laparoscopy endometriosis

The Road to Baby: Fertility and Endometriosis Treatment

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Kelsey Chin

Waning Fertility

I have always wanted to be a mother. Growing up around my grandmother’s day care, I relished taking on nurturing roles from a young age. I have always enjoyed spending time with children, reading to my younger cousins, and making up games for us play. I even earned my degree as an Early Childhood Educator, and have dreams of someday writing children’s books. My decision to work as a nanny while I finish my graduate degree has changed my outlook on my career goals, and I now hope to open my own preschool in the future. Caring for children has always come naturally to me, and has become my passion. At the age of 28, I am now four years past my peak fertility, according to several reproductive endocrinologists I have seen. Even though I am young, in the area of reproductive medicine, I have already lost the most fertile years of my life. This comes as no surprise to me. Knowing I have endometriosis, I expected that I would have trouble getting pregnant. I never expected how intense my road toward baby would be.

Endometriosis and Fertility

My husband and I were already together when I was first given my tentative diagnosis of endometriosis at the age of 22. In the same breath, my doctor assured me that she would get me pregnant, “even if we have to do in-vitro fertilization (IVF)!” I nearly fainted. Right then and there. I had barely graduated from college, and was still years away from starting a family! My fertility loomed over my relationship with my husband for nearly 5 years before it became a tangible part of our life together. My first laparoscopic surgeon informed us at my post-operative appointment that after trying birth control pills, progesterone, Lupron, and surgery to manage my then-stage III endometriosis, I was out of options and needed to get pregnant immediately.

My husband and I were given the choice to start trying for a baby, or go back on suppressive therapy, meant to eliminate estrogen and stall the growth of the disease. Pregnancy and breast feeding can offer a period of relief from endometriosis pain, since the body does not menstruate. For me, suppressive therapy options were Lupron or Mirena, both invasive and potentially dangerous treatments. I did not want to go back on easier methods, including progesterone pills, which my body could not tolerate. I had already tried progesterone for four years, and had suffered medical and emotional side effects. There was no easy choice.

I had wanted to start a family for years, but my husband and I were not in a place financially or otherwise to get pregnant, so we chose to go with Lupron while we got our ducks in a row, and told our families. Unlike my first experience with Lupron injections, this time, the Lupron did not help; I was still in excruciating pain during my period, and I even lost some hair and bone density. With our options at an end three months later, we started trying to conceive.

Although I was excited about becoming a mother, the following months were some of the most stressful of my life. With the looming return of my disease while being “untreated,” the immediacy of our need to conceive was overwhelming. When most couples decide to start a family, there might be a period of excitement, some adjustment, and taking the process slowly, while hoping that a positive pregnancy test (or Big Fat Positive to us online groupies) might happen easily. I jumped straight into charting my basal body temperature, cervical mucus, and peeing on sticks to see if my luteinizing hormone had triggered ovulation. I bought a stack of pregnancy books, and a few hard-to-come-by infertility books. So much for romance! I soon began using an app on my smart phone to track all the data for me, which sent me into an obsession with checking my chart every hour (for no reason whatsoever), in the hopes that today might be the day my precious egg would pop. But it never did.

Trying to Conceive: The Complications

Two months into my trying to conceive (TTC) journey, my obgyn suggested a reproductive endocrinologist. Most women get 6 months to a year before seeing a fertility specialist, but my doctor wanted me on the fast track. We were using a pregnancy as a treatment, a chunk of time without period pain, so we had no time to delay. One late evening visit later to a specialist at Brigham & Women’s, I was diagnosed with an anovulatory cycle (no ovulation), and given 5 days worth of the fertility drug Clomid to begin taking once my next period arrived. Five days after my 28th birthday, I started my first fertility treatment.

Unfortunately for me, the RE who prescribed these drugs did not monitor my hormone levels or the size of my follicles. I was told how to time intercourse, and to call the office when I got a positive pregnancy test or started my period. I ended up developing right side abdominal pain, something I was fairly accustomed to, and which the resident in my RE’s office found to be a nearly 5cm complex cyst. To my dismay, the RE could not fit me into her schedule for over a month. I was left to wait and see what happened. When my next period arrived (no BFP for me), so did the most intense pain and bleeding I had ever experienced. After nearly fainting from the blood loss, and doubling over in pain, a trip to the ER confirmed that the cyst had ruptured. The nurse at my RE’s office suggested taking a month off of fertility drugs to heal, then starting up again, but could not fit me in for an appointment for several more weeks.

