Dear Friends and Family

I always hate writing these "Oh no! I haven't written on the blog for "x" amount of time because "y" happened or I got really busy... but I'll make it up now posts. I feel like this time I have a pretty legitimate reason for not getting around to it. For the past few months I have been a doctor's dream patient! I've been in and out of the hospital enough times to last me the next 5 years!

Here's the story:

*Disclaimer: I might get a little TMI for some of you. I'm of the opinion that if more women talked about their health openly, we'd be able to accept our bodies as they are, and we'd be much more educated as far as how our bodies work. No talkie=No knowie and No knowie=Scared of everythingie. Not cool.

Let me put it this way: I will NOT be using icky words or giving graphic details, but if you don't want to see words like "cramps" or "bleeding", then just skip to the last three paragraphs.

HISTORY: It's been a necessity for me to take intense, prescription pain medicine to manage my pain levels when cramping for a few years now. I've been to several doctors, and each one has stepped up the prescription from the last one, because it no longer worked. After each new prescription, I'd go home and say things like "This can't be normal."
"Am I just a sissy?"
"There has to be something that isn't right."
"This is too much medicine! I'm a little person! I shouldn't need this to just lead a normal life!"

The Saturday after Halloween was really when my life took its first spin down crazy lane. We helped a family in our ward move, and I felt great. Right as we were finishing up, I started to cramp a little bit. By the time I had walked across the street to my car, it was bad enough that I had to take several deep breaths before I could safely drive the car.

I thankfully made it home safely, changed into some comfy pajamas, and took my prescribed medicine. I then sat on the couch with a heating pad and tried to breathe through the intensifying pain for another 20-30 minutes while I waited for the medicine to kick in, and for Nick to get home.

On any other day, I would have felt better in a while, then I would have started sighing a lot. This bothers Nick, but he deals with it because it's better than watching me be in pain. Sometimes he even thinks its funny... as long as we're not stuck in the car on a long drive. Then he's like...

Unfortunately, Saturday was not just "any other day". When Nick arrived, he took one look at my face and asked if he needed to take me to the hospital. That wasn't the first time he'd asked that in our married life, so I turned him down. Less than 10 minutes later I changed my mind. I was in so much pain I couldn't think about anything else. I couldn't walk, I could barely talk, and even breathing hurt. Just the process of standing up, putting on shoes and a jacket, then walking out and getting in the car was excruciating.  Every bump in the road made it worse, which is a problem when you live in a small town that consists of almost entirely lumpy roads. On the way there, my hands went numb.

Fortunately, the bonus of living in a small town is that the hospital is only a 10 minute drive away if you catch a red light and bad traffic. After some confusion about whether or not they'd let me in a room or make me wait outside, a very kind nurse realized I couldn't make the walk back to the waiting room and let me lay down. The next half hour was full of heated blankets, deep breaths, medical histories and morphine. I barely even noticed the IV going in.

They were convinced I was pregnant and having a miscarriage. They insisted on an ultrasound and a pregnancy test, both of which came back negative. Really the only thing the doctor could find wrong with me was that my potassium was low, so they gave me a supplement and sent me home once the pain was under control.

At least they sent me home with a cool-colored arm wrap, right?



By the way, if you ever want to feel completely ridiculous, try telling people you went to the ER on a Saturday because you had cramps. They're always like..

After that trip to the ER, I finally decided to start listening to my gut. This couldn't be normal. There had to be something wrong. Normal people don't have to make trips to the ER because their prescription pain medicine doesn't help period cramps.

So I saw a doctor. I told him how the cramps have been progressively worse for my entire life. I told him about all the different prescriptions. I told him about the ER visit.

He told me I had endometriosis. He said we could do surgery to be 100% sure, but that he didn't even know if that was necessary. I told him it was necessary, because I was tired of wondering. I needed to know.

A week later, it was hospital gowns at 6 in the morning,

 a really odd picture of me coming out of it (with a fat lip),

and a definite diagnosis. 

For those of you going "What is endometriosis?" here's a brief explanation: 

The cells that line the inside of the uterus are called the endometrium. Women with endometriosis have these cells in the wrong places. I had these cells on my pelvis and several organs in my abdomen. Doctors don't know for sure how they get there, although there are a few theories. When a woman has a cycle, normally these cells build and shed, which results in a period. When a woman with endometriosis has a cycle, these cells build and shed, no matter where they are. 

Lots of women have this, but many of them have no idea. For some women, they have no symptoms at all. Others are only diagnosed with it because they were having trouble getting pregnant and went in to find out why. Some women, like me, have extreme pain. The cells can even grow and adhere organs to each other, which causes an additional shearing pain when they build/shed. I was lucky that I had no adhesion problems.

