Over the 14 years of “PMS” I have come up with various ways to describe the pain I feel. In the first piece I introduced you to “pain waves”
Let me introduce you to the dancing midget…
It has a million and one hands each with a butcher knife. Inside my womb. Inside my uterus. It dances away, hands + knives just waving in the air like it doesn’t care.
And then there’s the midget with orthopedic shoes with spikes. My uterus, my womb is a mountain that he just climbs.
Pain. I have a personal relationship with pain. You could say that we walk hand in hand.
I got used to it. ( that’s what I tell myself)
I remember the countless nights pain would wake me up, even though I’d been watching my period calendar. That orthopedic spiked shoe was at it again. I’d get up, look for my pain meds, swallow 3 first, then get back into bed foetal position with a stuffed toy and wait for the next waves.
Sometimes it would be so unbearable that I’d go crawl into my moms bed. I’d simply say “my periods” and she’d know why I was there.
She’d shuffle about getting me something warm to drink and my pain meds so that I could pop extra.
There was the one time I didn’t have the meds with me, and I was done. I couldn’t move, I was crying, puking, clutching my head, rocking back and forth. I kept making pleas to Allah(SWT), to make it easy for me.
I was basically going crazy because of the pain.
My jaw”naturally” clenches when I sleep due to the fact that I got used to clenching when the pain hits.
I learnt how not to cry when I was in pain. Or speak about it.
Because when I did I was told it’s “normal”. That God cursed Eve and this was the result. ( and by the way it’s not a curse! I seriously believe that was the only way then to explain how women experience pain as our pelvic bone makes space for the baby’s exit.. Sigh)
Because I was told that I am a woman and it will go away.
And so when at 23, already 13 years of pain, I was told that my period pains had a medical name I was seriously happy. Finally I thought, a name to this madness.
Endometriosis. Has. No. Cure.
I was given options:
1. Give birth ( wow.. Having babies is the solution for everything woman related huh?)
2. Go menopausal (by the use of drugs & there isn’t a definite time period of how long it will take if I want a baby when I get off the drugs)
3. Keep swallowing pain meds
4. Get a hysterectomy (remove my womb at 23? Like really? It’s me. It’s my creation space.)
I dashed out of the doctors room into the ladies and bawled my eyes out. Deep wrenching tears, mucus all over.
I couldn’t cry quietly.
A woman came and tried to comfort me. Saying that all will be well.
I just kept bawling. She didn’t know what to do, so she left me.
I spent another 20 minutes on the floor just crying out my heart. At this point I didn’t care who found me. I didn’t care about the noise I was making. I. Was. In. Pain. And. It. Was. Never. Going. To. Go.
After what seemed like eons I got up, washed my face, made sure I looked “normal” and squared my shoulders and walked out.
Then a pain wave hit.
That dancing midget began the tango.
The midget with the orthopedic shoes with spikes got up from his rest.
Ovulation had begun.
I spent the next months in the same agonizing pain.
I thought changing my diet and cutting out foods that increased my oestrogen would help relieve the pain, but it didn’t.
My back pain got worser.
My shoulder pain now became regular and the neck pain started.
Basically I was in pain every single day for 3 weeks in a month.