Game of Wombs: A Tale of Two Hysteroscopies

Pain, paracetamol and a dash of Baldrick – why women deserve better choices when it comes to gynaecological procedures.

Reading Madeleine Spencer’s article in The Daily Mail’s Femail section on Thursday 8 October 2026, entitled “I want to warn every woman about the agonising gynae test that still haunts me”, brought back some rather unpleasant memories of my own experiences of hysteroscopy and womb biopsies. Not least because I’d undergone the procedure again less than a week before the article appeared.

And believe me, the first experience was not one I’d been looking forward to repeating.

The first encounter – or Game of Wombs

The first time I was booked in for a hysteroscopy and biopsy was around 2014/2015, when I was perimenopausal and aged about 50 or 51.

Naively, I assumed it would be something akin to having a smear test – uncomfortable, perhaps, but perfectly bearable.

How spectacularly wrong I was.

First up, I wasn’t offered any pain relief whatsoever.

And back then, the NHS wasn’t nearly as good as it is now at explaining what was about to happen. Nobody gave me much of an idea of what I was letting myself in for.

For those unfamiliar with the procedure, a hysteroscopy involves passing a thin camera through the cervix to look inside the womb. A biopsy involves removing a small sample of the womb lining for examination.

The camera was bad enough. But then came the biopsy.

From my rather unfortunate position on the receiving end, it felt as though a long, rigid instrument was being used to punch holes out of my womb lining.

The woman wielding this particular instrument of torture appeared to be punching and thrusting away with all the enthusiasm of a sword-wielding soldier in Game of Thrones, with not an ounce of empathy in sight.

I had tears rolling down my face. The pain was so unbearable that I eventually had to ask her to stop.

I’ve broken bones and torn ligaments over the years, but absolutely nothing came close to the pain I experienced during that procedure.

Apparently, all the blood had drained from my face and I was as white as a sheet.
The assisting nurse took pity on me, offered me some paracetamol and water and handed me a sanitary pad to soak up the bleeding.

A bit late with the paracetamol, I thought.

She also remarked that women who’d had children usually found the procedure less painful. A close friend of mine, who had indeed given birth, would flatly refute that particular observation. She’d undergone the same procedure and found it utterly debilitating.

So much for that theory.

Fast-forward to 2026 – the womb strikes back

Now aged 62, I experienced an unexpected bleed this summer.
Knowing how important it is to have any bleeding after menopause investigated, I contacted my GP surgery.

And here I must give credit where it’s due.
They were excellent.

They rang me back that very morning and asked me to come in the same day to see one of the nurse practitioners. She arranged a fast-track ultrasound, which came through in less than ten days.

The ultrasound involved both external and internal scans.

The sonographer seemed quite young, but was fantastically understanding. She explained that she’d experienced an internal ultrasound herself so she could better appreciate what patients went through.

What a refreshing approach!

From what she could see, things appeared reasonably reassuring. Unfortunately, she couldn’t measure the thickness of my womb lining because a fibroid was sitting right over the area she needed to examine.

After that, things went a little off the boil and I found myself chasing the results.

Eventually, I had a consultation with a gynaecologist who was extremely thorough in taking my medical history. He even asked whether I’d ever suffered from bronchitis.

He was understandably frustrated that the ultrasound hadn’t provided the measurement he needed.
And then came something rather unexpected.
A diagnosis of adenomyosis.

Adeno-what?

Adenomyosis (pronounced ad-en-oh-my-OH-sis) is a condition where tissue that normally lines the inside of the womb starts growing into the muscular wall of the womb.

Put simply, the womb lining grows where it shouldn’t – inside the muscle itself.

This misplaced tissue can respond to hormonal changes during the menstrual cycle, causing inflammation, painful contractions and sometimes extremely heavy bleeding.

And suddenly, a great many things from my younger years began to make sense.

The horrific cramps. The agonising periods. The bleeding that sometimes seemed determined to drain me of every last drop. And, quite possibly, the reason my iron levels were so low in later years – the cumulative effect of all that relentless bleeding.

At last, an explanation. Only about half a century too late.

