I remember with surprising clarity when my mother called my father on Good Friday in 2001 and told him that I had become a woman. In other words, my period had come. I actually thought, when I saw the brownish stain on my underwear that I had accidentally done a number 2 on myself. However, I was 11 years old, and I figured that it was what I had been praying for.
I had been praying nightly up until that point for my period to come. Why? Because I had heard about one of my aunts, who like me, wet the bed as a child (until I was 11-years-old actually). I learned that her period never came, so she was never able to have children. After learning that not every woman gets her period, I prayed for my period to come. I knew that I very much wanted to have my own children, though I was only a child myself then. I at least wanted the option when I got older. So, when I found out my period might not come, I prayed every night for it to arrive.
After a few months of having a menstrual cycle, I began to wonder why I prayed for this to happen to me, but I would take comfort in knowing I could now have children. Or so I thought.
Fast forward a few years, and it’s now November 2005. It is another day I remember quite clearly. I was in pain. I was in a lot of pain. I remember thinking that this must be what it’s like to be in labor. My body was preparing me for the difficulties of labor and delivery. At the time, I really thought the pain during my periods was just nature’s way of preparing me to bring a child into the world.
However, I went to the doctor to have this pain investigated. You see, for the previous 4.5 years, my period came like clockwork without too much fuss. It was annoying to bleed 5-7 days a week, but it wasn’t painful. I wasn’t grumpy (though, I suppose my mom would be the best judge of that). I didn’t have cravings. I essentially did not experience PMS. The only reason I knew the Lady in Red was coming was because she always came every 25 – 28 days. Clockwork.
So, why all of a sudden did she decide to make such a fuss when she showed up? Why would she continue to bring so much pain and discomfort? I missed many days of school in the coming year and half. I went to my family doctor many times. I went to the ER about as many times (the family doctor always thought I had appendicitis).
Over this time, I had an endoscopy, a sigmoidoscopy, one too many CAT scans, and ultrasounds. Everything came back “normal.” If anything, I was more than healthy. All the doctors could guess was that I had IBS (irritable bowel syndrome), and later, they began prescribing birth control pills for the pain during my period.
So, I started taking birth control pills at 16 years old. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like having to take a pill every day, for an indefinite period of time, just to be able to function when my period came. I didn’t like what it might suggest to anyone who saw me taking them.
I don’t remember quite clearly when I looked to Google for answers. However, at some point, I became convinced that I had endometriosis. I mentioned this to my gynecologist, and I asked if he could do a laparoscopy to confirm (or deny) my assumptions. As you can imagine, he (and the subsequent gynecologists I saw over the years) didn’t pay much attention to the suggestions. My requests were normally met with a prescription for another birth control pill.
I wasn’t very good at remembering to take these tiny pills, and I didn’t like the way they made me feel. So, I was normally more off than on them in the years to follow. I began to take the pain and heavy periods (which now included all the other fun PMS symptoms, like mood swings, breakouts, cravings) as just par for the course. I thought some women just bleed through an overnight pad in an hour. No one else was taking my pain and heavy periods very seriously, so I stopped worrying about it too. When my family doctor, unable to figure out what’s wrong, simply told me, “Well, you know you’re a little bit sensitive,” I figured I just needed to build up my tolerance for pain.
My tolerance for pain did increase as years passed. I also became very good at toughing it out when at school or at work. I’ve been in doctor’s offices where they said, “But you don’t look like you’re in pain.” Ha! If I lived my life expressing my pain and discomfort, I would look like I was in pain half the month, and that makes people uncomfortable.
I remember the day in my pre-calculus class in high school when I had such bad cramps that tears were just free falling down my face as I listened to the teacher explain some math theorem. She then stopped and said, “I just can’t look at you. Go to the principal’s office.” She didn’t mean it in a harsh way, but I learned that expressing my discomfort made others feel uncomfortable unless they could really relate to it.
This blog is for all the women who can relate, or any person who simply cares enough to try to understand, to sit with me in the pain and the distress without trite remarks that minimize the difficulty of my condition.
This pain and everything else that goes with it all started when I was one month shy of 16. I wouldn’t get a diagnosis until I was 28 years old, 12.5 years later. Adenomyosis.
*The featured image was taken on the night of my senior prom. I normally dance a lot at such events, but I only danced for a few minutes on this night before sitting the rest out. My painful cramps on that day made enjoying my last party with my high school classmates a challenge.
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