Being chronically ill sucks. There, I said it! It SUCKS. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful every single day that it is not something worse. I have lost many loved ones to cancer and their fight makes them true heroes in my book.
Fact:Before I started my battle, I would not have considered chronic illness a war nor it's victims heroes. Though I do not consider myself in the same category of those who deal with much more fatal and tragic problems than myself, I do see myself as a hero.
I have to, or the disease would win.
Here is the scientific definition of my war:
"Endometriosis (en-doe-me-tree-O-sis) is an often painful disorder in which tissue that normally lines the inside of your uterus — the endometrium — grows outside your uterus (endometrial implant). Endometriosis most commonly involves your ovaries, bowel or the tissue lining your pelvis. Rarely, endometrial tissue may spread beyond your pelvic region.
In endometriosis, displaced endometrial tissue continues to act as it normally would — it thickens, breaks down and bleeds with each menstrual cycle. Because this displaced tissue has no way to exit your body, it becomes trapped. When endometriosis involves the ovaries, cysts called endometriomas may form. Surrounding tissue can become irritated, eventually developing scar tissue and adhesions — abnormal tissue that binds organs together.
Endometriosis can cause pain — sometimes severe — especially during your period. Fertility problems also may develop. Fortunately, effective treatments are available."
Thank you Mayo Clinic for the definition. But I have a better definition.
Endometriosis is a bitch and I hate her.
Endometriosis means that I am tired 300% of the time including when I wake up in the morning. I mean, what is that?? The most exhausting part of my day is getting up to pee in the morning. My body literally says, "Whew, what a work out! Let's get back to bed before you make me do another rep!" Not even kidding peeps. Because usually what wakes me up in the morning isn't the super loud lawn mowers my complex insists on running at 7:30 in the morning, nor is it my husband swearing during his morning workout, nor is it the crying infant who lives above me. Nope, it is the stabbing bitch that lives in my uterus that says, "WAKE UP! IT'S TIME FOR ME TO TORTURE YOU NOW AND I NEED YOU AWAKE TO ENJOY IT!" She doesn't care that she kept me up for half the night or that once I fell asleep she woke me up ever hour an half. How do I know it's an hour and a half? Because in my hope to get a good nights sleep, I put on the most comforting movie from my childhood: Mulan. And Mulan is 90 minutes long. I see the opening ink mountains right as my eyelids get heavy and I see the half Chinese half english subtitles as I am forced awake again to restart it. So yeah, there's the kicker. I am EXHAUSTED but I can't actually sleep because I am in so much pain. Go figure.
Then there is the eating thing. Guys. I love food. I love Chipotle. Do you remember my Chipotle obsession? I have probably dragged you at least once with me to Chipotle in the years of our friendship. I love my burritos. AND THERE IS A CHIPOTLE OPENING A MILE FROM MY HOUSE! And now I can't eat one. I can't really eat anything actually. But here is my other favorite catch-22. My new meds make me fat. So even though I am eating roughly 1000 calories a day on a good day, I am still gaining weight. At the beginning of this disease I got sickly thin and now I am a round faced pubescent teenager. Again, go figure.
Now all this is just my day to day life. Please see the highlighted orange sentence above. Yes, I am one of those lucky rarities who has tissue everywhere. I am getting surgery in a few weeks and he is literally checking from my diaphragm to my bowel. Because I am just that rare and legit.
I am also fortunate enough to only have a period every 3 months. I am also fortunate enough to have all of the aforementioned symptoms (and others you don't want to know about) magnified by a billion. It's wonderful. At that point I feel like a woman from the medieval times where they put her in bed for her period and she didn't move. This picture about sums it up.
Bottom line, this whole thing is a bitch. I have the emotional range of a third trimester pregnant lady, a body like a pubescent teenage girl, an appetite like a Victoria Secret model, and the energy of Jabba the hut. But those are just the negatives. The positives are I have a superhero husband, a saint of a mother who listens to me cry even after my husband has heard me cry, a hilarious sister who nerd talks with me all day, a brother who video calls me almost daily, and a dad who when he is in town, turns the car around to come see me when I am in pain. I have a great support network. Not to mention, I have Harry Potter to find trouble with, the Doctor to travel with, and Star Wars to save the galaxy with. All in all, endometriosis is a bitch but I am a hero. Go figure. If you don't laugh, you cry. Sometimes I do both, but I mostly try to laugh!
Always remember...good things come to those who laugh through their tears.
