2019 Election: Health and Disability

Unless you have been living under a rock for the past month, you are probably aware that we have a federal election happening on 18 May.

Now, I have my own views on who to vote for and on the policies of the major parties.  I definitely encourage everyone to read up one who is saying what about all the important matters.  However, there are two policies particularly relevant to those of us with endo that I want to summarise here: health and disability.  I’m going to outline the policies of Liberal, Labor, the Greens, One Nation and the United Australia Party (aka the Clive Palmer party).

This should not be treated as a how-to-vote guide.  A party may have great policies on health but terrible policies on another area that matters just as much.  It’s also not going to capture my views on the parties: this is literally just a summary of what their stated policies on health and disability are.  I also acknowledge that other issues directly impact women with endo, such as issues around homelessness and employment.  I’m only going to touch on those where I think they will have a very noticeable impact on people with chronic illness, rather than a general one.

If you are struggling with keeping up with all the different views of the many, many parties contesting, I encourage you to have a peek at Vote Compass.  It can be really helpful in figuring out how you align with the major parties on big issues.

Now, without further ado and in no particular order:-

The Liberal Party

The Liberal Party, for my non-Aussie readers, is our current government.  They fall to the right on the political spectrum, generally speaking.  So far in the election they have been running on an economic platform.

The Endometriosis Action Plan has come to be during the Liberal Party reign, although it received perhaps its strongest support for Labor Senator Gai Brodtmann, who has been a fierce advocate for people with endometriosis.  As far as I am aware, the plan received bipartisan support.  Although the Plan puts some money towards improving care, the majority of funding goes to education and awareness.

When it comes to welfare, the Liberal focus appears to be on those who can work, but are currently unemployed, rather than those who can’t.  Their website talks about initiatives such as cashless welfare cards and work the dole programmes.  I strongly encourage those with endometriosis or chronic illness to research these initiatives and determine whether they are likely to hurt or help.

In their health policy, Liberal pledges to:-

  • commit up to $29.1 billion to hospitals by 2025, including increasing funding to specialist care for chronic pain treatment;
  • continue funding Medicare and the PBS;
  • invest $308 million in reducing the cost of medication for people using multiple medications;
  • increase access to MRIs;
  • devote $4.8 billion to mental health care; and
  • Put an additional 3,000 nurses and allied health professionals in rural medical practices.

The page also talks about reforms made over the past 4 years, but it is not clear from the page whether that funding and policy will continue.  One assumes that that is the intention but I don’t want to put words in their mouths.

When comparing themselves to Labor they emphasise that they have committed greater funds during their term than Labor did during theirs, and that Labor once blocked 7 medications from being included on the PBS.

The Labor Party

The Labor Party website is a little less easy to navigate, with policies laid out singly rather than grouped by area, like “health”, but I’ve gleaned what I can and summarised below for you.

In disability, Labor pledges $10 million to disability advocacy (although it isn’t clear whether endometriosis or chronic illness more generally would be considered a disability).  They aim for a 6% disability quota in the APS by 2022.  They say they will reform the NDIS to close the gap between it and mainstream services.  They will also amend the Terms of Reference of the Royal Commission to include redress.  They will invest $300 million into students with a disability – again, it is unclear how disability is to be defined in this context.

Under Hospitals, Labor pledges to restore the $2.8 billion of funding to hospitals that they allege the Liberal Party is cutting.  They also pledge $500 million to reduce emergency room waiting times.  They state that they will close the gap in health care between rural and metropolitan areas.  They will increase staffing at Medicare and Centrelink, which would hopefully improve access and decrease wait times.

They state that they will reverse Liberal cuts to penalty rates.  I include this because many people with chronic illness find themselves working in casual positions due to the unpredictability of their illness making full- or part-time work impossible.

In the mental health area, Labor will invest $200 million in Headspace.

In reproductive rights, an area the Liberal Party doesn’t touch on at all, Labor will work to decriminalise abortion, and (significantly for those who use contraception to manage their endo) increase access to contraceptives, particularly long-acting ones such as the implanon and mirena.  They also directly mention endometriosis, saying that they will be

“Addressing specific reproductive health issues such as endometriosis, polycystic ovarian syndrome, transvaginal mesh and female genital mutilation.”

They have committed to continuing the Endometriosis Action Plan.

The Greens

The Greens have kindly collated all this information on just one page, which made accessing it nice and easy.  From this page you can download individual, more specific plans.  Say what you will about their policies – this website is very helpful.

The Greens say that they will fund a “truly universal” public health system, and reduce hospital waiting times (not clear if this is for surgery or emergency rooms or something else).  They will do this by funding Medicare – there is a big emphasis in their platform of ensuring that people don’t feel they have to pay for private insurance to access quality care.  It is worth reading that document – it includes details such as a $3.5 billion plan to increase care for people with chronic physical and mental illness, including $750 worth of care and a national framework for diagnosis and treatment.

They will increase mental health funding and work to destigmatise mental illness.

They pledge to raise Newstart and the New Parenting Payment by $75 per week, which will help those people with chronic illnesses who are too sick to work but can’t meet the very strict requirements for the DSP and so get stuck on Newstart long-term.

They will increase general accessibility for people with disabilities.  It’s worth noting that the Greens do have a Senator who uses a wheelchair (Jordon Steele-John), who would likely appreciate the systemic barriers people with a disability can face.

The United Australia Party

I love you, my readers, but I don’t love you enough to listen to all of Clive Palmer’s speeches in the hope one of them mentions health.  They don’t talk about them in the title.  You can do that here if you want to.

However, I have scoured his “Vision for Australia” document looking for policies.  Basically he keeps talking about boosting the economy through his various strategies, and mentions health only tangentially.  He will

  • build more hospitals;
  • reduce income tax (helpful for those sickies healthy enough to earn enough to pay tax but who are struggling financially);
  •   commit $80 billion in funding to health for the next three years;

and that’s all I could find.

I’m also not 100% clear when this document was published, as the URL includes “2015” and the stats all seem to be from around then.

In summary, the UAP is very much about the economy and getting the money – the details on how it will be spent may be available but if it is, it’s not easily found on the website.

One Nation

One Nation has a very pretty website, but not a lot of detail on health or disability.  There is definitely more of a focus on immigration, Islam and refugees.

All I could really find in the health sphere is support for sick people accessing medical cannabis, although they don’t outline specifics of how that support looks (legalisation, decriminalisation, licensing, etc).

In terms of accessing Centrelink, they want to introduce an identity card to fight against people rorting the system.

That’s all I could find on their website.  Really, that’s it.  If someone else finds more, please let me know, because this just seems lacking.

 

I hope that may have been helpful to those who didn’t want to sift through reams of election promises to find out how folks with endo would be effected from 19 May.  Please remember to vote properly and consider voting below the line to control where your preferences go, or research who is referencing whom to make sure you know what happens if your party doesn’t win.

Here’s hoping for a great future and ongoing support in the health arena.

