TMI, but My Uterus Hates Me

That’s what I said once to a woman in a gynecologists office who asked if I was pregnant.  Which by the way, I hate being asked in the gyno’s office.  Do I look fat?  Am I emitting some odd radioactive-ish pregnancy glow?  Or do all women automatically assume that everyone in the gyno’s office is preggers?  I certainly don’t.  I never ask that question.

After going over and over to the lady doctor to find out why I constantly felt like I had appendicitis I was diagnosed with Endometriosis.  And for any of you ladies out there that suffer from it, you know…it SUCKS big you know what…

I’m like a constant whine factory.  My everything hurts.

I’m on my 50 millionth brand of birth control to tame the beast that is my uterus, and so far there has been no luck.

Honestly sometimes I want to find out who invented birth control, invent a time machine, and go back in time JUST so I can kick his butt.  (Or hers).  Because although birth control somehow “sort of” controls Endometriosis, it doesn’t seem to make my uterus hate me any less.  I’ve decided that birth control was made by Satan.  Not because of any stupid religious “Go forth and multiply” argument, but because it makes my hormones go BONKERS.  I’m only 25!  My hormones should be firing off at naked men, not everything else.

I refer back to a time when I was given estrogen supplements to get me used to the new BC they were going to test on me.  I swear sometimes I looked at my doctors and they sneered back at me, rubbing their hands together maniacally.  Even their hair seemed to stick out at the ends a bit, giving them the mad scientist look.

I took what they gave me and cried at Subway commercials.  It also just so happened that I saw my first ASPCA commercial during that time.  We do not speak of what happened.

As of right now I’ve been placing my head on my desk for hours at a time, barely able to will myself to do anything work related.  The current BC I’m on is causing some serious depression, and I need to quit it like a bad habit.

I feel like a guinea pig!  I feel like a character on House who they can’t figure out what’s wrong with, and spend the entire episode trying wrong test after wrong test until they almost die.  THEN they figure out the magical problem that could have been easily solved early on in the episode.   And it wasn’t Sarcoidosis.

Can someone please figure out a better way than trial and error testing?  Don’t ask me what the solution is because I don’t know nothin about fixin no uterus, but there’s got to be a better way.

One day maybe they will find out what my magical problem is, and treat it.  Until then this is what will live in my uterus.   The monster book from Harry Potter…don’t judge…



4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Alexandra Corinth
    Dec 05, 2012 @ 19:20:26

    [hugs] I am so sorry, sweetie! I have my set of health (women’s and otherwise) issues, so I really get it. I have yet to find a BC or anti-depressant that just makes me go haywire. I hope they find something that works for you soon so that you can gain some semblance of order in your life! ❤


  2. lenorahoward
    Dec 05, 2012 @ 19:22:53

    Thanks hun. Me too! It’s hard to focus on things that are important when you have to worry about stupid out of whack hormones.


  3. Trackback: Daily Post Prompt – A Freeing Moment | Lenora Howard
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