The Constant, Crippling Pain Many Women Think They Have to Endure
Pain winds around my inner organs like a thread on a needle. It’s looped around an ovary and dipping down under my colon. The variety of it fascinates me. It’s dull and booming, sharp and pricking, oozing and burning, white and flashing. I can produce different feelings in different positions, and that’s about the entirety of the power I have over this thing that has taken over the lower half of my torso.
I feel a little selfish telling you this. Pain is hardly mine to fetishize—mine is less than the amputee’s or the cancer patient’s, I know. It’s less than the soldier’s with a gunshot wound or a child’s in a car accident. But I want to tell you about it if only because it is potentially every woman’s pain, this thing I have. You might have it. So might your mother, your sister, your friend, or your cousin. But because many women conditioned to ignore pain or have our concerns dismissed, the numbers of undiagnosed are legion.
I was one of them until recently. A few weeks ago, I was diagnosed with endometriosis, a disease in which tissue similar to the lining of the uterus ends up in other parts of the body. The disease can be found throughout the pelvic cavity and as far north as the lungs, spine, and brain in rare cases, according to Endometriosis.org. What happens is, tissue that belongs in the uterus—endometrial tissue—finds its way outside and latches itself to the walls of other organs, causing scarring and adhesions, even leading to the sticking together of organs, as in my case, known in horrifying parlance as “frozen pelvis.”
I’m headed into surgery in two days. I’m lucky. My doctor says the average time for diagnosis of endometriosis is eight years. That’s eight years of women downing ibuprofen to blunt the “much worse” periods than usual or the sudden stabbing mid-month. She told me about women whose doctors have told them that the reason they are in pain is because they “have not accepted the condition of being a woman.” But I reject that—being a woman does not inherently equal physical suffering. Bleeding, cramping, childbirth, sure. Not the pain of your uterus fused to your colon, as mine is.
Lone Hummelshoj, editor-in-chief of Endometriosis.org, a peer-reviewed informational site for patients, said that widely accepted figures point to 176 million women worldwide who have endometriosis, that 1 in 10 women during their reproductive years may have the disease. We’re talking more than 7.5 million women in the United States who suffer from endo, as it’s commonly known. A ccording to my gynecological surgeon at Mt. Sinai Hospital in New York, 70 percent of women’s pelvic pain is due to the disease.
Part of the problem in figuring out who has endo is that diagnosis is not solidified until laparoscopy is performed and tissue is biopsied, unless you’re one of the unhappy few who can be semi-diagnosed from a series of invasive squeezes that make you wish your bowels could drop away and be gone forever (that would be the case if, say, your uterosacral ligaments were rock hard because they were covered in scar-like endo tissue, as mine are). There is no definitive cure.
What really got me going, however, in wanting to write about this—besides the pain of the disease—was the discovery that so many women suffer without cure, or even diagnosis. I wanted to figure out what was going on.
One doctor I spoke to told me that there are very few doctors who treat endometriosis--basically because “people in constant pain are really annoying. No one wants to deal with them.”