Today at work I broke down, cried—which really wouldn’t be the first time—loaded up on way much junk food from 7-Eleven—also not the first time. Now I’m sitting at home with two cats curled up by my side waiting for some barbeque to get delivered.
I’ve been in pain the past two days. Nothing too unusual, just your typical endo related cramps and stabbing pain. And that’s why I broke down. Not unusual. Typical. This—this pain, this discomfort, this missing work because all I want to do is curl into a little ball and pass out—this is now my reality. It’s my reality pretty much for the rest of my life. Or menopause.
My doctor recommended against surgery. She said it was likely to just grow back, and there was no need for surgery after surgery. That I really shouldn’t plan on having the surgery until I wanted to start a family. And that would involve me completely stopping my medication, and needing to start trying for a pregnancy immediately after the surgery, otherwise I was going to have to endure the immensely painful periods the medication was preventing.
As is apparent, my medication is not perfect. I still experience pain, and though it’s infrequent—sometimes less than once a month—it still keeps me from work. It keeps me from my life. And more-so, it reminds me that I am broken.
I cannot control my pain, but I have to go through so much planning and hoops and effort just for a family. Something I thought would just come spontaneously and naturally with a spouse one day far down the road. Instead of “hey honey, guess what?” it’s waiting and hoping and trying trying trying until the deed is done. All of this with the added pressure that the longer it takes the more pain I will have to endure.
I’m not ready for any of this. I don’t want this. But this disease has probably been with me for longer than I’ve known. I mean, they don’t know what causes it. They don’t know how to cure it. It’s been nearly 3 years since I was hospitalized, I feel like I should have been prepared for all of this.
We’re monitoring my situation, which is sort of how we’ll deal with keeping this presumption that it’s endometriosis without doing the surgery needed to diagnosis it. I’ll go back in for more ultrasounds in a few months. I don’t know how often we’ll repeat this process. And while the idea of not having a cycle until I have the surgery is slightly appealing to me, I’m not so sure how good it’ll be in the long run for my body.
I want to talk to my doctor again about why we’re not doing the surgery. Many women have had it and been fine after. I want to know what makes me different. If I can be one-and-done, then let’s do it. Let’s try it. If it grows back, then we’ll go back to the original plan and just wait it out until I start a family. But I at least want to try. If there is any slight chance that I could be pain free… I have to try.