I don’t want to forget how crap I feel right now.
Because when you forget, you get complacent. You shrug it off. You hide your feelings for the sake of making life easy. And that gets us nowhere.
As I sit here, with deep heat patches stuck to my back, surrounded by pillows, oil diffuser, pain meds, tissues, chocolate, and all of the comfy bedding I own, I can’t get past the aching that is in my body. The heaviness. That familiar feeling of defeat.
And its all because of one, single word: inflammation.
Well F inflammation and what it does to me, and everyone who suffers Endo.
I’d like to take inflammation out on a nice dinner date to ask it a few things, and then sneak up on it at dessert and treat it how it treats me.
Two days ago, I was busy minding my own business at my desk when all of a sudden, I took a deep breath and got a shot of searing pain in my right chest. Now, at the time, I didn’t think much of it, maybe a stitch, or maybe indigestion. When it was still there with every deep breath, 12 hours later, and I was lying awake in pain, I still didn’t think that much except how tired I was going to be the next day. Fast forward another 8 hours to yet another GP telling me: “it’s probably nothing, don’t worry about it”. Well, when she saw me almost faint when I stood up, she changed her mind and sent me straight to the ER.
Off I shuttled, book in hand, ready for the waiting game.
I was X-rayed. I was prodded. Poked. Zapped. Injected. Fed some godalmighty horrid “food”.
It wasn’t my heart they said.
What about Endo? I said.
I highly doubt it they said.
With a chuckle and a brush off they were gone, leaving a doctor’s certificate, and instructions to take some Panadol.
Apparently while my heart shows no cardiac issues, my lung lining was inflamed.
Now. I am no stranger to inflammation I tried to explain this to the doctors and nurses, who barely gave me a second glance as soon as the E word was brought up.
My brain went into overdrive. Why is it so impossible that the two are linked? Why am I the crazy one? I have had doctors up the wazoo tell me “it’s probably nothing” and it turn out to be so much worse, all because they didn’t know enough about it to believe it, or that because it doesn’t show up on an X-Ray it mustn’t be real. When doctors train to be doctors, aren’t the taught about all kinds of illnesses and diseases and viruses and infections? If there is a disease that affects TEN PER CENT OF THE POPULATION of women, why then is it still such a mystery?
Why are the people with Endo the ones fighting this battle and not the doctors treating them?
(Note to doctors who are on our team– I do not mean you. You ladies and gents are the bomb.)
It’s already hard enough that our friends and family (who aren’t trained medical professionals) find the concept of Endo difficult and confusing, but it felt like a slap in the face that a doctor in Emergency didn’t want to even consider the possibilities.
Today, as I hobble out of bed to get my dose of pain meds and strap on another coat of armour, I am furious.
Pleurisy. That’s what I was ‘diagnosed’ with. Well, a quick google of ‘Pleurisy and Endometriosis’ comes up with the following:
So, hang on. I totally understand that doing a Dr Google search is generally a no-no, but hear me out. If it’s so impossible, then why are there so many links and information? Maybe, the doctors are right. Maybe it’s just coincidental. And if so, then so be it.
At this point, I feel like I may as well be trying to convince doctors that Endo is as real as a unicorn riding a mermaid.
I am wiped out. Sore. Sad. Heavy. And I am just one person. There are so many of us out there who go through this and so much more every single day.
I can not wait for the day when I do not feel so defeated.
If you do one thing today, share this. Or share something about Endo. Its Endometriosis Awareness Month. It needs to be talked about. If not for me, then for your friends. Family. Mothers. Sisters. Aunts. Teachers. Doctors. Daughters. Nieces. Granddaughters.
We might be 1 in 10, but we can certainly make some noise.