Save These For Future Use, Part 1

Last week I shared some quotable quotes I found on Pinterest about life with chronic illness.  Visitors to my Pinterest board, however, will also see more than just funnies and sads.  I like to save things that really capture some of the more difficult aspects of endo and chronic illness that I sometimes really struggle to articulate myself.  I’ve rounded up 10 of my favourites that you may find useful to keep around for when words fail you but you still need to explain something.  Because this post is very long, I’ve split it into two groups of 5.

Just a heads up – because I am doing image descriptions for all of these posts, this is going to look even longer than it is.  Just skip the descriptions if you don’t need them.

1)  A pain scale we can all understand

Chronic Pain Scale

With this image I’m just going to summarise the useful part, which is the pain scale (it’s surrounded by tumblr posts of people describing their issues with the conventional scale).

“10 – Unable to Move – I am in bed and can’t move due to my pain.  I need someone to take me to the emergency room to get help for my pain.

9 – Severe – My pain is all that I can think about.  I can barely talk or move because of the pain.

8 – Intense.  My pain is so severe that it is hard to think of anything else.  Talking and listening are difficult.

7 – Unmanageable.  I am in pain all the time.  It keeps me from doing most activities.

6 – Distressing – I think about my pain all of the time.  I give up many activities because of my pain.

5 – Distracting – I think about my pain most of the time.  I cannot do some of the activities I need to do each day because of the pain.

4 – Moderate – I am constantly aware of my pain but I can continue most activities.

3 – Uncomfortable – My pain bothers me but I can ignore it most of the time.

2 – Mild – I have a low level of pain.  I am aware of my pain only when I pay attention to it.

1 – Minimal – My pain is hardly noticeable.

0 – No pain – I have no pain.”

I know I’m not the only one who has gone to hospital, been asked what their pain is out of 10, where 10 is the worst pain imaginable, and thought, “how does this help anybody?”  My 10 is not the same as another person’s 10.  It doesn’t convey the actual effect of the pain on my body.  It doesn’t take into account that I have a really vivid imagination, so I’ll never rate it at 10 because it might get worse and then I’ve just broken the scale.  And is the scale linear or logarithmic?  HOW DOES IT WORK?

Now, I don’t think the scale above is perfect, but I think it might be really helpful for people with chronic pain to use as an outline for their own.  You could make a little flashcard and take it to hospital with you, so you can show it to medical professionals and make sure that you are on the same page about what the numbers mean.

In addition to making sure you and your treating team understand each other, it provides you with a consistent reference point, and it also helps demonstrate that you have actually thought about this and aren’t exaggerating.  Like many people with chronic pain, I push through it on a daily basis and the people around me have no idea that I am dealing with, say, a level 5.  My face doesn’t crack, my posture doesn’t slump.  I carry that through to hospital, where I am quiet and calm externally even though I can barely think.  I will giggle at things on facebook to distract me and make my mum watch cute cat videos with me.  I can fall asleep despite really bad pain, because pain is very exhausting.  I know that it consequently reads as me exaggerating when I say that my pain is an 8.  Having this scale allows them to know that I am not plucking numbers from thin air; I have outlined the effect the pain is having on me and made a considered decision about where it is.

Better yet, wouldn’t it be great if hospitals had charts like this so we know all the doctors are operating off the same scale?

2) What being able to work really means

A tumblr thread that reads:

mmmyoursquid: |People love to talk about whether or not disabled people can work 

but if you can work just fine and your disability is destrying your ability to have a life outsdie of work (because work takes all your energy and more)

Dead silence.  Nobody cares.”

eenymeenypia: “File this under, of you can be active for 4 hours? You can work part-time. Um no, I have to get ready for work (30 min) to get to work (15 min) get home from work (15 min) feed myself all day (30 min) maintain myself, my home and my life (15 min, yeah right), which leaves 15 min for work and absolutely nothing else.

chameleonchild: “This is so accurate, back after I’d relapsed I wanted to try and go in for one class at school so I could still stay in contact with the education system. I let slip during a meeting that I managed to drag myself to that I could manage about 4 hours aof activity a week, which the teacher sprang on to mean I was being lazy for just trying to get to 1 hour class. Never matter that it was 30 minutes travel, that I would have to get washed and dressed, that I would probably still need to recover for 3 days from it.  

Far too often abled people see the things they do as “non activities”, they don’t realise that for many disabled people these things have to be carefully planned and measured, and sometimes they simply can’t be done.

mmmyoursquid: “reblog bc the non activities thing seems really important words.”

I think this possibly sums up the concept of spoons in a way that is even more understandable for the average person.  On your average week, my life is to go to work as many days as I can manage, drag myself to the gym twice a week if I’m lucky, and spend the weekend recovering.  Some weeks I have to attend out-of-hours meetings (and some weeks I can’t manage it).  If I’m having a period of real wellness, I will join my husband in a daily dog walk.

Notice the things I’m not doing here – cooking, cleaning the house, or shopping for groceries.  Basic household stuff.  If I want to have a shower or bath, I’m definitely not walking the dog.  The only reason I manage to bath after the gym is because I get a temporary adrenaline high, which I often pay for afterwards.  I tend to only socialise on long weekends or when I’m having a really, really good week.

I am lucky.  I have more “useable hours” than many people.  However, I honestly don’t remember how I used to manage to do so much between leaving work and going to bed.  It baffles me that other people use their after work hours for more than resting and watching Star Trek.  Health and vigour seem like wonderful things.  I seriously worry for my fellow endo-warriors, though, who need to apply for the DSP, but can manage three hours of activity per day and are therefore assumed to be able to work three hours per day.  Our society puts far too much focus on productivity and not nearly enough on quality of life, even in our allegedly laid-back Australian culture.  The idea of lifters and leaners glorifies those who push through pain and exhaustion, and is of course perpetuated by those who don’t know what chronic pain and fatigue is actually like.

3) Changed lives

Image reads: “I think one of the most emotionally hard things to come to grips with, in terms of chronic illness, is wondering who I would have been without it.  I was walking a specific path that got 130% re-routed when I got sick.  And it feels like I’m in this bizarre, alternate, half baked version of my real life.  And as much as I desperately want to get back on the track I was on before, even more, I want to know where that path would have led.  Who would I have been?  What could I have been?  We always wonder what we’ll be when we grow up, and I feel like I was robbed of ever finding out.”

I think this is a really good way of explaining to people why chronic illness makes you sad.  You are in mourning for the person you could have been, or thought you were going to be.  I think it can be a tricky concept to explain.

I remember that my life was pretty much going the way I wanted until 2016, when my immune system basically packed it in and caused massive absences for around 4 months because I just got sinus infection after sinus infection, and then it carried into 2017 when my first operation went wildly wrong.  It delayed my progression from paralegal to lawyer, and then prevented my movement from civil lawyer who did family law stuff to full-time family lawyer, which was the course I wanted to take, and then took me out of litigation entirely at the end of last year.  Now I’m facing the possibility of a child much earlier than I wanted, followed by a hysterectomy.  Whilst I have enjoyed the new job, I would love to be able to go back to where those two futures branched off and see what lay down the path I couldn’t take.  Would I be making a name for myself as a good advocate?  Would children still be a distant one-day?  Would I have been able to travel the world like my husband and I wanted?