I was shocked by how unimportant I seemed to this doctor. Why didn’t she feel like a ruptured endometrioma might warrant squeezing me into her schedule? Wasn’t my advanced disease serious enough? I guess she figured that was my obgyn’s job, but she had prescribed the fertility drugs that sent my hormone levels soaring, likely causing a flare in my endometriosis. Did she not feel she was somewhat responsible for my care? I felt abandoned. I never went back to that RE.

I decided to take that month, and do some research of my own. My obgyn suggested IVF when I saw her to follow up about the cyst. It was all happening too fast! I had always wanted to avoid IVF, which I found too invasive and highly taxing. Not to mention I was in my last semester of graduate school, and doing an internship. At this point, my husband and I had only been trying for four months. Most couples get three times that amount of time before considering daily injections, multiple embryos, and possibly life-threatening complications. Tears rolled down my face as I read books about other women’s experiences with IVF, and spoke to others like me on fertility forums about the process. I was not ready for this.

Excision Surgery

I began researching endometriosis and excision surgery, a technique few gynecological surgeons can perform adequately. It involves cutting the endometriosis out like a cancer to ensure that all of the disease is completely removed. After immersing myself in endometriosis literature and surgical sites, I considered several excision specialists from all over the US. Eventually, I found a plan that would work for me, and a doctor I felt I could trust.

I flew to St. Louis in June to have an excision surgery, despite obvious contention from my obgyn and the IVF specialist she recommended in her practice. They could not understand why I would fly halfway across the country when there were plenty of doctors here. My obgyn’s argument was that my first surgery had complications, and my recovery period was long. However, my gut told me that I had made the right choice. In the end, my surgeon found that my disease had progressed rapidly in the 11 months since my first surgery, far beyond anyone’s expectations. Besides the involvement of my bladder, bowel, ureters, rectum, appendix, and pelvic lining, the disease had ravaged my reproductive organs. Both of my ovaries had endometriomas, were being pulled behind my uterus, and attached to the back of my pelvis. My left fallopian tube was kinked shut. Adhesions, sticky bands of scar tissue, had distorted my anatomy to the point where nearly all of my pelvic organs were stuck together. My surgeon worked for six hours, even reconstructing my ovaries to avoid leaving raw tissue exposed and vulnerable to more damage. At my post-operative appointment, we discussed my options for fertility, and made a plan.

Road to Baby – Back on Track

Now, 10 months after starting on the Road to Baby, we are trying on our own naturally, without the help of fertility drugs. My first and only experience with pumping my body full of hormones was enough to turn me off of it completely! For me, the experience caused real damage to my body, and I am not eager to do it again. It feels like we are starting over, with a fresh canvas. We found a local fertility specialist who comes recommended by endometriosis patients like me who believe excision is the answer to this disease. He seems on board with our decision to wait a little longer before considering drastic measures. IVF may still be an option for us if we continue to struggle, or if there is any male factor infertility, something none of my previous doctors even bothered to test for. But for now, no one is pressuring us to jump in a race car and speed toward the finish line. We have time to take in the scenery and enjoy the ride together.

And that’s exactly how it should have been all along.

 

About the Author: Kelsey is an Early Childhood Educator and blogger from the Boston area. She chronicles her journey using sewing as a positive outlet while living with chronic pain and Stage IV Endometriosis. Diagnosed at 22, Kelsey has spent six years learning about her disease, and has recently become active in Endometriosis research and advocacy. She is a published poet who dreams of writing children’s books, and opening her own preschool that supports reading development. To read more about Kelsey’s daily dabblings in sewing, as well as recipes, preschool curriculum ideas, and information about endometriosis, visit her blog at www.silverrosewing.blogspot.com

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Not Endometriosis. Now What?

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I was functioning under the assumption that I had endometriosis. It seemed the most likely disease based in the information given me by my doctors. I underwent a diagnostic laparoscopy and waited for my surgeon to follow up with me.

