Neither. I was desperate. Desperate to the point of madness. For two years I was repeatedly diagnosed with yeast infections that left the whole of my nether regions itchy, irritated, swollen and often feeling like they were on fire. I was at the end of my rope.

Itchy, Irritated, Inconsolable

My mother got lots of yeast infections when she was younger, so when I first became afflicted, doctors diagnosed my problem as hereditary, saying I was simply more susceptible to the overgrowth of yeast.

(Three out of four women get a yeast infection at some point in their life, so it’s pretty common.) But when the infections started coming just as regularly as my period, my mother said, “God, even I didn’t have that many.”

I’m part of a gossipy Igbo family, so it was only hours before almost every female in my extended family knew about it. For Christmas that year, I received what my aunt referred to as the Itchy Vagina (VG) package.

It was stocked with tubes of Vagisil, medicated vaginal wipes, and pads. I was less embarrassed and more thankful. My stockpile was running low.

At that point, I had taken every over-the-counter medication available. Truthfully, I could have been the poster child for Monistat. The pharmacist seemed to think so—his eyebrows raised as I approached the counter with a basket full of vaginal products for the second time in a month.

I had gone to see my primary care doctor, nurse practitioners, and gynecologists. I did everything they told me to. I ate yogurt. I popped probiotics. I never sat too long in my wet bathing suit.

I wore only cotton underwear. At night I lay naked from the waist down, spreading my legs wide imagining air flowing in and out of me, fanning the disease away.

The infections had also infiltrated my sex life. Sex was no longer about pleasure—at least, not the pleasure I was used to.

My doctors told me to stay away from sex, as it would only irritate the infection further (the vast majority of yeast infections aren’t contagious), but like an unruly kid who plunges a pencil under her cast to satisfy that burning itch, I turned my fiancé’s penis into my own personal scratching stick.