4) The in-between

it sucks too because nobody believes you. you are so alone and you have no peace no relief. At some point you even consider  suicide as your way to peace.

Image reads: “A chronic illness phenomenon

I think there’s this weird phenomenon in life, specifically in the chronic illness community.  It’s a place some of us get stuck in – the in between.  A place where you’re too sick to function in the “able world” but at the same time you seem to [sic] healthy for the chronic illness world.  You almost faint but you don’t.  You’re always in pain it’s relatively tolerable.  You’re not bad enough to qualify for surgery even though you’d benefit. You forget everything but you don’t lose time.  Your heart rate is too high to be normal but not high enough to be critical.  Your BP is low but not THAT low.  You try to find answers but seem relatively okay to doctors so they don’t want to run more tests.  You’re stuck in a place where you almost wish you were sicker so you could get helpful treatment.”  

This one goes out to everyone with endo who has been curled up on the floor with a heat-pack crying from pain, but hasn’t gone to hospital because they know doctors won’t really do anything.  This one is for everyone who has left an appointment feeling utterly invalidated or like they are over-exaggerating because their pain is just serious enough to change and ruin their lives, but not serious enough for the doctor to bother with.  This is for everyone who has wished that their ovary could explode or their uterus produce actual fireworks so that someone might take them seriously and help.

I’ve been in the in-between – I live there, I think – and it just sucks.

5) It is more than pain

Image reads: “It’s not the pain, it’s the not knowing when it’s going to stop, it’s the suffering, it’s the way people look at you as if you’re find, it’s the medical professionals not believing you, it’s the drug induced dulling of the senses, it’s the longing to do what you used to do, it’s the loss of mobility, the loss of dignity, the loss of self worth, it’s letting down your nearest and dearest when they need you, it’s the dark and lonely nights when sleep eludes you, it’s the long and lonely days when movement is difficult, AND then there’s the pain on top of it all”.  

Have you ever tried to explain what chronic illness is like to someone and then thought, I cannot possibly convey this?  I think this little post does it pretty well.  I don’t think people get that it is sooo much more than just pain.  I’ve had to take days off when my pain is actually relatively tolerable, because my other symptoms are just so overwhelming that I can’t function.  Fatigue is the biggest one.  I’ve had days where I have turned my alarm off and fallen asleep again before my hand has even left the button, and then woken up and been so exhausted I literally can’t move, even though I know that time is slipping away and I’m going to be late.  I’ve had to take days off where my drugs are working ok, but I’m experiencing all the horrible side-effects and I can’t act like a human being.  I’ve had to take days off where the pain is mild but the swelling is so huge I literally can’t bear the sensation of clothes pressing on it and so I couldn’t get dressed.  Once I had to turn up to work (when I was still in litigation) in a floor-length black maxi dress because it was the only thing I had that was loose enough not to cause problems but wasn’t pyjamas.  I couldn’t go to court or see clients, of course.

Chronic illness is a pile of problems, little and large, and one day I might just have to sit down and list them all out because I feel like that is the only way to properly explain the frustration of it.  In the meantime, I think this little tumblr post does a very good job.

 

I hope that this collation of posts and images will be helpful for you in conveying a better understanding of chronic illness to friends, family and treating teams on days when you can’t find the words yourself.

Stay tuned for Part 2.

Why Easter Matters to Me

CW: It’s an Easter post.  It inevitably talks about religion, suffering and death.

I’ve written before about my faith, but today I want to talk about why Easter specifically matters to me so much as a chronically ill person.

(Before I jump into it, a quick note on the cover photo for today, which is a person in a giant rabbit costume staring out over a shadowed landscape under a cloudy sky.  I have absolutely no idea what possessed someone to take this photo.  It is not quite the crosses-on-the-hill image I was looking for, but it is so strange I couldn’t help but use it.  I love it.  I have so many questions.)

To any of my readers who have somehow escaped hearing what Easter is in the Christian calendar, it is the celebration of Jesus’ death on the cross and his resurrection three days later.  In Christian canon, Jesus is the sinless son of God in human form, with all human frailties and weaknesses, who experienced the full range of human emotion and physical pain.  He began his ministry and around 30, and was eventually put on trial and killed after stirring up a whole lot of trouble amongst conservative Jewish elders, mostly by calling them hypocrites who cared more about the appearance of holiness than actual connection with God, and doing forbidden things like hanging out with prostitutes and healing people on the Sabbath.  After being beaten, humiliated, whipped, crucified and stabbed, he died, was buried in a tomb with a big old rock in front of it, went to hell for a few days, then rose again and did some more preaching before ascending to heaven to sit at the right hand of God.

Here are some of the things from the Easter story that stick with me more than ever as a permanently sick person:

1) Jesus knows what I am going through

As noted above, the idea that Jesus became fully human means that he experienced hope, despair, exhaustion, frustration and disappointment just as I do.  He also experienced fear, and a desire to not have to go through with more pain and suffering.  In the garden at Gethsemane, when he was praying prior to his arrest, he begged the Lord to “take this cup away from me.”  I know exactly what it is like to ask that question.  I don’t know what is coming in my future as clearly as Jesus did, but I know that there is likely to be more bad stuff.  Jesus has felt that and asked for it to be taken from him.  There’s no shame in me doing it.

He also experienced unimaginable agony.  Endometriosis has sometimes made me feel like there is a monster tearing my uterus apart from the inside, but I’ve never been whipped, starved (except for colonoscopies, but that is different), refused any liquid but vinegar, and hung on a cross for hours, which historians tell us is a truly horrific way to die.  Jesus knew pain.  He knew how it feels like it will never end, like you can’t go on, like there is nothing but that pain.  He understands intimately how I feel when my pain is bad.

2) Jesus didn’t get better either

Ok, I know that sounds weird, but hear me out.  Sure, Jesus may not have had a chronic illness, but from the moment his trial began and the pain started, there was no respite.  He did not get a break from pain and privation.  His pain ended only with his death (and then he went to hell, so he probably got a whole new kind of pain there).

Now, that may sound really bleak, but it is a lot less frustrating and a lot more realistic to me than people saying, “This too will pass.”  The whole point of chronic pain is that it doesn’t pass.  Sometimes, we just endure it until we die. However, when it doesn’t we sometimes feel as if we are doing something wrong, or worse, get treated as if we are.  I’ve written before about how Christians will sometimes treat other Christians as if their ongoing illness is somehow evidence of sin.  But there was no relief for Jesus, the man who never sinned, so I’m not doing something wrong by failing to be healed.

In this lifetime, it didn’t pass for Jesus, and it may not pass for me.  But, that’s ok, because…

3) It does get better after that

This is probably where I’m losing the non-religious folks, because I can understand how anything “after death” can sound a bit wacky to people who believe you die and that’s it.  The big promise of Easter, though, is that we don’t die and that’s it.  We die and are reborn in heaven.  We don’t suffer any more.  We experience such incredible joy that it is as if we have never suffered.  I used this CS Lewis quote in my last article, but I’m going to use it again here because it sums it up so well:

That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, “No future bliss can make up for it,” not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. ..And that is why, at the end of all things, when the sun rises here…the Blessed will say “We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven.

