As anyone who has been paying attention to the news will know, this year – one week ago today, in fact – is the 50th anniversary of humankind first landing on the moon.  I didn’t write about it a week ago because I was at the coast, pretending to be a mermaid and not writing anything, so I’m writing about it now.

I’ve been fascinated by space for a very long time.  I’m a huge fan of Star Wars, Star Trek and Doctor Who.  I’m currently rediscovering a love of H G Wells.  I love Glynn Stewart’s many space adventure novels.  I think Firefly was a work of art (let’s not talk about Serenity).  One reason I really, really love it – particularly Star Trek – is because it is one scenario I can imagine myself in where endo might conceivably not be an issue.

Think about it.  All the books, movies, tv shows and games set in the past, present or near future might be fun to imagine yourself in.  I love to think how I’d survive if I were suddenly whisked back to Jacobite Scotland a la Outlander, or whether I’d make it through more days than my character on his desert island on Stranded Deep.  I used to think I might have a fighting chance in a zombie apocalypse (or, at least, I might not die in the first wave).  Now, however, my imagining is usually interrupted with the thought that I would be useless and probably die as soon as my meds run out.  First my Prostap would go and my flare-ups would return, and then my implanon, and finally my mirena, and my periods would come back and I’d either get eaten by a shark or offed by the girzzled band of zombie fighters for slowing them down.

But in Star Trek?  I’m sure there’s a hypospray that will keep my hormones in line, even if a cure for endo hasn’t been definitively found in the 24th century (which I suspect it will have been).  Even if I still had to suffer flare-ups, my replicator could be programmed to provide all kinds of delicious, low-FODMAP vegan meals without me having to stand and do any prep, and my (absurdly spacious) quarters would be at the exact right temperature.  My uniform could doubtless accommodate a built-in heatpack (to be clear, I’m talking about Next Gen on here, not TOS with its classic mini-dresses).  It’s very easy to imagine myself in that world without thinking “Oh, hey, I’d really struggle and would end up dying a horrible death.”

Returning briefly to the realm of reality, it does make me a bit sad that I will never, ever be one of those lucky, talented people that blasts out of the confines of our atmosphere and explores space.  I wish I had some kind of mad physics- or maths-loving brain that would make me a useful cosmonaut, or even one of the incredible ultra-nerds of NASA.  What a privilege to be able to work on the space programme!  How fantastic it must have been to be a part of that!  Still, I’m really grateful that those ultra-nerds did what they did (and continue to do).  To me, they are representative of the most positive aspects of human curiosity, intelligence and the sense of adventure – boldly going where no one has gone before, and inspiring awesome tv shows in the meantime.

Now we just need to make endo-research as cool as space travel and entice lots of clever and/or wealthy people into doing and/or supporting it.  And then maybe we can have the first person with endo in space (although we might want NASA to find a safe way to deal with menstrual waste first!).