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A female struggles to drag a pile of oversized luggage with a tag showing a graphic of a uterus.

My Body May Never Heal, and I Am OK with That

It’s been a rough few weeks. My endometriosis specialist put me on a progesterone-based pill, and while it seemed like it was going to help put my periods on hold and make me feel better, it has turned out to be a more complicated affair.

I have stopped counting the days I’ve been bleeding once they surpassed 60, because, frankly, it was depressing. Apparently this is a common side-effect of the pill I am on, but it affects my life enormously.

I am also coping with mild to medium pelvic pain, that doesn’t seem to want to let up. Three days ago the migraines and chronic fatigue returned as an all mighty disrupting duo, and trying to function right now is a huge challenge, even as I type this. And the cherry on top? Super fun digestive issues that have me running to the bathroom every hour. All in all, a proper endometriosis party.

This was supposed to be a new start, a step in the right direction post-surgery. I hoped for this pill to work, and help me manage my endometriosis, but at this moment it doesn’t look that way. While I’ve had some good days, I could count them with the fingers in one hand.

I reached out to a friend and their response was kind and supportive: “it’s alright, take it easy, your body will heal”. Except I suffer from a chronic illness, which means this is with me, for the long run.

At this point, healing is not even on the cards

To me living with endometriosis is not about finding a cure anymore, or finding the right surgeon that will put an end to my suffering. It is more about daily actions that will enable me to function. That is how this illness works and how my life is designed around it.

Obviously, I’m not happy about having plans disrupted, being seen as the sick friend, or thinking about socializing and making new friends with a condition like mine. While chatting with some new acquaintances about running, I mentioned my plans to run the London edition, and had to disclose my illness. With a smile I recognized that endometriosis would most definitively get in the way.

Yet, thousands run with injured knees, many do so while recovering from cancer. I have endometriosis, others have diseases that are more physically incapacitating. Other people suffer from serious mental health issues. This all means that my life is really not that extraordinary. There’s only one of me, yes, but not someone whose life experience is that different from others. I carry on living despite my illness, like millions of other people. This is what we do.

I am OK with not being OK

I am fine with not healing completely. We all have our own life luggage we carry around. Mine comes in the shape of a rebellious uterus, and a couple of very annoying ovaries. But I am ok with that, and if this new progesterone pill isn’t the life-changing solution to my woes, something else will.

This article represents the opinions, thoughts, and experiences of the author; none of this content has been paid for by any advertiser. The team does not recommend or endorse any products or treatments discussed herein. Learn more about how we maintain editorial integrity here.