Part 2: I have the insides of an 80 year old, and there’s nothing I can do about it because there’s supposedly “nothing” wrong with me.
Fuck Relationships and Endometriosis, Too.
Things didn’t get better fast. I bled uncontrollably. I could hardly function at work. I’d wake up with horrible headaches, and later be reduced to tears because of cramps and the fear of being unable to go anywhere without bleeding all over. It was debilitating. And in a job where I worked primarily with men, it wasn’t something I could really talk about much. I could talk to a few women, one of whom had looked out for me from the very beginning like a mother, but I knew she had her doubts about how well I was doing. I wanted to be okay. But I felt very isolated and, well, lonely. Even though I’d gotten married only about a year and a half earlier, I could see things unraveling. It began to put me into a very real, very deep depression. Between the pain, my crumbling relationship, and my growing anxiety and depression, I felt ready to quit my job. But I pushed through it because I wanted to save up money.
My husband started working out again and I decided to go with him, in the morning before we had to be at work. My hips and lower back began to feel better with working out, and felt better for a few hours during the day, but locked up at night and in the morning. He showed me some stretches, which I did regularly. He had to rub my back to force my muscles to relax so I could sleep. I got a sharp, nearly constant pain under my right rib, which I Googled and immediately regretted. I ignored it (great pattern, right?). I began to sleep less, waking up frequently, and eventually I fell into a cycle of 3 hours a night. My husband drank all the time. I knew he had feelings for my best friend. I couldn’t get him to admit to anything or change anything.
And then I fell apart.
In the end, I wasn’t a good wife any more than he was a good husband. He asked me, after I broke down, if we could ever make it work. I looked him in the eye and said, “No.” Driving him to the airport was difficult. I felt like a failure. I felt like no one would ever believe me or think I was a good person ever again.
I started going to counseling. Living alone, I wanted to adopt a cat to keep me company, and I started talking to my friends online and tried to remain positive. It was difficult. No, actually, that’s being modest–it was nearly impossible. After about four months, I adopted a cat and got a roommate, one who I am with to this day–my boyfriend, Steven. He was supportive of me, but I pushed him to the limits of his patience. I was still climbing uphill, and I wasn’t moving very quickly. I began working on creative projects and focusing more intensively on my strengths, building a portfolio for my writing and learning how to do animation and video production. This proved to be a good investment of my time, as it helped me land my first writing job. I wanted to go to the doctor and see why I always felt so tired and in pain, and I was really stoked on the fact that this job offered good benefits, despite its shitty pay. We struggled with bills, and my sister moved in with us to help while she applied for PhD programs. It was helpful to have her around to talk to. After four months of hounding my boss and HR, and filling out paperwork 3 times because of ineptitude, I finally got health benefits.
It was only about two months later that I heard a radio advertisement for a medical study. This study called for endometriosis patients to test a new pain medication, and it paid a decent amount of money. Being poor and still suffering with bad cramps, I thought this would be perfect for me. So I enrolled.
A part of the test included a bone density scan, called a DEXA scan, to ensure you didn’t have osteopenia or osteoporosis. I asked if that was for the post-menopause participants, and the director said yes, and not to worry about it. The pill could compromise bone density, so it was just a screening measure that wouldn’t affect me.
Except it did. I found out the scan showed osteopenia and osteoporosis in different areas in my hips and spine. I was floored–growing up, my mom forced us to get our 3 glasses of milk a day. We ate so much dairy that it was impossible to have something like this, right? My mind drifted back to being vegan, to not taking care of myself during my stressful job. Did I do this to myself somehow? And thus began the doctor’s appointments to find out…