A couple years ago, I decided to get an IUD for two main reasons. I was sick of having skin the texture and color of an Alaskan Salmon two weeks out of the month, and a few months before, both my best friend and my mom were diagnosed with breast cancer.

Here are things you should know about getting an IUD.

Why Get an IUD?

After wondering how both my mom and best friend got the same cancer in the same summer, that fall I began a somewhat irrational inventory of products I regularly used that could possibly be carcinogens. I settled on two things, birth control pills and Keurig pods. So I asked my gyno to jam a copper device into my uterus and switched to drip coffee from Keurig coffee because should we be drinking hot coffee that pours through tiny plastic pods? I don’t know, but it seems like an easy way to limit exposure to microplastics, which is probably futile because that shit is truly everywhere.

But why an IUD? While scrolling through Instagram reels in the middle of a workday, I came across a woman pointing at things on a screen about the downfalls of hormonal birth control pills while inappropriatly upbeat music played. I thought, yes, this will be the next switch, as I sipped/chewed my coffee because my old-ass Mr. Coffee thinks I want my coffee half-filled with grounds.

Using the words of Tuco Salamanca, I would describe avoiding breast cancer as, “Tight! Tight tight tight!”, but I was really stoked about the possibility of an non-hormonal IUD helping my skin settle into pre-pubescent bliss. Sure, I was reducing my chances of developing a horrible disease with a worse treatment, but it was only secondary to the quest of having skin that didn’t sometimes look like it belonged to an iguana.

1. There will be life-altering pain that will be described as “discomfort”.

Uh, they really undersold this. The PA warned me beforehand, but I shrugged it off because I “did mY ReSEarch.”, which, admittedly, was googling “why IUD”. But I don’t think she even used the word “pain”. Only “discomfort” and “cramping”. Let’s sum it up this way: I once had a root canal without anesthesia. And I would prefer the root canal over an IUD insertion.

I told them I took a couple ibuprofen beforehand, and they said, “Oh, good.” Except afterward I was not “good”: I was a sweaty and dizzy mess trying not to dry heave into my bag. I found out later they actually dilated my cervix with a tool that looks like metal crab hands to grab an organ inside my body while I was fully awake. Meanwhile, guys are getting vastecomies with local anesthesia, anxiety medication before hand and a sandwich afterward. I got full consciousness and a Sprite.

I couldn’t sit up straight, so I sat curled in a chair in a waiting room trying not to pass out. Eventually, I hobbled out to an Uber with the posture of an action movie hero trying to hide a gunshot wound to my lower abdomen that would be revealed to my love interest later.

My love interest was out of town, so I ate a leftover Halloween candy bar I brought with me. I had a lot because I buy candy but purposely don’t put them out for trick-or-treaters because we all have our holiday traditions, and this is mine. I got into the Uber thinking, “Oh, maybe I’m just hungry”. Like a miniature Mounds bar was going to right this wrong. Instead, when I got home, I threw up from the pain.

I called my best friend immediately and told her. That supportive dick (to be fair, she was going through chemo at the time) was like, “Are you just being a total pussy?” and I was like, “Bitch, no.” I tried to sleep it off as soon as I got home. But my body made me projectile vomit because it was like “I can’t believe you did this voluntarily, this was clearly a mistake. We’re going to fix this like the time you chugged two bottles of sparkling wine in under an hour.”

2. Don’t fucking make plans for afterward!

The PA and nurse asked me, while I had my shit hanging out, what I had on the ol’ agenda for the rest of the afternoon. I’m guessing chitchat was their way of distracting me since painkillers or a mallet to my head weren’t available, but medical gaslighting was.

I admire their meager compassion and lack of effort to obtain anesthesia of any kind, but it didn’t work. I like the Hopleaf as much as anyone else, but I usually prefer talking about my favorite bars when I don’t have barbecue tongs inside me.

Anyway, what you will be able to do afterward is wish for death or the strong embrace of a woman because ain’t no dick worth that pain. You’ll feel like someone shot you with a spear gun in your gut, punched you in your taint, and finished you off with a baseball bat to both femurs. This will last for many hours and maybe into the next day. So if you have painkillers, take them or ask for them beforehand for the “diSComfoRT” and “CRampING.”

I don’t know why I thought it would be pain-free. They’re inserting a tiny copper appendage that has goddamn arms inside me. THE ARMS SPRING UP ONCE It’S IN PLACE, like it wants to give my ovaries a group hug.

3. Your womb is now medically hostile.

Hahaha it true. What I’ve always wanted.

4. Your first period after will be memorable.

Do you like blood? Because you’re going to see a lot of it. Before I was even fully awake one morning, I had my feet on the floor and running to the bathroom to discover a horror movie within. I woke up from a dead sleep because I felt the waterfall starting. I know that’s common for many women, but not for me. My periods only averaged a teaspoon of blue liquid for 30 seconds and I was always able to go horseback riding in my whitest slacks.

5. I would absolutely do it all over again.

Hell yes. Pain is temporary, OxyClean gets blood out of everything, and these things last for up to 12 years. Since I’m creeping up on 40, my IUD is going to slingshot me straight into menopause and a house full of cats in the woods somewhere.

6. But my skin still has the texture of rough timber.

Fuck.