Because of Jesus, my place in heaven is guaranteed and I will one day have healing that will make my pain-free days on earth look like poo.  I will be healthy again.  I will know peace and energy and absolute, perfect love.

4) I’m worthy as I am

Jesus wasn’t crucified alone.  Two actual criminals – thieves – were hung on either side of him.  One of them turned to Jesus and said, “remember me when you come into your kingdom.”  Jesus replied, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

Now, I’m no angel, but I don’t steal things.  I’ve never been convicted of a crime.  I’m not an adulterer.  Jesus forgave people who were.  He will and constantly does forgive me.

I’m being a little long-winded about this, but bear with me.  In this world, we have to do a lot of things to be accepted – to be viewed as worthy.  The chronically ill are often told that they aren’t good enough, or aren’t trying hard enough.  Spiritually, though, none of us are – all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, after all – but Jesus doesn’t care.  He loves me and thinks I am just as worthy as any more able-bodied person.  His forgiveness grants me a place in heaven regardless of whether I meet society’s standards of what constitutes worthy or not.

 

Do any of my Christian readers have a different take on the Easter story, or get a different kind of comfort from it?  For all my readers – join me in being so damn grateful for a four-day weekend, plus ANZAC Day later this week!  I loved stacked public holidays.

More Quotable Quotes

A while ago I did a post on 10 quotes that really summed up some of the experiences we have with endometriosis/chronic illness.  Recently, a lot of similar quotes have been popping up in my Pinterest feed, so I thought this might be a good time to do another one of those posts.

1)  “When I finally find a pain-free position…but then I have to pee.”  

All the damn time!

The quote is superimposed on an image of James Van Der Beek ugly-crying.

This one doesn’t really need an explanation, but boy, is it true (and frustrating).

2)  “Fake it til you make it doesn’t work with chronic illness”

MS, Fibro, Lupus, and the list goes on and on.... Chronic Debilitating Painful Illnesses

Image is a tumblr post by thatchronicfeeling.  It reads:

“‘Fake it till you make it’ dosen’t work with chronic illness.

Instead, the options are:

‘Fake it till you are so ill you can’t get out of bed’

‘Fake it till you have a flare’

‘Fake it till you have a flare, continue to fake it till you’re hospitalised’

OR

‘Accept that you have one or more chronic illnesses, adapt accordingly and look after yourself.'”  

I suspect most of us are guilty of trying to fake it til we make it far too many times, largely because there are enormous societal and economic pressures to do so, even though we know it doesn’t work and isn’t conducive to long-term health.

3) The Most Annoying Thing

Indeed, I still try though. Now and then, PIZZA!!!

Image reads: “The thing that kills me about chronic illness is that you can do everything right and still be sick.  You can be on the best medications, eat the best food, exercise seven days a week, sleep eight hours every night, and still be sick.  You can follow every rule, do everything your [sic] supposed to, and still be sick.”

You’re telling me.  I flew halfway around the planet to get the best surgery currently available only to discover I have another underlying condition that the surgery can’t treat.  I sleep ten or twelve hours some days and I’m still fatigued beyond enduring.

On the other hand, I did go to my Bangladeshi friend’s house the other night and eat all the high-FODMAP food, but honestly, if you could taste her mum’s dahl, you’d eat it if it killed you.

4) Of Mice and Men

Quote, 'Of Mice and Men'

Image is a quote from Of Mice and Men: “It’s just a constant battle: me against my body; my passions and my dreams and what I want to do with my life, against what I’m physically able to do.”

This really hits home.  As I write I’m supposed to be at beautiful Pearl Beach catching up with a dear friend whom I don’t see nearly enough.  Instead, I’m at home in my pjs because I couldn’t handle the journey.

5) I want to be enough

Chronically ill person

Image reads: As a chronically ill person, I don’t want to be told I can do anything if I put my mind to it.  I want to know that what I can do is enough.”

Absolutely.  It doesn’t matter how determined I am to be a prima ballerina when I can barely make it to the gym twice a week through fatigue and pain.  Rather than being told “you can do anything!”, which kind of rubs it in our faces that we can’t, tell us that we are doing really well as we are (because we are).  

6) Surprise!

Funny because it’s true

Meme of a cat face on a background partitioned into six shades of blue.  Texts reads:

“Me: so what are we going to do with my life?

Body: It’s a surprise!”

It sure it, body.  It sure is.

7)  Waste of spoons

Said every person who is chronically ill.

Image reads: Why waste spoons on shaving your legs?

I’ve had many a day in between laser sessions where I have thrown out my skirt or dress plans in favour of trousers because shaving requires far, far too many spoons.

If you can’t bear the sensation of leg hair want to know more about removal options, have a squiz at this post where I evaluate the pros and cons of a few different choices.

8) Competing Desires

yes

Image reads: I am a person who wants to do a lot of things trapped in a body of a person who wants to sleep a lot.

Never a truer word was said.

9) A Fully Functioning Body

Image result for funny chronic illness memes

Image is a tumblr post by thefairiegirl.  It is a picture of a shocked lego-person in glasses with the text:

“When I see someone with a fully functioning body:”

and the lego person says, “I’ve always wanted one of those.”

Wouldn’t it be nice?

10) Fatigue

"You don't know what fatigue is until you've had to rest after taking a shower." Life with chronic illness. Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, Lyme Disease.

Image is from someecards.  A vintage image of a lady in a bathtub on a blue background, with text that reads: “You don’t know what fatigue is until you’ve had to rest after taking a shower.”

I mostly take baths now for that exact reason, and I still have to rest afterwards.

What quote resonates with you the most?

If you enjoyed this post and want to see more of these quotes, follow me at https://www.pinterest.com.au/bubblesinthebrain/ and look for my Endometriosis board.

The Biggest Difference Between Adenomyosis and Endometriosis – It’s Not What You Think

Massive CW for fertility, pregnancy, hysterectomy.

Brace yourselves, kids.  This one’s getting personal.

As you may know from recent posts, my formerly tentative diagnosis of adenomyosis is now officially confirmed.  Unlike my endo, which showed up on precisely no scans ever, my adeno showed up loud and proud at the top of my uterus on an MRI.

I’ve talked before about what adenomyosis is and how it differs from endometriosis.  The biggest difference for many is that adenomyosis can be cured by a hysterectomy, which endometriosis cannot.  That’s kind of what I’m getting at with this post, but also not.  It’s the results of that dissimilarity that has been the biggest difference for me.  For the first time, I’ve had to think really seriously about what I want from my future.

I’ve flirted with the idea of children before.  I mean, I am married, and in my late twenties, so it is something that many people would assume is the next natural step for me.  I’ve kind of always assumed I would end up with children, because it’s what you do, right?  You grow up, you meet a nice boy, you get married, you have two and a half children and a white picket fence.  The circle of life, etc.  At the same time, however, I have never been overly maternal.  I don’t get clucky when I see a baby.  I’m not all get-it-away-from-me – I can hold them competently enough, and I can entertain children for a few hours (it literally used to be my job, after all), but I never really felt the need to have one myself.  Add to that the fact that there are so many children in need of a good home, that our planet’s population is increasing at a rapid pace, that I could potentially pass these awful diseases onto a daughter, and that I really resent the idea of taking yet another hit to my career and to my body when both have already had to endure a great deal, and children just never became an immediate priority.

