Dry and Blessed

"I'm always dry".

This was how one consultation at my clinic began one gloomy Saturday afternoon. In front of me was a twenty one year old woman who looked a little older than that, being skinny but well-dressed and a little made up. She talked to me in English (casual, not very fluent with acceptable flaws in grammar but forgivable) while I talked mostly in Filipino.

Indeed, it was a sexual problem other girls her age would be too ashamed to talk about with their doctors (here in the Philippines at least). But here she was, upright and open to questioning. She's married to a 56 year old caucasian who only visited her twice in a year. Every visit in the last two or so years always ended up in a sour note because the husband would always complain that she was, well...dry.

She asked if I could prescribe her with something that could take the dryness away. I almost laughed, immediately quipping, "Have you tried a lubricant?" But when I realized for a split second that this was a real life problem, I tried to pry a little more.
Turns out she had a very sad childhood - dry, if you may. Her father died when she was 11; she met her mother only a year ago. She grew up with an aunt, who, upon learning of her marriage with an old divorced foreigner, disowned her and threw her things out the door... except her money and some jewelry. And this particular scene, she told me, always comes up her head whenever her husband tried to make love to her, shunning all sexual thoughts away. But since she wanted a baby with this man so much, she tried to fake it all away until she had these nasty abrasions down there, from all that dry forceful friction. Which would later bleed after every attempt at lovemaking, leaving her hurting inside and out, frustrated and with little self-esteem.

And here I was, frustrated myself but with remorseful nevertheless from a recent career failure. Yes, I failed, but I don't have to get stuck with an old divorcee because I have a caring and responsible husband always at my side, who understands my feelings and day to day changes. Whom I don't have to try so hard to please. Who in the midst of his own academic failure, stood by me and played his role of husband dutifully. Who understands why we are still childless, and doesn't blame me for it. Whom I have always been proud of. Who doesn't leave me dry and hurt and dirty. I grew up in the comfort, security, love and support of a family, with a complete set of parents who sacrificed their own comforts for the sake of their children.

Sometimes it's in the loss of others that we get to see and appreciate what we have and have always had.

I have never given such heartfelt advise to a patient before. Not because she needs a lot of help, but because she reminded me how blessed I was.

There weren't tears from her. Just sheer determination to make peace with her aunt once and for all so she could have that baby and move on with her life. Oh, and have lots of great, fulfilling, dry-no-more sex.