The Adenomyosis Creed:

“This is my heating pad!  There are many like it but this one is mine!  My heating pad is my best friend!  It is my life!  I will know the length of its cord, the temperature of its settings, and master them to serve me best!  Without my heating pad, I am useless!”

I thought you might enjoy that silly little twist on the Rifleman’s Creed!  Seriously though, it completely describes my life lately.  With the pain coming more frequently and lasting longer, I’ve not been able to put my heating pad down.  It brings me sweet, sweet relief for the low price of one burnt stomach and being tethered to an electrical outlet.  I’m going to have to invest in one of those portable ones that you can microwave or something.

My mutinous uterus has been stealing away more and more of my life lately.  For example, today was Husband’s birthday and we had plans for a tasty little brunch at our favorite bistro.  Instead I stayed in bed with Old Faithful (my heating pad) while he and Tiny enjoyed some croissants with brie and strawberry jam.  They brought me home a delicious breakfast of poached eggs over roasted tomatoes and aoli.  It was divine going down, but much less so coming back up.

The vomiting is new.  I’m finding that it comes when the pain is the worst, along with migraines and full body sweats.  I keep having to change my sheets for drenching them.  And possible TMI alert:  I’m starting to get intense abdominal pain when my bladder is full as well as when I empty it.  And the pain is getting severe enough that I feel it when I sleep and dream, as well as to wake me up frequently throughout the night.  I swear, there is no relief!  At least until I’m officially diagnosed with something Kaiser deems worthy of something a bit stronger than Naproxen.

I think if I was fighting any other enemy, I could bear down and power through like I have in the past.  I can square up and go toe-to-toe with just about anything that comes my way.   But because it is my own body causing me pain, I feel an immense sense of betrayal.  My body is supposed to be “one with me” or whatever.  It’s never felt more like a vessel separate from me though.

For now I remain in Limbo, counting down the days to the surgery that will determine if I have only one disease that will be cured with the hysterectomy, or two diseases, with one being a debilitating, incurable condition that will plague me until I reach menopause (and possibly beyond).  Evidence is mounting for the latter, unfortunately.  But I’m trying hard to keep my head in the present and not spend my limited energy spinning around in the what-ifs.  Emotionally I’m doing okay, but I think things will come to a head as the hysterectomy nears.  Part of it might be that I have the pending move to distract me.

Anyway, this was just a little glimpse into a day in the life of someone with a chronic pain. I’ll write more in a bit.


Keep shining,



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