There’s also the fact that I’m terrified of pregnancy and childbirth.  It looks hard.  It makes your ribcage expand.  All these awful words like “episiotomy” and “tearing” get tossed around.  The thought of losing bowel control in front of a bunch of strangers, and worse, in front of my husband, also doesn’t appeal.  It’s undignified and painful, and I’ve had enough of both.

But now I have adeno.

As long as I had endometriosis I knew that I would have to make a decision on the topic at some point, because endometriosis *may* have an impact on my fertility.  My original plan of leaving it to my thirties was not one that various doctors have encouraged.  Still, I assumed I had time, and that at some point down the track some sort of maternal instinct might kick in, or I might at least feel a bit ready.  It hasn’t to date.

With adeno, however, suddenly the possibility of an outright cure is being dangled in front of my nose like a very shiny carrot.  One operation – albiet a serious one – and my pain could be gone.  My endometriosis is being managed so well by Dr Edi-Osagie that for the first time in years, the prospect of a fully pain-free life seems within my grasp.

Of course, if I have a hysterectomy, then it is bye-bye to the prospect of biological children.  Yes, adoption is an option, but let’s not pretend that it is easy, cheap or inevitable (multiple chronic illnesses tend to count against you in the assessment process, I do believe).  So now I have yet another of those awful choices that endo and adeno leave you with – do I endure the pain for longer, and potentially experience more when my contraceptive devices are removed, in the hope of conceiving a child, or do I jump at the chance of a cure right now and lose the choice forever?

If I chose the first option, how long do I wait?  I always wanted to be financially stable before bringing a child into the world, and I’m not badly off, but I’m not where I would ideally like to be.  I wanted to be further into my career.  I wanted to have travelled more.  I wanted to do a lot of things that endo has prevented me from doing, but that a child will also make more difficult.  I wanted to feel more ready, more sure.  It’s such a big decision – is it fair for me to be making it with even the slightest doubt in mind?  What do you do when you have doubts about either option?

Is it fair of me to put my husband through this?  I’m already a bit of a burden at times (many times).  My pregnancy could be really difficult and make it even harder on him.  He’s self-employed where as I have a stable income – there’ll be an additional financial pressure on him.  If I do successfully carry to term – let’s not forget that miscarriage is a heightened risk for women with endo – will I be able to recover from the birth easily, or will my health struggle like it does with everything else?

What if I’m a terrible mother and my child grows up to be an incel or something?

Ok, I’m less worried about that last one.

On the flip side, I don’t know if I’m ready to lose that choice.  When I bake a cake or read a great book or see a fantastic movie, I think, “I want to share this with a child someday.  I want this to change them the way it has changed me.”  I want to share these things with a younger generation, and it’s at the moment it’s not likely I’ll get to do that in a “cool aunt” capacity.

Either way, it is a huge decision, and I’m wrestling massively.  I think I have decided, but I keep flip-flopping.  Whatever I end up doing, though, I resent the adenomyosis for forcing me to make this decision before I am ready.  I resent the endometriosis for stealing away my chance of doing all the things I wanted to do as a young married couple before I had children.  I resent that being a chronically ill woman is littered with such awfully difficult choices.

Have any of my readers faced this decision?  Were you ambivalent about children?  What were your thought processes?  I am so keen to hear from anyone in a similar situation.

March Gratitude

Yes, it’s April now, but too bad, you’re going to hear what I was grateful for in March anyway.  Suck it up.  Be grateful.

1)  I went to Melbourne for the first time

Bird's Eyeview Photography of City Landscape
Image Description: a picture of Melbourne from the air.  It is dusk and the lights in the buildings are on.  There are a lot of tall buildings and a river with bridges over it.

Yes, I am one of those Australia-dwellers who had never actually been to Melbourne.  For non-Australians, there is this ongoing rivalry between our two biggest cities, Sydney (New South Wales) and Melbourne (Victoria) about which one is better.  Both have lots of nice old buildings, stacks of traffic, and road rules that make it very difficult for visitors to have a clue what’s going on.

To be honest, I wasn’t that impressed with Melbourne as a city (heresy, I know).  It’s not really that different from other big cities to me.  I just don’t like cities that much.  However, I did get to see one of my best friends whom I haven’t seen in ages, drink a zingy bubble tea, attend an interesting seminar, and try Lord of the Fries for the first time (very tasty).

2)  I saw Julie Bishop

I went to a very interesting seminar at which Australia’s recently resigned Foreign Minister, Julie Bishop, was speaking.  Love or loathe the Liberal Party and its members, I think Julie Bishop is a very impressive, articulate and well-informed woman who has been a bit of a trailblazer in an arena still very much dominated by men.  She also has some amazing clothes.  It was a privilege to get to hear her speak in person and I was very interested to hear her views.

3)  I made a cake

I love baking and cooking, but they can be difficult for me, because standing for long periods is a huge trigger for my pain.  This one is pretty quick and easy, though, and it was a big hit at work!

I made two six-inch cakes instead of one eight-inch cake, and layered strawberry jam, fresh strawberries, and Sarah Kidd’s delicious cream cheese buttercream between them and on the top.  I still have stacks of buttercream left over, so I’m going to make some cupcakes for next week and continue to buy the love of my coworkers with delicious vegan baking.

4)  I went to a cafe and there were millions of dogs

It was a brunch, and the food was very tasty, but the DOGS.  There was a tiny dachshund puppy in a wrap like a baby, with the softest head I have ever touched.  There was a huge lollopy smiley golden retreiver.  There was a beautiful sleek black greyhound called Jazz, who wanted lots of strokes.  There was a bear that the owners tried to pass off as a St Bernard.  It had paws the size of my face, and I have a fairly average-sized face for a 178cm human.  There was a pitbull with a smile that lit up the whole day.  Basically, it was heaven.  There was cake and dogs.  What more could you possibly want?

5)  The weather got colder

Dirt Road Cover by Dried Leaves
Image description: a shot from close to the ground of orange leaves on a dirt road.  Above them is an avenue of treats with yellow foliage.  The sun is shining through them.

It’s no secret that I love spring, but I also adore autumn.  Summer in Australia is just too hot for a pasty white child like me.  I sweat and I crisp up at the edges, and the backs of my legs stick to chairs.  I don’t like it.  Autumn, for the two weeks it seems to last in Australia, has days in that perfect 18-25 degree range, with enough sunshine to boost the spirit and enough grey rainy days to let a girl cuddle up under a soft cushiony duvet with an animal and her husband.  Perfect.

6)  I learned some salsa

Thursday 21 March was Harmony Day in Australia, a day about celebrating multiculturalism.  As part of it, my workplace hosted a salsa class.

A bunch of corporate types trying to salsa in suits will always be good value, but the class itself was just clean good fun.  Was it good for my endo?  Not even slightly.  Did I have a slightly sweaty blast and get some good cardio and strength work in?  Sure did!

