It all began with some discomfort on the left side of my abdomen. Occasionally, I would experience cramping and aching, which I figured was just a normal part of life after having kids. My periods had become heavier and longer, so I brushed these changes off as typical. Then came an unexpected bout of norovirus that left me unable to stop vomiting. My husband rushed me to the ER for fluids and anti-nausea medication. Amidst all this, I mentioned a burning sensation in my abdomen, prompting the doctors to recommend an ultrasound.
While the ultrasound didn’t reveal anything definitive, it did uncover a dermoid cyst on my ovary. Dermoid cysts are relatively common, making up about 20% of all abnormal yet benign ovarian growths. They are particularly prevalent among women under 20 but often appear during the peak childbearing years, between ages 20 and 40.
This diagnosis struck a chord with me; my mother had dealt with similar cysts in her late 30s and early 40s before undergoing a hysterectomy. If your mom had them, you tend to remember it—because dermoid cysts are nothing if not memorable.
A Tumor Like No Other
Unlike typical ovarian cysts that form and dissolve naturally, dermoid cysts (a type of teratoma) simply continue to grow. The term “teratoma” is derived from the Greek word for “monster.” Think of it this way: while some refer to uteruses as 3D printers, ovaries are like mini factories filled with immature eggs and germ cells, which can sometimes go haywire and start producing “stuff” like hair, fat, skin, and—believe it or not—teeth, and even eyeballs in rare cases. Yes, you heard that right!
It’s akin to having a miniature parts factory inside your body.
Remember that scene from My Big Fat Greek Wedding where Aunt Voula mentions having a twin in her neck? That was a teratoma, similar to a dermoid but located elsewhere. Unlike twins, however, these growths aren’t human; they’re just bizarre sacks filled with human-like parts—like a horror movie but happening in your ovary.
My mom had shared her own experiences, expressing fascination with her cysts. She even asked her OB-GYN to show them to her after removal. In her signature dark humor, she recounted waking up to find a collection of teeth and a tuft of red hair laid out before her. Yikes! The thought of my mother’s body producing spare baby parts without the babies was haunting, especially when I saw her old dolls sitting in her bedroom, which I couldn’t help but associate with creepy little parts.
When I was diagnosed, it felt inevitable. I had always known about the hereditary nature of these cysts, so I wasn’t entirely shocked to join the club of women with their own little factories of teeth and hair.
Finding Humor in the Unusual
My OB-GYN, a well-loved figure in our city with a delightful Mary Poppins-like charm, discussed my cyst with me. She explained that we would need to remove it before it grew too large, as there’s a risk of rupture or twisting—definitely not something I wanted to experience.
“So, you’re aware of what dermoids can contain?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “My mom had them.”
“Right! They can have fat, hair, and teeth!” she said, thrilled.
“I remember my mom’s stories, and while it’s horrifying, I think it’s kind of fascinating!” I admitted.
She nodded enthusiastically, revealing that she had kept a tooth from one of her earlier removals. I considered a rather cheeky idea: what if I could keep my cyst? After all, with legislators dictating what women can do with their bodies, it seemed like a statement worth making. “If the doctor removes it, can I keep it?” I asked, half-joking.
“It’s worth a shot!” she replied.
The colleague who performed the surgery was bemused by my request, explaining the protocol of sending the cyst to pathology. “They’re kind of gross,” she said, “but if there’s a tooth, I’ll do my best to get it back to you after the tests.”
Olga the Ovary Takes Center Stage
I’m a bit of a worrier, but I also believe that humor can help us navigate life’s challenges. I decided to name my peculiar growth. “It should be alliterative,” I thought, leading to the birth of Olga the Ovary. As I shared my story with friends, I envisioned Olga as a misunderstood figure who never quite fit in. I created silly Snapchat drawings and texted friends with the rallying cry, “FREE OLGA!”
After the surgery, my first question upon waking was, “Did they find a tooth?”
“Look at the board,” my husband said, revealing a drawing of a happy tooth next to a welcome message. I was overjoyed.
Weeks later, during a follow-up visit, my surgeon handed me a biohazard bag containing a test tube with my tooth floating in formaldehyde. She also shared pictures she had taken of my cyst, which showed a fatty mass lined with blonde hair and my precious tooth nestled within.
Had I not received an accidental diagnosis and the necessary healthcare, Olga could have posed a much greater risk to my health. Though Olga and I have yet to make our statement, we’re ready. For now, she resides safely in a bag in my closet, but I’ve even created a Twitter account for her, ready to challenge those anti-women’s health politicians. Olga, the one-toothed, blonde-haired, no-eyed ovarian cyst, will have her story told.
In a world where women’s health is often sidelined, Olga and I are here to testify.