The pain level is also no indicator as to how severe the condition is. A woman could have no pain at all, yet have widespread endometriosis. Another could have severe pain with only a small instance of the condition.

Endometriosis can also cause infertility.

The kicker with endometriosis is that there is no cure, no way to get rid of it. They can treat the symptoms through three methods.

1. Surgery to cauterize the cells where they can be seen. 

2. Birth control to eliminate or minimize periods.

3. Pain management.

Endometriosis can be tiny, but it continues to grow as long as you're having cycles. This means that surgery can't get all of it, and it will grow back afterward.

The only known method to be 100% rid of the symptoms is to remove the organs that cause cycles, which are also the organs that produce children. 

Nick and I had a blunt conversation before the surgery, and discussed the possibility that they might find it was widespread enough that they'd have to remove everything. I told him he had my permission to make that call while I was under if need be. Fortunately he didn't have to.

Recovery from surgery took a couple of weeks for me. Between the bubbles under my ribs, the beautiful flowers my family sent to me, and the husband watching with hawk-like focus making sure I didn't lift anything heavier than a milk jug, I recovered without incident. 

I was so nervous to see if the surgery improved my pain levels, and I tried desperately to be optimistic about the change I'd see. I cried when I had to take one of my post-surgery pain pills to get the pain under control on the next cycle. Were it not for the fact that the definite diagnosis finally gave me a name, a reason for all of this, I would have felt as if I had put my body through all of that trauma for nothing. The peace in mind in knowing what I was up against made it worth it, even though it was crushing to find out it hadn't improved my symptoms.

I had another long conversation with Nick about treatment plans. With surgery done, I only had two options left: birth control or regular doses of pain medicine. I was on BC pills once before, and it sent my emotions into a depressive tailspin, so I was very wary of that option. I also feel like it's unfairly rough on my body to subject it to intense pain medication on a regular basis. It's also hard to be heavily medicated a few days a month, not to mention the fact that's it's illegal for me to drive while I'm dosed up. 

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, we agonized over the decision for a while before finally coming to the conclusion that an IUD would be the most logical next step in trying to develop a treatment plan that would be effective. 

About a month ago I had the IUD procedure done, and we're still waiting to see if it will be effective. For the three weeks after placement, I bled lightly and painfully cramped nightly without any change. When I called the nurse to ask if that was normal, she called in a prescription for one month of BC pills to try to help my body regulate itself with its new equipment. I've been on the pills for about a week now and haven't noticed any change. 

The pain was once again severe enough last night that I had to take another post-surgery pill, and then I broke down crying asking Nick "Am I ever going to not be in pain again? I am so tired. So tired of hurting. Is it ever going to stop?"

There aren't good answers to that question. But there are good husbands. He made me a piece of toast to eat with the medicine, and sat me down to tell me that it was "Everything will be alright" toast. Once I ate it I would feel better. 

I don't know how I would have made it through these last couple of months without him.

I've also been trying really hard to pay attention to my emotions to try to see if the BC is making me act or react differently than I normally would. It's unsettling to not be able to trust my own emotions. I have a difficult enough time deciphering if others' emotions are genuine, and now I even have to question my own authenticity? Lame. Fortunately, I only have to deal with these pills for a month, so I'm not too worried about it.

So that is what has brought us here, to this point. I know the whole tone of this post was rather melodramatic. I simply wanted it to be honest, and true to my emotions at the time. The honest-to-goodness truth of the matter is this: I have endometriosis. It's not life-threatening. It is somewhere life-altering. There's nothing I can do to change it or make it go away, so there is no point in stressing out about it, beating myself up over it, or wondering why. The only plan I can have is to hold my head up, own it, and look forward to the future. There will always be bridges to cross in our lives, and this just happens to be one of mine. 

It also helps to know that I've been promised I won't ever be given a challenge that I can't handle. I've had moments where that little thought was the only thing that kept me going, and I'm sure I'll have more throughout my life and the other challenges we'll face. It's pretty cool knowing we have a big brother that's looking out for us, and that knows what we're going through, isn't it?

I'm also hoping to start conversations and get people talking. Almost everyone we've talked to about this has said "Oh, my (mom, sister, cousin, aunt) has that!" This isn't a weird, taboo subject. This is a part of life for millions of women, and I think it's healthy to talk about it freely, openly, and respectfully with those that wish to do so. There's a community of women out there that have already been through what I have, and the little stories and advice I have found online has already been tremendously helpful. So please, if you know someone struggling with a recent endometriosis diagnosis, send them my way. I'd love to join the conversation. :)