7) One perfect rose

I’m a big fan of the poetry of Dorothy Parker.  She wrote a poem called “One Perfect Rose.”  It goes:

A single flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet–
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
“My fragile leaves,” it said, “his heart enclose.”
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

Well, from my garden in March came one perfect rose, and it made me very happy.  Unfortunately, I cannot seem to get this picture off my phone and into this post for the life of me, so, if you want to see it, along with pictures of random flowers that make me happy and many pictures of corgis, cats and wigs, have a look at my instagram, @offbalancespinningtop.  

8) Dinner with my friend

Despite living in the same city as her, I don’t get to see one of my friends nearly as often as I’d like.  However, we started the month with dinner together and I love spending time with her so much.  She is the sweetest, kindest person and just makes everything better.

9) Youtube Fun

I spent a fair amount of time on youtube in March.  Possibly more than was healthy.  Anyway, I had a great deal of fun binge-watching Safiya Nygaard’s videos.  She’s just so fun and happy and does such wacky stuff, and she bawled like crazy when she got engaged, which made me happy-cry.  A good time all round.

10) Queer Eye Season 3!

Image result for queer eye
Image Description: a picture of the Queer Eye Fab Five.  From left to right: Bobby (pale, blonde hair and beard, wearing a suit and a happy expression); Karamo (dark skinned with a closely trimmed black beard and a faint fuzz of black hair, wearing a very shiny suit with a grey tie and a suave smile); Antoni, pale with brain hair, clean-shave, wearing a suit and looking soulful); Jonathan (pale with brown flowing locks and a joyful face); and Tan (white shirt and black jacket, tanned skin and dark and light grey hair in a quiff, also looking suave but less smiley than Karamo).  

I love Queer Eye.  It is so heart-warming and Tan France’s hair is an international treasure.  The fact that Season 3 has come makes my little heart sing.  My favourite episode was Black Magic, in which Jess, adopted and then rejected when she was outed as a lesbian to her conservative family, learns how to trust and love again, as well as getting in touch with both her sister and her own identity as a black woman.

There was a very disconcerting episode in which a very tall man shaved off the nice beard Jonathan Van Ness had carefully given him.  I was in shock.

Do you watch Queer Eye?  What was your favourite episode in Season 3?  What made you happy in March?  Let me know in the comments!

Working with Endo: What to Wear

CW: maternity, weight gain, gendered language

I’ve written before about the difficulties of holding down a job whilst living with endo. Re-reading that post is an interesting experience. I was still in litigation, and specifically said that my health might force a move into policy – an area that, at the time, I had no interest in. Well, that prediction sadly came true, in part. My health did force me to leave litigation, but it turns out policy is actually pretty fun.

I’ve also written before about clothes that are comfy yet not terrible for when you have endo. I want to revisit that topic today, but with a work focus. I’m concentrating on offices here, partly because that is what I know and partly because many non-office careers either come with uniforms, dress codes or special requirements (steel-toe boots, for example).

If you want to look at some more adventurous office ideas, I highly recommend Miss Louie’s various lookbooks (see here and here ). She has so many great ideas on professional yet interesting outfits. If you need to travel for work, head over to this post by Vintage Barbie. I’d also recommend her post on maintaining your own style in a corporate world.

So, without further ado, here are my five office staples for the office worker with endo belly:

1) The well-fitted knickers

Ok, so this applies to literally any outfit, officey or otherwise, but it is so important. Whether you have endo or not, you generally want to avoid the dreaded Visible Panty Line (not terribly professional). It’s not always easy in a world that seems to sell an inordinate amount of cheeky-cut undies that have their leg at that annoying mid-point that just cuts your buttock right in half. If you have been even slightly blessed in the booty, this tends to cause a slight dimple and becomes very obvious under even moderately tight clothing. I also find that they cause me to be making adjustments all day. If you really love a halfway-up-the-butt cut, go for seamless ones that just lie on the buttock rather than gripping and digging in. Cuts that simply won’t cause those lines are G-string, or my personal fave, the granny pants, that cover the entire buttock. In theory, boyleg undies shouldn’t do it either, but boyleg appears to mean different things to different brands and for many, still somehow results in a cheeky cut.  If someone has a recommendation for boyleg undies, with, you know, actual legs, please let me know in the comments.  I just want boxer briefs for people with nothing between the legs.  They look so comfy!

In terms of fitting for endo, you want something that is gentle on the tum. For some, this means a very low cut that lands below the tummy. For others (like me), this means a high cut with a gentle waistband. I highly recommend keeping at least one pair of maternity knickers on hand for the really bad days. I’ve started wearing some maternity things and seriously, the comfort level is out of this world.  Overall, my favourite brand has to be Bonds and their offshoot, Jockey, because they have a style for almost everyone.

Whatever style you choose, make sure you are getting the right size. Too big and you’ll be hoisting them up all day. Too small, and you’ll not only get VPL on both the legs and waistband, you’ll also be in a great deal of discomfort. Compression is the enemy of endo (another good reason to get fantastic knickers, as shapewear is not our friend). It is worth getting a few sizes if you often suffer endo-belly. A 12 is good for me most days, but on a flare day a 14 is just a bit more comfortable and accomodates that rapid expansion much better. Endo can also cause rapid weight changes – I’ve gained nearly two sizes in the past few months – so having bigger or smaller sizes on hand is an annoying necessity. If you gain weight, please don’t keep stuffing yourself into knickers that are too small. You’ll be horribly uncomfortable. It might be upsetting to have to accept that you have gained weight, but making yourself uncomfortable won’t help.

2) Elastic-waisted black trousers

Black trousers are a corporate essential. You can dress them down for casual Friday, but you can’t be caught short being insufficiently formal for a meeting or presentation. When I was in litigation I always had a pair of black trousers in my desk drawer just in case, after getting sent to court with very little warning wearing a skirt that was fine for a client-free day in the office but absolutely not ok for court.

I have multiple pairs of black trousers in a variety of styles – wide leg, boot cut, straight leg, high-waisted, etc – but the most important one in an endo-gal’s arsenal is a pair with an elastic waistband. They are so good on those days where a static waistband looks like Satan and you just want really just want comfort and a super easy outfit.  I recently purchased this pair from Target, which don’t look superb in the website picture but look perfectly acceptable on and are very comfy.  The only downside is that you can’t really tuck things into it, because the waistline does look a little cheap and, well, very obviously elasticised.  That being said, I want another pair.  One comment says that they are great for shorties, but they fit my 5’10” frame just fine as an ankle-grazing style.  For $15, they are well worth it.

3) A stretch black pencil skirt

A black pencil skirt is, just like the black trousers, an office necessity.  You can make it casual with a simple t-shirt and flats, or dressed up with a buttoned shirt or silky blouse.  A pencil skirt is the most formal style of skirt, much as I love my flared midi-skirts.  Thing is, of course, you don’t want just an elastic waist with such a clingy style – you want stretch EVERYWHERE.  You don’t want it to be tight or compressing, either – you want one that just skims everything and sits comfortably.  I recently got this one, also from Target, that fits the bill perfectly.  It looks very smart, and doesn’t dig in at all.  I wore it on a work trip to Melbourne that included flights, taxi rides, a seminar, walking all over the place, and Lord of the Fries.  It doesn’t look terribly cheap, and it doesn’t look immediately like its a stretch fabric as opposed to an ordinary suit skirt.  It’s a good length for me but would also be fine on a slightly shorter or taller person too.

