When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras
- Kathryn Clark
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read
“Think horses, not zebras.” That’s what they tell you. When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras.
Sometimes, and evidently so, it’s zebras.
March is Endometriosis Awareness Month. As defined by the World Health Organization, this is a complex disease that affects many women globally. It’s characterized by endometrium-like tissue, usually found only in the lining of the uterus, growing outside the uterus, causing inflammation and scar tissue formation.
It’s lifelong, has no cure, could cause infertility issues, could cause other health problems. It can take some women years to receive a diagnosis, and there is little research and information on the disease.
I got my first period sometime between ages 11 and 13, and though the exact age escapes me, I know it was a few days before Christmas. Great.
I was scared and uneducated, and my mom said I would be fine, but I didn’t feel fine. I was nauseous, couldn’t stand straight because it hurt so bad. I threw up at our church’s candlelight service.
Then began the increasingly vicious cycle of monthly periods of incapacitation, days where I couldn’t go five minutes without throwing up or nearly passing out from pain, couldn’t go to school, couldn’t get up off the floor. Debilitating, as I later described it.
Nobody told me this wasn’t normal. Periods shouldn’t be debilitating. Even my pediatrician brushed it off, giving me nausea medicine and putting me on birth control, which only helped a little and spaced out the incapacitation to once every three months.
As time went on, my pain became less centered around my period, which was dampened by the birth control, and became more constant and began to affect my daily life. Walking made me hurt, standing hurt, everything made me feel exhausted and in pain.
To try and describe it, it’s like an ice pick stabbing my ovary. Or maybe, like my pelvis is a washing machine, and it’s full of forks and knives. Potentially, like my spine is on fire and I have nothing to put it out. Like I’m being ripped apart from the inside. Like I have a bowling ball sitting on my guts. Like the lower half of my body is being put through a woodchipper. Sounds totally normal, right?
It wasn’t until my first visit with a gynecologist that I was told my symptoms weren’t typical. I was 18. Years of pain, years of thinking I was just weak or broken, and she told me it sounded like textbook endometriosis.
Endometriosis. I found no solace in this diagnosis. I pushed for an ultrasound, which came back clear, meaning nothing, as endometriosis does not show on ultrasounds. I ruled out food intolerances through a restrictive diet. I was stuck and still in pain.
I’m still in pain.
I live day-to-day not knowing how my disease will choose to affect me. As time goes on, I’ve learned how to minimize the damage, how to predict what are called “flares,” to recognize what may cause me to have more pain in the coming days. Often, though, it’s completely unpredictable.
It causes other issues for me as well. Hormonal fluctuations cause migraines. I’m constantly exhausted no matter how much sleep I get. I struggled with weight gain for a while and felt horrible. My flares can be days long and make me entirely miserable.
Pain medication doesn’t touch endometriosis. My king-sized heating pad is my best friend.
I’ve tried kinesiology tape, IcyHot, everything. I recently bought a TENS unit to help, and so far I’ve liked it- but what a novel idea, introducing more pain to distract from worse pain.
I may eventually need surgery to remove the endometriosis, but for now, my doctor says my pain is “manageable.” Surgery isn’t 100% effective either; endometriosis can grow back,and the pain may only be better for a few months.
I accept my condition, no matter how bad it makes me feel. It’s an unfortunate part of living and more people should know that being in debilitating pain isn’t normal. Go talk to your doctor. Advocate for yourself. Sometimes, it’s okay to think zebras.
Comments