It’s Not Endometriosis

As it turns out, I don’t have endometriosis and my internal structures appear normal. I’ve been referred to a pain management specialist. It has been suggested that I might see a neurologist as well. “If we can’t find the cause, we can at least treat the symptoms. You may have a rare form of cystitis, or you may not. Please try to focus on the good news: you don’t have cysts or tumors or scar tissue,” said my surgeon. I admit I was very disappointed in a strange way. It’s the very human need for an explanation. Without a known cause, how can we stop this from returning again?

Four days after surgery, I got food poisoning. I recovered after five days.

However, now I am terribly dizzy and have severe fatigue. Is it related to the endometriosis-like abdominal pain or something else? I can barely stay awake. In fact, I sleep most of the day and night. It’s not sleepiness. I simply cannot stay conscious. I’m always hungry and eating, but I’m losing weight slowly. There is ringing in my ears on and off. I find myself confused by simple tasks. I tried to fry an egg on a good day and found I couldn’t lift the pan. I’ve fainted twice last week: once after a blood draw, and once just in my home after a stressful conversation.

My general practitioner has run blood tests for anemia, vitamin deficiency, diabetes, and thyroid disorders, as well as a comprehensive blood count. He also told me that most of the time, when trying to diagnose fatigue and dizziness, these blood tests come back normal. I should be prepared to search for other answers. Diabetes and thyroid disorders run in my family, and I’m really hoping it’s easily found out so I can find treatment soon. My ears were checked for infection, and they appear fine. He also suggested that it could be severe depression, but I’m not so sure. I’ve had depressive episodes before, and while I was sluggish and slow to make decisions, I wasn’t this dizzy or weak.

Symptoms that Led Us to Suspect Endometriosis

As for the pelvic pain, it started in late November, very sharp and stabbing on the right-hand side over my ovary over the course of two days, growing rapidly more painful. The ER docs said it was a ruptured ovarian cyst, and noted that when pressed, my left ovary was very tender and painful as well.

That pain was supposed to heal in three to five days and just didn’t, growing less stabbing. It was a constant ache, day and night, for four months over my right lower quadrant with intermittent sharp cramping. When pressed, my left lower quadrant was just as painful, but didn’t throb or cramp on its own.

A course of progesterone halved the pain. Birth control dampened it a bit more. Hot baths and heating pads also helped somewhat. Exercise made it much worse, as did standing and walking for even short periods or leaning over. Pelvic exams and ultrasounds also hurt very much. Going to the restroom hurt terribly.

What really helped was removing the benign tumor in my colon. Some of the pain had been very bad intestinal cramping throughout my abdomen. I have most of my mobility back now. Occasionally, it will feel like there are hot, throbbing points in my pelvis for about three to six hours at a time, usually on the right side. Advil, a heating pad or ice pack, and lying very, very still help.

Also, since November, my periods have been dreadful. Terrible cramps like I’ve never had, and the week before and after my period, I’m very tender throughout my pelvis and it feels like I’ve thrown my lower back out. They never used to be this way.

After the laparoscopy, where everything was found normal, I had sharp, hot throbbing for several days over my right ovary again. The surgeon said she has no explanation except for perhaps a very uncommon form of interstitial cystitis, but I don’t have half of those symptoms. Sitting in a moving car and long walks cause a sharp ache on the right side of my pelvis, but it isn’t constant like it was for three months beforehand. The pelvic pain comes and goes, and it’s about one-third of its former intensity. I don’t know what would cause it to come back full force and constantly, but I hope it never does.

After seven months of poor health, I’m baffled by all my tests returning normal. If it’s not endometriosis, then what is it? If these tests come back normal, I’m not sure what other steps to take.

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Lupron or Laparoscopy to Diagnose Endometriosis?

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I recently had my first pre-operative appointment for the diagnostic laparoscopy I’m having soon. I was nervous, and had a list of questions for my doctor. This was the second gynecologist I’d seen to discuss diagnosing endometriosis; my other doctor is too elderly to operate. She was frank and very straightforward.

 

“There are two options for diagnosis: a laparoscopy and chemically-induced menopause with Lupron. If we do a laparoscopy and find nothing, we still have other diagnostic options. It’s a good sign that you’re doing better after a brief time on hormone-replacement therapy and then extended-course birth control. If we do find nothing, we’ll try Lupron, which will chemically induce menopause. If Lupron doesn’t work, you don’t have endometriosis, and you’ll be looking at other tests. 