4) Good tights

The holy grail of workwear for a skirt-wearing type.  They hide a multitude of issues – dry patches or those little bits I miss when shaving – and just add a level of polish and sophistication.  They also put a barrier between your foot and your shoe, which helps prolong the life of your shoes.  They are required in many more conservative law firms if you wear a skirt, particularly if you appear in court.

They are a nuisance, though.  Despite my extremely extensive wardrobe, I sometimes feel like I’ve spent more on tights than any other type of clothing.  Thick ones are too warm in summer, but sheer ones rip at the drop of a hat.  So many have built-in slimming, which is fun if you don’t have endo, I’m sure.  I find those very painful.

However, there are tights out there that are both comfortable and not prone to laddering.  I always look for tights that, when damaged, get holes rather than ladders.  A hole just sits there.  It doesn’t look great, but, unlike a ladder, it won’t start at your thigh and have ruined your entire leg by lunch time.

I also look for those with words like “comfort brief”, “wide waist-band” or “no dig”.  If those fail me, maternity tights are always an option.  I got a bunch of these Kayser tights on sale a few weeks ago, and they are saving my life (or at least my tum) at the moment.  Very comfy, and they hole rather than ladder.

5) A slouchy blazer

I love a structured blazer.  I feel amazing in a properly fitted suit jacket.  Sometimes, though, everything hurts and you need to be able to flop in your chair and not feel constrained.  For that, I love a looser, less structured blazer like Review’s Aries jacket, or a completely jersey blazer.  I got one from Kmart that looks surprisingly professional when not covered in cat hair, but I can’t find it anywhere on their website.

This is less of a “must have” than the other things, but a jacket really does finish off an office outfit and is great for turning a casual outfit into an office-appropriate casual Friday outfit.  Endo sufferers may not need a slouchy jacket, but I find that, when I’m having a really difficult day, pain-wise, being comfy everywhere makes a huge difference to my ability to tolerate it.  A stiff jacket looks amazing but saps my spoons, so I feel that a relaxed blazer deserves a spot on this list.

Now, I realise this list sounds super boring.  Basics usually are.  To prove, though, that these pieces are important, I am going to do a week in the trousers and a week in the skirt, wearing them different ways, and including a slouchy jacket at least once in each week.  As someone who spends 5 days a week in business or business casual, though, these basics are incredibly important to allowing me to get through the week with a minimum of pain and discomfort.  I don’t need to rely on them every day, but having them there makes all the difference for those days when I am well enough to go to work, but only if everything else in my life is 100% easy and comfortable.

I’m planning a few more posts themes related to this.  In addition to my proposed “comfy work clothes” lookbooks, I want to talk about about how I have coped with my sudden weight gain, and what I keep in my handbag and at my desk to make work easier for me when I’m struggling.  Are there any other work, clothes or body-image-related posts you want to see?

 

The Perfect Disabled Person

Hi everyone.  Sorry that it’s been so long since my last post – particularly unfortunate given that it is Endometriosis Awareness Month.  I was struck down with a bout of gastro and writing was the last thing on my mind.

As part of Endometriosis Awareness Month, Buzzfeed has been running a series of articles raising awareness about endo.  One of them is “Things You Shouldn’t Say to People with Endometriosis.”  I’ve written on this before here, here and here, and given some suggestions about things to say instead here, so it’s always interesting to hear things other people are sick of hearing.

The Buzzfeed article, written by Lara Parker, is fairly tongue-in-cheek.  She gives some brief explanations about why you shouldn’t say these things, but she also writes how she would like to respond when these questions are asked.  It made me snicker.

Unfortunately, the responses on Buzzfeed’s facebook page and on the article were deeply disappointing, mostly from people who obviously do not get it and can’t be bothered to try, and even some from people with endo who apparently forget that we are allowed to be a little bit upset and annoyed about this horrific disease and people being arses about it.

People of colour in majority white societies have often noted the pressure to be the “perfect minority” – the model for all their race.  If they do a wrong thing, it just goes to show that “all people of X race are like that”.  I think there is a similar-but-different pressure on disabled and chronically ill people.  Whilst we aren’t required to represent the whole demographic the way people of colour are, there is a pressure to be this “ideal” disabled person.

What does the ideal look like?  Basically, inspiration porn.  Preferably, they were able-bodied and had a promising future, but they lost something – usually their ability to walk – in a horrific accident.  Doctors said they would never move again, but they regained use of their arms and took up Olympic paragliding, spouting mantras such as “the only disability is a bad attitude!”  They overcome every obstacle that a world built for able-bodied people creates for them rather than asking that maybe the world undergo some reasonable adjustments.  They are an inspiration to disabled people everywhere!  They teach lessons about the power of positivity!

They are a stick used to beat disabled people who are tired, cranky, depressed, or whom able-bodied people don’t think are trying hard enough.  “If they can do it, why can’t you?” And if a disabled person suggests that perhaps that isn’t actually the best attitude, we are rude, unhelpful, and bitter.

Here’s some examples of comments on the article:

So you don’t want us to try and relate to you, or feel sorry for you? After what you wish we didn’t say, maybe add something saying what we SHOULD say. This is such a negative post.

 

This is a tad aggressive. I understand that it is frustrating to live with a chronic illness that has no cure and limited treatment options, but I think people suggesting options to help your pain is clearly out of trying to help ease your pain and out of caring. If you’re going to get that upset every time someone tries to offer you a helpful suggestion (even if it might not be helping) than you must have a terrible attitude. Especially regarding the questions of “can you have children with this condition?” I think it’s safe to say a person asking you this is probably trying to understand your condition and the implications of it. Sounds like the person who put this article together needs a therapist.

 

What a bitter way to look at the wolrd, I think a lot of times its our instinct to try and help people we care for. So even if I’m sure it’s been suggested to you, you have to look at it from positive angle, this person is suggesting something because they care about you and wants to help you. I have endo and while I know our journey is different, I can relate to all the suggestions but every time someone gives me one, as silly as it is, I can see in their eyes that all they want is to figure out how to make you feel better. How can you be so upset about that.

 

A tad aggressive…. I have a few unseen conditions too and if people offer some advice I simply say thank you or thanks I’ll look into it. No more no less….”

 

Here’s a thought…. If you don’t want anyone to comment on your illness / problem, don’t bring it up to begin with. If you just keep it to yourself, like most people do with their health problems, others won’t have any reason to comment or suggest anything. Rather than get on here and bitch that people are suggesting things, just shut up all the way around and it will solve all your problems before they even have a chance to start.”

