Don't Cry

I love my family, I really do.  We're pretty close, or so I'd like to think.  But none of them really "get" my body, my life, my dysfunctional reproductive organs.  I think that's something every woman with endometriosis goes through.  Nobody seems to think it's "that bad" - unless they have it, or have seen you go through it.

My mother came from a home where her father was an ex-Marine and her mother cleaned houses her whole life.  Aches and pains were the status quo.  You took some Tylenol, shut up, and went on with your day.  Unless you had a fever over 102, a broken bone, bleeding that couldn't be stopped with super glue or a bandage, or were vomiting more than three times, you didn't go to the doctor.  

When I had my first ovarian cyst at thirteen, it went gangrenous due to having twisted upon itself.  I threw up every five minutes on the dot and got so pale and dehydrated my gums were a greyish blue.  Even then, my mom took me to my GP first instead of the hospital, following his advice for another six hours until she took me to the emergency room.  I didn't blame her for this - the GP actually wanted to wait longer for me to go to the ER.  (He thought it was a touch of the stomach flu.  Mom says he had a touch of the fucking stupid.)

In college, when I fainted walking from class to class, I'd just drink some water and "walk it off".  When I had ruptured ovarian cysts, I'd take ten Advil and lay in bed and cry.  I thought I was lazy.  That normal people didn't have these problems.  That if I tried really hard, someday I wouldn't be in constant pain.  That I wouldn't be fat.  That I wouldn't be afraid to move, afraid to go out for fear I'd be in pain and pass out, or get the crippling stomach pain that so often comes with endo.  Of course, I didn't know I had endometriosis or polycystic ovarian syndrome at the time.  I wouldn't be diagnosed with that until I was twenty-eight.  

There are days where I don't have to take painkillers, though they are few and far between.  I'm lucky enough where traditional Chinese medicine (acupuncture, herbs) has alleviated the stomach symptoms that are so often bros with endometriosis, that show up and hang out to add to the pain party.  But there are days like today, where it feels like someone's got a hold of my guts and is trying to rip them out of my belly button - that I want to weep at my work desk.

But I don't.  I don't ever cry when I'm in pain.  I've been in ERs where I've passed out on my way in the door, where I've been sheet white and writhing - and I don't cry.  I may whimper on occasion.  I mumble to myself, phrases that mean something at the time.  I rock back and forth.  I ball my hands into fists so hard I draw blood.  But I don't cry.

I feel guilty, but I rarely shed tears.