We’ll schedule you for one more pre-operative appointment where you can ask all the questions you have and you’ll register with the hospital where the surgery will be performed. You’ll go home the same day, and you should take it easy for three days. In two weeks, you’ll have a follow-up appointment where we’ll go over what we found inside your pelvis and check your surgery sites for infection. 

Then, assuming you do have endometriosis, we’re going to evaluate you every six months to a year. You’re going to tell me how much this disease is affecting your quality of life. If the pain and immobility returns within a year and your current treatment options stop working, we’ll try inducing menopause. 

Lupron has its risks, but it allows us to achieve valuable steps both in terms of symptoms and diagnosis. You’ll get an injection every three months. When you decide you want to try pregnancy or want to stop the course of treatment, you’ll stop the shots and return to your natural hormone cycle. The effects of this shot are reversible. If you do have endometriosis, Lupron will relieve all your symptoms. We’ll also know for certain that this is endometriosis. If you still experience pelvic pain and cramping while using Lupron, you don’t have endometriosis. The side effects may be intense, but it’s something to consider if you get worse over the next few decades.”

I told her I was worried about the surgery itself. It’s a very common diagnostic procedure; it’s minor surgery and thousands of women undergo it every year. However, a close relative of mine underwent a diagnostic laparoscopy in her early twenties for endometriosis and her doctors decided to give her a hysterectomy. Obviously, her health history was somewhat different and it was medically necessary. Still, it’s hard to sign up for a small procedure if you could wake up without one or both ovaries or all your reproductive organs.

She asked me when this happened. It was the 1970s. She leaned forward and said, “That was a very long time ago, and medicine has come a long way since then. The biggest difference is that there were no female surgeons and very little research on the risks of hysterectomies on very young women. We’re not going to remove any of your organs, no matter how bad the extent of your endometrial implants. You’re much too young, and your imaging shows no tumors or large cysts. There’s no reason to put you through that. You may decide you want to have children later in life, but that’s not the main motivation for keeping your organs. Where do your hormones come from?”

“My ovaries.”

“Yes, and they’re very important to your overall health. You need to keep them. If you were 50 and approaching menopause, we’d be having a different conversation. I want you to write down any questions you may have, but I don’t want you to be concerned with keeping your organs.”

We then went over what a laparoscopy is. I’ll be put under anesthesia and my abdomen will be inflated through my navel. The surgeon will insert an instrument to manipulate my uterus. She will then insert a very small camera through my navel and a cauterizing tool. If she finds evidence of endometriosis, she will use the cauterizing tool to ablate, or burn away, the endometrial tissue. I thought this would take hours. She said it should only take a very short time; the large time frame for the surgery is to regulate my sedation and anesthesia. After the ablation, my abdomen will be deflated and they will move me to recover from the anesthesia. I’ll go home the same day.

In another week, I’ll have one more pre-operative appointment where I can discuss some of the questions raised from responses on this site and register with the hospital where the surgery will be performed. I’m anxious, but I’ve done some research and feel comfortable with my choice of surgeon. With any luck, I’ll have a diagnosis and a treatment plan within another month.

Please note, Lupron can neither diagnose nor confirm endometriosis. Lupron was never approved for such uses. For more information, please click here: Lupron.

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Is it Endometriosis?

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I probably have endometriosis, but there’s only one real way to be sure: a laparoscopy. In a few weeks, I will undergo this minor surgical procedure and finally get a diagnosis for the disease I most likely have.

The symptoms started in late November: a strong gnawing pain in my lower right abdomen that worsened over a week. I could stand up, but not walk normally. When I went to my primary care doctor, he sent me to the ER. There, they performed a CT scan and a trans-vaginal ultrasound. All they found was excess fluid. “It’s a ruptured ovarian cyst,” the ER doc said. “It’s very common in women in their mid- to late twenties. Just rest for three days, take some NSAIDs, and see your gynecologist.”

My gyno did a pelvic exam and found that I was tender and sore over my right ovary and in terrible pain when he pressed on my left ovary. Not only that, but the ligaments near the back of my uterus were tender too. He asked me a very long list of questions that I was surprised to hear. “Have your periods been getting more painful? Has intercourse become more painful? What has your menstrual health looked like over the past six months? Has anyone in your family been diagnosed with endometriosis?”

