By Allison Jonergin
We had a good run, my endometriosis and I. Following my total hysterectomy seven years ago, I’d enjoyed the complete elimination of most of my symptoms, and the drastic reduction of those that remained.
For years, I’d been liberated from relying on hormonal treatments and surgeries just to make my day-to-day life tolerable. I had accepted that a hysterectomy is not guaranteed to cure endometriosis, so in a way, it was only a matter of time until I found myself sitting across from a surgeon, preparing for another operation.
I’ll back up. Last fall, pelvic pain became prominently pronounced seemingly overnight, as did inflammation, stomach bloat, fatigue and nausea. I won’t even begin to discuss the unique pain that awaited me every time my bladder filled or worse, I tried to use the restroom.
Suffice it to say, biting down on the collar of my sweat-soaked shirt with clenched teeth as I clutched the wastebasket became a frequent phenomenon.
Those of you who have IBS are no stranger to episodes like these, but this pain was different. Different, yet all too familiar.
Outside of the bathroom, commonplace movements and maneuvers were now accompanied by shockingly sharp pangs that stopped me in my tracks and filled me with dread.
As the reality that my endometriosis had returned sunk in, I found myself rekindling my close friendships with my heating pad and ice packs. I regained intimacy with my couch as the increasing fear that all I had suffered before my hysterectomy had returned to stay consumed me. Simply sitting upright and standing in place were unbearable positions to occupy for more than a few minutes, and I desperately tested countless others in an attempt to find relief. Whenever possible, I curled up in a ball on the couch. There, it was possible to avoid aggravating my pain, but relieving it entirely was not.
In acting quickly, my surgeon was able to salvage my last remaining ovary in an effort I’d hail a miracle. She’d prepared me for the likely possibility that endometriosis would necessitate its removal and I’d awaken from the operation having entered into menopause. Instead, she started me on a hormone treatment to suppress ovulation in an effort to keep my endometriosis at bay. And while my endometriosis was classified as Stage III (out of IV), it wasn’t found anywhere other than my ovary. Adhesions, however, had fused my ovary, bladder and rectum to my pelvic floor. That’s great news and terrible news. It’s a relief she didn’t find endometriosis coating my pelvic floor, but it’s awful that scar tissue had inflicted so much damage and pain. While there are no cures for endometriosis, there are at least treatments available that can help mitigate its symptoms. The solution for scar tissue stemming from previous surgeries? Don’t have additional surgeries. So that’s fun. The only way to fix it is to operate. The only way to prevent it from happening again is to avoid operating.
Alas, my troubles may not be over, but for now they’re much more tolerable. And when you’re chronically ill, that’s really all you can ask for.
Allison Jonergin is a SUNY Plattsburgh alumna and North Country native. She suffers from multiple chronic illnesses including fibromyalgia, CFS/ME, endometriosis, irritable bowel syndrome and degenerative disc disease. She also has post-concussion syndrome, anxiety, depression and PTSD.
The North Country Center for Independence in Plattsburgh, NY is always looking for writing by people with disabilities in the North Country, on disability-related topics. If you are interested in writing a guest post for the NCCI Blog, send an email inquiry or draft article to: apulrang@icloud.com.