Rediscovering PCOS After a Decade

Living with PCOS I Barely Understood

For years, I lived with a diagnosis I barely understood.

As a nurse, you’d think I’d know what to expect. But nothing prepared me for the rollercoaster of living with PCOS—not as a healthcare professional, not as a woman, and not as a patient.

The Diagnosis I Ignored

When I was first diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, I didn’t bother to learn more. And yes, I’m a nurse.

I was overwhelmed. At the time, I was part of disaster rehabilitation efforts after the strongest typhoon in our country’s history, followed by a major earthquake in Bohol. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with a reproductive health issue. My focus was survival—other people’s.

Reproductive health wasn’t something we discussed. Not in hospitals. Not in training. Not even with colleagues.

Misinformation and Misdirection

In hindsight, one of the most misguided piece of advice I ever received was:

“Just get married and have a baby. That should fix things

As if marriage and motherhood were treatment plans. As if a baby could correct a hormonal imbalance. As if becoming a mother would somehow “fix” me.

This same OB had once misdiagnosed me with cancer—a terrifying experience that left me shaken. Later, she recommended surgery when I left development work to pursue entrepreneurship.

Despite my doubts, I stayed under her care, thinking I had no better options.

But when she told me I no longer had PCOS, something shifted. That moment made it clear: I needed a doctor who would listen—and respect my lived experience.

Believing I’d “Beaten” PCOS

Eventually, I believed I had managed PCOS naturally—through fitness and reviving healthy lifestyle

I trained regularly and even joined a marathon class. Not because I wanted to run races, but because I loved the discipline and having Olympic Athletes as my coaches was a bonus. That routine likely helped regulate my hormones. My periods became regular. I felt strong.

I even tried going vegetarian—briefly. It was my way of taking control, even if it didn’t last.

So when a doctor later told me my PCOS had “cleared,” I believed her. I wanted to.

For over a decade, I believed I had overcome PCOS.

Until the symptoms returned.

When the Symptoms Returned

In late 2023, something felt off.

I was constantly tired, no matter how much I rested. I gained weight. I had chronic acidity. My period disappeared—for several months.

At first, I blamed stress. The year had been heavy. But deep down, I knew it was grief—grief from major life changes, and the sudden loss of my father.

As nurses, we’re trained to keep going. But grief doesn't stay silent. It finds its way into the body.

That year, for the first time in my career, I used my sick leaves. My body was waving a white flag. I needed answers.

When Access Isn’t Enough

Despite having insurance and access to one of the country’s top hospitals, I had one of the worst medical experiences of my life.

The OB barely looked at me. She focused more on what my HMO would cover than on my symptoms. Within minutes, she recommended surgery—no discussion, no proper evaluation, no clear reason.

No pain. No urgency. Just a referral.

I wasn’t treated like a person. I was treated like a transaction.

Finding the Right OB (Finally)

That was my breaking point.

I started asking around—friends, coworkers, anyone I trusted. So many women I knew were also navigating reproductive health issues.

Eventually, I found the right doctor—kind, competent, and a relative of my sister-in-law. For the first time in years, I felt heard. No pressure. No judgment. Just a real conversation.

The Treatment I Actually Needed

Under her care, I started a new treatment plan—one that prioritized holistic, evidence-based care. No unnecessary procedures. No outdated advice. Just respectful, informed support.

With a career transition underway, I finally had the time and space to focus on myself. To rest. To breathe. To take my health seriously. It was long overdue.

The journey wasn’t easy. There were, heavy bleeding, and even ER visits. But I felt supported throughout—and that made all the difference.

Final Thoughts: You Know Your Body Best

This experience taught me something I’ll never forget:

A medical degree doesn’t guarantee good care.

Some advice is outdated.

Some care is rushed.

Some diagnoses are wrong.

And here’s the part that still gets me:

I’m a registered nurse. I know what good care should look like.

And even I was dismissed, misdiagnosed, and nearly pushed into unnecessary procedures.

So what about those without medical training? Without access? Without support?

That’s why I hold on to hope. Because things are slowly changing:

🌸 More clinics focused on women’s health

🌸 Providers who are informed, compassionate, and inclusive

🌸 Holistic Care that takes our health seriously

🌸 Empowered spaces where women can make informed decisions about their bodies

We need more of this—care that respects, listens, and empowers.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be part of building that too.

With my background, my experience, and my heart in the right place—maybe this story is just the beginning.