Hi everyone, I guess this is my official application to join the world’s most exclusive club that nobody asked to be in. I’m 29 and was officially diagnosed with Stage IV endometriosis on May 21 after a lifetime of symptoms. When I say lifetime, I mean before I even started my first period in 6th grade. For years I dealt with horrible cramps, pain, fatigue, and all the fun surprises that come with an angry reproductive system. Looking back, the signs were everywhere. The problem was that I was terrified to go to the gynecologist because I was afraid of hearing the words, “You may not be able to have children.” So I avoided it. Eventually the pain got bad enough that I was missing work and couldn’t keep pretending this was normal. I finally started my endo journey this year. My first gynecologist suspected endometriosis at my very first appointment. Unfortunately, I had to switch providers when she stopped seeing patients, and I spent some time advocating for myself with a new doctor before finally getting answers. Surgery confirmed what my body had apparently been trying to tell me for years. The surgeon found Stage IV endometriosis, adhesions, organs stuck where they didn’t belong, and enough inflammation to make me wonder if my pelvis was assembled by IKEA. The good news: they cleaned up what they could and placed an IUD. The bad news: apparently my ovaries chose violence. To make things even more interesting, I lost my mom several years ago. Not having her here to help me navigate all of this has been one of the hardest parts. There have been so many moments during this journey when I’ve wanted to call her, ask questions, vent, or just hear her tell me everything would be okay. I miss her every day, but especially now. I’ve learned that sometimes God has a funny way of removing your fears by making them all come true. The thing I spent years being terrified to hear was exactly what I ended up hearing. Post-surgery, higher than Willie Nelson at a music festival, I cried tears of relief because I finally had proof that I wasn’t imagining any of this. At the same time, I cried tears of sadness when my surgeon recommended a hysterectomy to improve my quality of life. Since diagnosis I’ve been bouncing between relief, anger, grief, and dark humor. Mostly dark humor. Another unexpected part of this journey is that it’s brought me closer to my dad. Last year he was diagnosed with primary progressive MS, so we’ve both found ourselves navigating bodies that seem determined to attack themselves. We’ve joked that we need matching father-daughter shirts. His would say, “My body attacks itself,” and mine would say, “Same.” Things I enjoy: Sunflowers 🌻 Dogs, cats, and fishing trips with my dad Making jokes about my uterus being a hostile work environment Reading memes instead of medical journals because one of those makes me cry Things I do not enjoy: Being told “periods are supposed to hurt” Being asked if I’ve tried drinking more water People acting like years of pain is normal My reproductive organs apparently supergluing themselves together I’m here because none of my friends really understand what this experience is like. I’d love to find community, friendship, advice, success stories, and your best endo memes. If dark humor is your coping mechanism too, I think we’ll get along just fine. Thanks for having me. Looking forward to learning from all of you and collectively pretending heating pads aren’t a personality trait. 🌻   submitted by   /u/Ordinary-Patient9804 [link]   [comments]