I had suffered appalling period pain and seriously heavy bleeding for years, yet nobody had ever thought to investigate whether there might be an underlying condition.

I could go through a super-plus Tampax in 30 minutes. Yes, really. That’s how heavy the bleeding could be.

At one point, fairly soon after starting my periods, I bled continuously for six weeks.

SIX WEEKS.

It then stopped for a glorious six days before starting all over again for another ten.

The cost of sanitary protection was ridiculous, particularly back in the days when VAT was still charged on it. This always irked me enormously, especially when men’s razors seemed to enjoy more favourable treatment.

And the technology wasn’t anything like as effective as today’s products. After weeks of having to wear sanitary pads, I’d be left feeling horribly sore and uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, my school friends would cheerfully announce that their periods had settled into lovely, predictable monthly cycles.

Lucky them.

Mine appeared to operate according to some entirely different calendar, probably one devised by a particularly vindictive medieval torturer.

I simply assumed that was how things were going to be.

Looking back, it makes me furious that such debilitating symptoms could be endured for years without anyone seriously questioning why.

Back to the consulting room

Having established that he couldn’t determine the thickness of my womb lining from the ultrasound, the gynaecologist recommended another hysteroscopy and biopsy, together with the insertion of a Mirena coil.

He even offered to carry out the procedure there and then.

Twice.

Absolutely not. Hard no. Not a chance.

I had no intention of repeating my previous experience while fully conscious.

I’d also heard enough uncomfortable stories about the insertion and removal of coils to be distinctly unenthusiastic about that particular addition to the proceedings.

I told him, in no uncertain terms, that I would not undergo another hysteroscopy and biopsy without a general anaesthetic.

He also recommended that I have a hysterectomy within the next two years. Frankly, I’d rather get on with it sooner, but the NHS waiting list may have other ideas.

Quite a lot to take in during one consultation.

Enter Baldrick, a beaded belt and a general anaesthetic

And so we arrive at my second hysteroscopy, just over a week ago.
This time, I was having the procedure under general anaesthetic.

And what a difference in the overall experience.
All the hospital staff were brilliant.

The anaesthetist sounded uncannily like Baldrick from Blackadder – and, come to think of it, looked rather like him too. Thankfully, there was no cunning plan involving turnips.

The female surgeon attending to me was also lovely. She inserted a vaginal pessary intended to soften and relax the cervix to make the procedure easier and more comfortable.

Not that I noticed a great deal of benefit afterwards, but more on that shortly.

She also admired my beaded belt, which was a rather nice distraction from the proceedings.

At least I was allowed to lie down on a bed for 20 minutes while the pessary took effect, rather than being abandoned in a soulless, chilly waiting room contemplating my impending fate.

But my favourite member of staff that day was undoubtedly the junior anaesthetist.

As she was wheeling my trolley along, she suddenly stopped and dashed over to check my date of birth on the computer screen.

Apparently, I looked far too young to be 62.

Now THAT is a girl who knows how to make friends and influence people.

If anyone from the hospital happens to be reading this, I thoroughly recommend her for immediate promotion.

Coming round – and asking for the good stuff

When I came round in recovery, I was extremely snoozy and decidedly uncomfortable.
In fact, uncomfortable is putting it mildly.

I asked for pain relief, which was administered through the cannula in my hand.
Unfortunately, it didn’t quite do the trick.

A little while later, I asked for more.
Another quick injection, followed by that peculiar cool sensation as the saline flush travelled through the cannula.

Still painful.
By the third request, the nurse asked what procedure I’d had and exactly where the pain was.

At that point, the penny finally dropped.

The third dose did the trick.

And as I lay there, contemplating the rather unpleasant sensations I’d experienced after the procedure, I was triply glad I’d insisted on a general anaesthetic.

If it hurt that much afterwards, I was certainly glad I hadn’t been awake for the main event.

Even the nurse practitioner agreed

Quite by chance, four days later I was due an HRT review with my nurse practitioner, at the gynaecologist’s request.

Naturally, I told her about the hysteroscopy, my previous experience and just how relieved I was to have had the second procedure under general anaesthetic.

