I've been suffering from the symptoms of endometriosis for years.
I say "symptoms" because until last week, no one had told me, definitively, that my corporeal enemy was, in fact, endometriosis. Until last week, I was crazy.
For the last few months, it has become an every day struggle to "keep it real" and do my job, be a wife, make plans with friends, etc. My life has significantly changed, and since December 2011, I've never felt more isolated in my entire life.
After many months in 2011 with hormone therapy (that simulates menopause--yes, I was 28 and having hot flashes), I felt like I had exhausted my options. I had decided that Lupron injections did not suit my body and my needs. In fact, throughout the better part of a year, I felt like I was dead, like I was a person functioning in the shell of a body which used to be Jess. To be clear, from December 2010 until August 2011, I was given injections of Depo Lupron, a hormone which simulates menopause and shuts down your baby factory. For some folks, this therapy works great. For others, it is accompanied by horrible side effects, including hot flashes, night sweats, migraines, loss of sex drive, weight gain, fatigue and depression. This is the part where I mention that I had ALL of these side effects. In short: it was hell.
With Lupron seemingly off the table of options, my OB/GYN told me that my best choice of therapy was to get pregnant, like, RIGHT NOW. For those of you who know me, I am a hard core believer in (women's) rights to make your own life decisions, to devote your attention to your profession, your education, to raise children, etc. But it's MY choice. Not my doctor's. The day my doctor told me that I needed to have a baby or "get off the pot," I cried right there on the examination table. I felt judged and belittled. I felt like my body was viewed as a mere vessel of reproduction rather than a human being. I wanted to tell my doctor: "Hey, wait a second, buddy. I'm a young professional, graduate student, aspiring writer who happens to also have female anatomy." But I couldn't say anything. Instead I just sat there, silent. And cried.
Until last week, I had seen a myriad of doctors and been treated for a series of things: IBS, nerve entrapment, pelvic myalgia, lower back pain and sciatica, to name a few. Yet no one was able to put the pieces together. A few weeks ago, during a bout of pain and a dreaded trip to the ER, I was all but treated like a drug addict when the nurse looked at my chart. "You were given percocet 6 weeks ago by your family doctor. You should still have some left." Through tears, I replied, "But I don't. I had an ovarian cyst the size of my fist. I was taking 5 pills a day just to make it through." She was not impressed: "Well, I can tell you this right now, you're not getting any percocet from me today." Thanks, lady. Also, I so very much enjoy taking trips to the ER and appreciate paying the $100 for care you refuse to give me.
Until last week, I thought I was crazy. I stopped expressing my concern for my symptoms, tried arduously to maintain normalcy in my life and pretty much gave up all hope that I would ever feel "normal" again. Instead of being proactive, I felt ashamed to even have medical problems. All I ever heard from doctors was, "You're a healthy 26,27,28,29 year old. You shouldn't be having pain like this." Well, to be frank: Fuck you.
I am. So there.
When you look up the symptoms of endometriosis online, you might find a list that looks like this:
- Painful periods (dysmenorrhea). Pelvic pain and cramping may begin before and extend several days into your period and may include lower back and abdominal pain.
- Pain with intercourse. Pain during or after sex is common with endometriosis.
- Pain with bowel movements or urination. You're most likely to experience these symptoms during your period.
- Excessive bleeding. You may experience occasional heavy periods (menorrhagia) or bleeding between periods (menometrorrhagia).
- Infertility. Endometriosis is first diagnosed in some women who are seeking treatment for infertility.
- Other symptoms. You may also experience fatigue, diarrhea, constipation, bloating or nausea, especially during menstrual periods.
- Shame. A feeling you may have when your life decisions are questioned by medical practitioners.
- Guilt. For all the times you've taken off work, RSVP'd "no" to a social invite, neglected your chores around the house, said "no" to your spouse when they want to have sex because you're afraid it might hurt.
- Fear. That every time you start to feel the pain creeping throughout your insides, sense the cramping, gnawing, throbbing pain radiate throughout your lower abdomen, you'll need to take a trip to the ER. Because, when you get there, all they'll do is tell you you're not dying and send you home.
- Stupidity. Because even though it's your body and you know what's normal for you, someone else believes you have IBS or nerve entrapment. They don't care about putting the puzzle pieces together; they just want to solve your symptoms piece meal. Besides, it's easier to put a bandaid over problems than get to the root of them.
- Lunacy. You're healthy. No way you can be in this much pain. You're not getting pain meds today; don't you know they can be potentially addictive even though you are responsible at managing your pain with them? You can't be trusted to have a prescription; you're just a silly girl with silly girl problems. Go back home and remember to throw that load of laundry in the dryer.
- Abandonment. When your doctor decides that he or she can no longer treat you because either they're not experts or that they've done everything they can to help you. It's out of their hands now.
- Other symptoms. Like realizing your life has been drastically changed by a condition that was not your choice to have in the first place.
Wow. What an incredible perspective. Throughout my journey, I had noted the oppressive nature of medicine whereas your doctor is the gatekeeper of knowledge, and you're literally at the mercy of their expertise, waiting for their medical know-how to rescue you from an ocean of ignorance. But Dr. Harkins (Penn State Hershey) is different; he wants me to know what's going on in my body. He wants to educate me about my condition. He gave me the ability to choose some options: "We can choose from various options or we can start over again."
So I said: "Let's start all over again." And I started to cry. Tears of hope this time.