Hand – slapped.

I know, I know, I’ve been away for weeks again from my self imposed writing task.  I’ve been busy though!  And ill.

The male shaped monsters none-party-party went down really well, with the added bonus of the monsters all being whisked away to friends and grandparents houses.  Hurrah!  I got discharged from physio – no more crutches which was a relief but I didn’t get my horn removed.  No, the surgeon decided that it was too close to my eye.  Although, if he’d have come into the blooming room in the first place to check it out on my first appointment a hell of a lot of mess would have been saved.  Hmph.  Had my final zoladex injection – which the nurse still wasn’t happy about – and she bought my appointment forward to see the consultant by two weeks.  I know it doesn’t sound much – but in the world of women’s hormones, two weeks can be the equivalent of a lifetime.   I also had an ultra-sound scan of my pelvis where the sonographer asked me if I would like to stay in as she was concerned.  She said there was free fluid in my pelvis, which could have meant a number of things.  I decided to go home as I would have been more comfortable at home and had pre-arrangements with my friends.

Then, two weeks ago, the pain started getting pretty much unbearable.  I’d been helping my crazy fancy dress lady friend out over the May Day bank holiday weekend – and probably did far too much far too soon.  I relapsed in a bad way.  By the Thursday morning I was crying in agony – which isn’t really like me.  I’ve talked before about how strong a pain threshold women with Endo have but this was like nothing I’d had for a hell of a long time.  Hubby whisked me to hospital (he rang the gynea ward first and they advised Accident and Emergency) where I was shot up with Morphine pretty much immediately.  I was taken up to a ward and spent the whole weekend there. They started treating me for PID (Pelvic Inflammatory Disease) which has been caused by the coil going rogue (I always knew that sodding thing wasn’t working for me).  Well, PID can be a STI as well but as I haven’t had sex with my husband since January because it hurt so much let alone anyone else, they pretty much ruled that one out.

The only thing which really upset me though was the way the hospital handled it.  They told me they were treating me for an infection they believed the coil had caused – but didn’t bother telling me what infection.  It was only when I received my discharge letters that I realised what the two week course of antibiotics was for.  I went into a slight melt-down.  My sister had PID and when she was 21 had a full hysterectomy.  So, now there’s me thinking ‘shiiiiiittt, I could be bloody infertile now’ and no one to tell me otherwise apart from a group of Endo-sisters on Facebook.

Now, the Endo-sisterhood is a wonderful group of women who have all got endo – or are in the process of being diagnosed or having it ruled out.  We all have different stages of endo – some more severe than others and some are incredibly sadly, infertile.  The whole point of the group though was to offer support and make friendships with fellow sufferers.  Feel their happiness and feel their pain.  Not to get all competitive about who’s in more pain than who or who’s symptoms are worse than someone elses.  And certainly not the place where I’d expect the little green eyed monster and sheer insensitivity to dribble out.  Fair enough, there’s like, a thousand hormonal women in the group and things, sometimes are gonna get a little tetchy.  But they’re also all adults and should know that if seeing about one lady with this illness is able to have a baby, then we should all share in her joy!   One woman completely baffled me by saying not only should women in the ‘support’ group not talk about difficulties and complications of pregnancy but neither should women talk about abuse.  It’s a group which can be about sex.  It’s about women’s  re-productive organs for goddesses sake.  For some women (like me) sex, abuse and endo are all related.  At one point I was paranoid that the PID I’m being treated for now was because of the abuse I received from my father and had laid dormant for years.  I shudder to think that someone in the group that’s supposed to offer support would think that I was being insensitive to them by asking if it could be.  Heaven forbid a post about my abuse causing me more illness would offend someone who doesn’t even know me!  As you can imagine, I’m pretty pissed off about their attitude.  The place is a support group about endo and endo related issues.  At the moment the illness I’m being treated for is hand in hand with my Endo and so therefore would have had a place to ask about it – but no more – for fear of upsetting someone with her head so far up her own arse she’s caught a cold.

It just got to me so much – especially as then another lady started claiming she was being bullied – even though her abhorrent comments and attitude to other members of the group – of course made her above reproach.  She actually implied that when I had the pretty serious complication of not being able to pee while I was pregnant with the female shaped monster – that if I’d have asked if anyone else had had to self catheterise – I would have being moaning.  Get the fuck off, you intolerant, selfish, small minded, jealous cow.  Asking a question about pregnancy isn’t moaning.  Neither is stating you have swollen ankles, pre-eclampsia or morning sickness.  It’s being open and sharing and asking for support.  If you can’t open your heart enough to do that then you’re a pretty miserable person who only deserves pity.

Anyway, ranting over for one night.  I’m gonna post a poem I wrote about endo later in a short while.  Please, don’t laugh at it!