I also explained how much pain I’d experienced on coming round.

Her response was rather reassuring.

She was furious that so many women were still undergoing these procedures without adequate pain relief or a proper discussion about their options.

And she told me emphatically that she wouldn’t personally agree to one without a general anaesthetic.

Well, that made two of us.

My womb, my choice

Now, I know that not every woman finds a hysteroscopy excruciating.

Some sail through it with relatively little discomfort. Others find it unpleasant but manageable.

And then there are women like me, for whom the experience is nothing short of agonising.

The trouble is that you don’t necessarily know which category you’ll fall into until you’re lying there with your legs in stirrups.

And by then, it’s rather late to discover that your pain threshold and the procedure are spectacularly incompatible.

So my message to the Aphrodite community is this:

If you’re offered a hysteroscopy, particularly one involving a womb biopsy, please ask about ALL your pain relief and anaesthetic options before agreeing to the procedure.

If you want a general anaesthetic, ask whether it’s appropriate and available for you. Discuss sedation and other forms of pain relief too.

For me, having a general anaesthetic was absolutely the right decision. I wouldn’t willingly have that procedure awake again.

There are risks and benefits to every option, of course, and those deserve a proper conversation with your medical team.

But what I object to is women being led to believe that a procedure will be merely a little uncomfortable when, for some, it can be anything but.

We deserve honest explanations, informed choices and pain relief that takes our experiences seriously.

Because being a woman should not mean having to grin, bear it and accept pain as part of the package.

And if someone tells you it’ll be ‘just a little pinch’, I suggest asking exactly whose definition of little they’re using.

Aphrodite’s Note

There seems to be a rather long-standing assumption that women’s pain is simply something we’re expected to put up with.

Periods hurt. Childbirth hurts. Gynaecological procedures might be ‘a little uncomfortable’.

Well, there’s uncomfortable and there’s feeling as though someone is conducting medieval warfare on your reproductive organs.

And the two should never be confused.

Here’s something that might surprise you.

According to the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists (RCOG), around one in three women undergoing an outpatient hysteroscopy reported pain of seven or more out of ten.

One in three!

That’s an extraordinary number of women experiencing significant pain during what is often described as a routine procedure.

Of course, many women undergo hysteroscopy with little discomfort. But others, like Madeleine Spencer and me, have experiences that stay with us for years.

Surely, in 2026, we should have moved beyond expecting women to grit their teeth, be brave and suffer in silence?

Pain relief shouldn’t be an afterthought. It should be part of the conversation before the procedure even begins.

You have the right to ask what pain relief is available, to discuss sedation or general anaesthesia and to request that the procedure stops if you find it too painful.

A general anaesthetic isn’t necessarily appropriate for everyone, but it should be a choice you can discuss rather than an option you discover only after a traumatic experience.

And please, if you experience any bleeding after menopause, however slight, get it checked. Most cases aren’t caused by cancer, but it’s important to rule out anything serious.

My second experience proved that compassionate, considerate medical care can make an enormous difference.

Your body. Your pain. Your choice.

And as for ‘just a little pinch’? I think that particular expression deserves to be retired, preferably without anaesthetic.

Cassandra | 62 | Kent

Find out more

If you’re facing a hysteroscopy, womb biopsy or experiencing unexplained bleeding, these trusted UK resources explain what to expect, what your options are and when to seek medical advice.

Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists Outpatient hysteroscopy 
Particularly useful information about pain relief, informed consent and your right to request that a procedure stops. 
Includes guidance on discussing sedation and general anaesthesia.

NHS  Hysteroscopy 
A straightforward explanation of the procedure, why it’s performed, what happens during a biopsy and what expect afterwards.

NHS  Adenomyosis 
Explains the condition, its possible symptoms and available treatments.
Options for managing heavy bleeding and painful periods.

NHS –Postmenopausal bleeding 
Why even a small amount of unexpected bleeding after menopause should be investigated, and what tests may be offered.

NHS  Hysterectomy Information 
Explains the different types of hysterectomy, reasons for the operation, recovery and potential risks.