I answered that my periods had recently become irregular and more painful, but nothing too unusual. I thought that intercourse had been normal, but my partner chipped in: “No, actually, there have been times when intercourse has been very painful for you.” I had simply dismissed it as I’d read that hormonal fluctuations are normal as you near 30, and that your periods generally become heavier and sometimes more painful. My gyno told me that this is called “normalizing behavior”: because something out of the ordinary doesn’t strike us as a medical problem, we simply dismiss it and forget it even happened, much less associate it with illness. Also, members of my family did have endometriosis.

He told me I’d have to have a CT scan done to check for ovarian cysts, and that we had to rule out polycystic ovarian syndrome and pelvic inflammatory disease, but it was likely I’d developed endometriosis later than usual. He prescribed a course of progestin to reduce the swelling of the scar tissue and adhesions and then told me to start extended-cycle birth control (where you only menstruate every three months).

I was hoping to have a quick diagnosis and be back to normal in a few weeks, but it turned out to be anything but short and simple to find a diagnosis and a treatment plan.

Progestin was very hard on me physically and emotionally. I vomited constantly, even waking up in the middle of the night to do so. I grew a stringy white beard and a brown mustache (these fell out when I stopped the medication). I found myself sobbing at cat food commercials and songs I previously enjoyed. I started feeling very cold and very warm at random intervals, and thought that my partner was messing with the thermostat. These, apparently, are the joys of hot flashes. I got vertigo and found myself stumbling dizzily to the kitchen or bathroom. With each dose, I became more emotionally weird. It was a short course of hormone replacement therapy, and it did in fact reduce the pelvic pain, but I’m terrified to ever experience that kind of emotional instability again.

I started the extended-course birth control and felt better each day that progestin left my system. There were new symptoms, though, and they continued to worsen over the next three months. I felt a strange tugging sensation in the front of my pelvis when I would bend over. It’s hard to describe, but it reached a point where I couldn’t bend over to take out the trash or put on shoes. It became horrifyingly painful to use the restroom in any way. My abdomen swelled, not too much, but enough that sweatpants and pajamas were my only option for pants. I was horribly constipated, probably because going to the bathroom hurt so much that I’d stopped eating normally.

Within two weeks, I couldn’t stand or walk without assistance. Everything between my ribs and upper thighs was a mass of cramping pain. I was hoping that the birth control would reduce what was possibly endometrial tissue enough that I could walk, but one night I was in so much intense pain, now on the left side, that I begged my partner to take me to the hospital. “Something feels like it’s going to burst,” I said. I had a fever and diarrhea and a stabbing pain on the left side. The CT came back perfectly normal. The ER doc said, “There’s nothing seriously wrong with you. You probably just have a bit of stomach flu, but see a gastroenterologist just in case.”

All in all, I’ve had two CT scans without contrast, two CT scans with contrast, five rounds of blood tests, one stool sample, two trans-vaginal ultrasounds, two ER visits, six specialist visits, and a colonoscopy. The specialists ruled out polycystic ovarian syndrome, liver or gallbladder problems, diverticulitis, chronic appendicitis, cancer, and mononucleosis. Everything came back normal except for the colonoscopy, and I’m currently waiting for the diagnostic laparoscopy.

I’ve been very lucky to have specialists that took my complaints very seriously. After three months with every test returning normal, I was starting to feel like it might all be in my head. All the tests come back normal, but I’m in horrible pain! I can’t even stand up by myself anymore! There has to be something in there, why can’t they find it? What if they think I’m just seeking painkillers? They have to know that I’m not making it up! And, most of all: Why is this taking so long? I’ve been sick for three months, and I seem to be getting worse. I can’t take another day of this pain.

My gastroenterologist thought I might have diverticulitis and put me on antibiotics and a liquid diet. He scheduled a CT with contrast. The scan came back normal, but the liquid diet really did help with the bowel pain. He then wanted to rule out chronic appendicitis and put me on a very strict diet with regular use of laxatives and scheduled a colonoscopy. At that point, I had a very swollen abdomen, would cry when anyone pressed upon it, had mucus in my stool, and had strong cramps throughout my abdomen and pelvis when I was full. I was starting to lose control over my bowel movements. I still couldn’t walk or stand on my own.

