I mentioned before that we have a lab puppy. Finnley is six months old and is the most adorable beast of destruction I’ve ever laid eyes on. She is a handful now but there are some strong indications that she will be a snuggle bug throughout her life and that she’ll be as sweet as sugar as she ages and mellows.
The poor thing has been having a difficult time being cooped up inside and Husband has been asking me to please help her run off some of her energy while he’s at work. The trouble is that I’m just so damned tired. I do not have the energy to shower some days let alone take the puppy out and throw the ball around. I hate it.
But I pushed myself today. I laced up my pretty peach and lavender Nikes that I’ve not been able to put to proper use since getting them, grabbed the ChuckIt, and took the pooch out during a sun break. The trouble is that the lawn was absolutely saturated, and not long after taking her out she turned from a beautiful champagne color to a sloppy black/brown. The damage was already done, so I wore her out properly before bringing her in for a much needed bath.
After all the bending, lifting, twisting, contorting, and olympic gymnastics that comes with showering with a labrador puppy, I quickly nose-dived from a semi-decent day to a really really really painful one in a matter of minutes. It felt as though one of those Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots used my gut as a punching bag, accentuated by knife-like twinges in random areas in my abdomen. The evidence is mounting that I might have endometriosis in addition to the adenomyosis.
Endometriosis is exponentially more terrible than adenomyosis, and right now it is also one of my greatest fears. Like adenomyosis, endometriosis is when the endometrial tissue (lining of the uterus) goes all rogue and decides it would rather not live by the conventional rules of staying where it’s bleeping supposed to stay. Endometriosis is when the tissue escapes the uterus altogether and starts to creep throughout the abdominal cavity, invading neighboring organs. It is cannot be stopped, it cannot be cured, and all that can be done for the patient is to manage the symptoms. I’m not ready to go much deeper than that right now, because I’m trying to keep my mind only on the things I know for certain.
With each day that passes the this disease takes a little bit more of my life away from me, whether that’s through fatigue, being medicated, or being in too much pain to pick up my children. That last one is particularly heart-wrenching, since I’m used to sweeping my children up in a big ol’ bear hug on a whim. They love it, I love it, and it is something I wanted to do until they decided they were too old to want it anymore.
This wasn’t a planned blog entry, honestly. I had a few other things I wanted to cover in the coming days. I’ll cover more at another time when I have the emotional stamina to do so, but being in pain drains me a bit and I’m just not in the best head space to go there right now.
But for the sake of truth and transparency, I felt it important to share what a typical day looks like and how limiting the disease can be. It’s just so stupid that something as seemingly little as bathing a freaking dog would cause me to be bedridden for the rest of the evening, and I know that I’ll still be paying for it tomorrow. It’s important to me that if other women are dealing with these symptoms that they SPEAK UP!! It shouldn’t take 10 years to get diagnosed like it did for me. I don’t think I mentioned this before: when my gyn mentioned adenomyosis, she left it at that. It was like she was thinking out loud to herself and I overheard her by accident. She didn’t explain what that disease was, how she should investigate it further, NOTHING. I went home and did my own research on what the hell she was talking about, and learned that *sometimes* it can show up on an MRI (though you could still have it and not find it on any imaging). I emailed my doctor to show her what I learned on my own, and told her I needed an MRI. I was the one who found my own disease. If I had known that what I was experiencing already had a name, I would have been diagnosed and put under proper care years ago. But because it was found late, I have to deal with a major surgery to remove an organ from my body, leave me infertile, and put me into early menopause.
Please please please be relentlessly diligent when it comes to your health! I cannot count how many times they told me to go home and take some Tylenol, or how many times I was asked to acknowledge there was a chance that it was all in my head. FIVE doctors. TEN years. If you know something is wrong do some research. Once you have some possible explanations, look at what methods are needed to confirm or rule them out and share that with your physician. I was the only one to save me.