbian herb potions passed down through generations. Every protocol I could find.
Some things helped a little. Nothing helped enough.