They did an exam moments before the colonoscopy and told me I might need my appendix removed or a colon resection. There was a chance I would wake up in a hospital, but not to worry. They had done this procedure many times, and I was in good hands. I went under the anesthesia utterly terrified.

When I woke up, they told me they had found a large growth in my colon. They had sent a tissue sample out for a biopsy which would return in around three weeks, but not to worry. My appendix was fine. I had no infection or abscesses. Just take it easy and drink a lot of fluids.

Two weeks later, the biopsy returned. The colon growth was completely benign, and they had cauterized its blood supply during the colonoscopy. It would wither and pass all on its own. My gastroenterologist said it might grow back, but not to worry. He’s fairly convinced, although we have to wait for the laparoscopy, that the growth is the result of endometrial implants and scar tissue putting pressure on my colon. He’s fairly sure that the laparoscopy will show that I have advanced endometriosis, and the implants and scar tissue have spread very far up my abdominal cavity, causing irritable bowel disease and the colon growth. He told me to follow a special diet, take laxatives as prescribed, drink plenty of fluids and above all, to calm down. Breathe. Relax. Know that I have good doctors and I will be OK.

I’ve discovered a few things along this bumpy diagnostic road. I’m allergic to all painkillers, so other pain solutions and stress management are vital. Warm baths, walking even though it hurts, and eating a vegan diet with lots of water and laxatives as prescribed are very important. I’ve been encouraged by my doctor to apply for medical marijuana use, but that’s a whole other story.

Stress reduction is the most important factor in my life right now. The pain and uncertainty of being diagnosed with this disease are very hard to experience, and also hard on  family, friends, and romantic partners. Find music you think is soothing. Make sure you have some time in a park or near plant or animal life. Try meditation or yogic breathing if that’s something you’d like to do. Surround yourself with books and TV that make you laugh. If anyone treats you badly, blames you for the disease or pulls away, that’s their choice, and it doesn’t mean it’s your fault. Some people react poorly when confronted with illness, and that’s their problem, not yours.

It is so important to research your doctors and specialists before you make appointments. Make sure they have no citations for malpractice and that they’re certified to do the surgical procedures you need. If your primary care doctor or specialist minimizes or dismisses your symptoms, or simply tells you they don’t know what to do with you, find another doctor immediately. Keep a journal of your symptoms. They might change on a dime! There are many applications out there besides pen and paper to track your reproductive health and endometriosis symptoms.

I have lost nearly 30 pounds, but I can walk again now that the colon growth is gone. Sometimes I can drive, which is fantastic after four months of being stuck in bed. As long as I follow the vegan diet my gastroenterologist put me on and take laxatives as prescribed, my digestive health is more or less back to normal. The extended-cycle birth control has made my life a lot easier as well.

There are days when I can go grocery shopping, drive myself around, eat three good meals, and go for long walks. There are other days when I need to stop what I’m doing and rest because of pelvic pain. There have been a few days when I’ve vomited frequently and couldn’t sit or stand at all due to pain, and it’s back to bed for me.

I have so many questions now, but it’s a great relief to see the end in sight. After the laparoscopy, we will know for certain if I do have endometriosis. It runs in my family, and it seems the most likely culprit. My greatest fear is that they will find nothing, but I hope that won’t be the case.

Thoughts that keep me awake at night: What if the intense pain comes back? What if I become bedridden again? What happens when I’m 35 and have to stop the birth control? What will my sex life be like? Will my partner still find me desirable and worth the effort if I’m sick on and off until menopause? What if the bowel disease and growths come back? How will I find an employer that is understanding of this condition, of how I may have to take 2 or 3 days off every month if I’m in too much pain to stand or drive?

Those questions don’t really matter in the long run. Being anxious and scared is normal after all these changes to my body and life. Researching this disease and finding treatment options and coping mechanisms is of great importance. Building a support network of friends and people who know what I’m going through also matters. Finding doctors I trust and can work with matters. I don’t expect anyone else with this disease to say, “That’s exactly what happened to me!” Endometriosis affects every woman differently. Symptoms can differ wildly from person to person. Accepting my body, no matter how much pain it’s put me through, is also important. I’m still worthy of love and friendship, and my goals are still possible, I just have to shift my perspective a bit.

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