 

Here’s what I think able-bodied people who say this kind of thing don’t get: most of it.  Possibly all of it.  But specifically:

  • That relating to us or feeling sorry for us is all well and good, but it doesn’t come in the form of suggesting we try yet another fad diet, or that we should be fine if we have this treatment because it worked for their cousin’s girlfriend.
  • That sometimes we get sick of people making unsolicited suggestions and rude comments, or asking really personal questions, and we are allowed to be frustrated that people actually seem to think that this is ok.
  • That this is not the same as aggression.  Passive-aggression, perhaps, but like most people, we really have to be pushed to breaking point before we morph into some sort of were-beast and start tearing faces off.
  • That the questions and comments stack up.  We might be hurt or frustrated by a single question that, however well-intentioned, is invasive, rude or dismissive, but that when you get them all the time, it is hard to stay calm and patient.
  • That intention is not the same as impact.  Someone could care deeply about me and my pain, but if they are asking a string of really personal questions or insisting that I would be fine if I tried the keto diet, their intention doesn’t matter as much as the impact it is having.  And surely, if they care, they would care about my feeling on the subject too?
  • That we educate people about this all the time.  We are generally happy to explain what endo is, if it is the right time and place.  That doesn’t mean that we don’t get sick of having to do it again and again and again, or when someone starts demanding answers that a quick google search would provide when we just want to get on with our days.
  • That we don’t tend to bring our problems up out of context, and when we do, we are either looking for a specific solution, should as flexible work hours, or explaining why we can’t do a thing.  That doesn’t mean we want to be told to have a baby or a hysterectomy.  Also, we can’t shut up and take opportunities to educate people.
  • That endometriosis is utterly exhausting, physically and emotionally, and we cannot always be happy, positive, and polite.  There are some days I can’t even speak to people without literally feeling the conversation draining me of energy, however much I love the other person and enjoy the topic of conversation.

What I’d really ask people to do this March is to listen to us.  Listen when we say that things hurt or upset us, and listen to why.  Even if you don’t get it, please respect it, and understand that it’s not an attack on your freedoms or your character.  We’re just asking for a little bit of shush, or perhaps for you to say, “oh, that sounds awful,” and give us a hug or a nice cup of tea.

And don’t tell us to be more positive.

Secondary Conditions: Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

I’ve written a lot about endometriosis.  I’ve also written about some of the “side-effects ” people with endo often suffer, such as back pain, digestive issues, and gastritis.  Now I want to write a little series on other chronic conditions that often appear alongside endometriosis.  Today, it’s myalgic encephalitis (ME), better known as chronic fatigue syndrome, aka CF or CFS.

Like most chronic illnesses, chronic fatigue can be mildly described as a massive pain in the posterior.  It’s exactly what it sounds like – extreme exhaustion that varies from sporadic to constant.  Have you ever had glandular fever, and had that dreadful, bone-aching exhaustion that drives you back to bed, on the verge of tears from sheer tiredness, just two hours after a 16-hour sleep?  I’m told its much like that.  In fact, chronic fatigue can often develop after a bout of glandular fever.  In other words, to describe CF as mere constant tiredness is inaccurate.  It’s crushing.  It doesn’t get better with rest, and it gets worse with lack of rest.  My own bout of glandular fever has given me a healthy fear of chronic fatigue.  I’ve never felt so horrific and disconnected in all in my life, and I only had it for nine months.  CF can be limited in duration, but it can also last for years, or for a lifetime.  Anyone of any age can contract it, even children.

This exhaustion may be the only symptom sufferers endure, but others may experience headaches, dizziness, weakness, nausea, light-headedness, aching muscles, joint pain, sore throats and tender lymph nodes, as well as trouble remembering, concentrating, or forming sentences (brain fog).  Unfortunately, most of these are also symptoms of glandular fever or even influenza, so it is worth speaking to your doctor to rule those two out.  Glandular fever can be confirmed with a simple blood test.  Indeed, excluding other conditions, such as anaemia, is the only way to arrive at a CF diagnosis, as there is no one test to confirm that you have it.

There’s also no known reason as to why people develop it.  Like most of the illnesses I’ve discussed in this series, it appears to affect those of the XX persuasion more than the XYs.  Its onset it sometimes linked to physical stressors, such as infections, imbalanced gut flora, and hormones doing wacky things, as well as just plain stress.  However, we’ve yet to identify a single factor that guarantees you’ll get it, and having any or all of the above doesn’t mean you’re automatically going to.

As you can imagine, the impact of severe chronic fatigue is devastating.  It can totally prevent normal socialising, normal functioning – normal anything.  It leaves people without the strength or energy to do much more than maintain the physical functions, and I’m told even that can be a stretch on bad days.  Even those less severely impacted suffer the impacts on their work and social life, particularly as it can strike at any time of day.  For those whose friends or family suffer it, prepare to extend a lot of patience, sympathy, grace, and practical assistance wherever you can.

So, what’s the good news?  Unfortunately, it isn’t that there’s a cure.  There isn’t.  There’s also no one treatment.  Really, the news isn’t that good.  Treatments are largely changing lifestyle factors – ensuring a healthy diet, planning your day around periods you tend to have more or less energy, pacing yourself carefully, and practising good sleep hygiene, including avoiding caffeine or naps late in the day.  Gentle exercise may help some, but for those who suffer Post-Exertional Malaise (an increase in exhaustion after activity) will probably not benefit.  Symptoms such as headaches etc can be treated with painkillers.

The most important thing, as I understand it, is having support.  Supportive friends, a supportive workplace, but most of all, support from people who get it.  I think that’s true of most chronic illnesses – to have even just one person who knows what it’s like can be a huge relief.

Do you have chronic fatigue?  What was the trigger for you in developing it?  Do you have any coping strategies you can share?  Let me know in the comments.

 

Secondary Conditions: Fybromyalgia

I’ve written a lot about endometriosis.  I’ve also written about some of the “side-effects ” people with endo often suffer, such as back pain, digestive issues, and gastritis.  Now I want to write a little series on other chronic conditions that often appear alongside endometriosis.  Today, it’s fibromyalgia, aka fibro, FM, or FMS.

Before I carry on, I just want to apologise for this post being a little tardy – I’ve been very sick with a nasty, persistent cold and some rather bad flare-ups, so I haven’t had any energy to spare for writing this week.  I suspect there will just be one post next week as well, so bear with me for a bit whilst I recover.

Of all the chronic conditions that people with endo often end up with, fibro is probably the one I fear the most.  The reason for that is that my endo pain is generally confined to my torso, and at worst may cause shooting pains in the legs.  Fibro is just pain everywhere.  All over.  Muscles, joints, bones, the whole shebang.  Imagine that – pain embedded in your skeleton.  It can be limited to just a few spots on the body, true, but it can also effect the whole body at once.  People who have fibro have described it to me as hellish, rendering them completely unable to move.

In addition to pain, it can cause such delightful symptoms as tingling, muscles that twitch, cramp or go suddenly weak, headaches, dizziness, generalised weakness, sensory overload, impaired concentration so bad you can hardly string a thought together (aka brain fog), insomnia, restless sleep, intolerance of hot or cold, stiffness, irregular periods, depression, bowel troubles, bladder issues and more.  Doesn’t it just sound like a hoot?

Of course, the best part is that, just like endometriosis, we don’t know what causes it, and there is no cure.  We do know that stress exacerbates it and there seems to be a link between onset and physical trauma, but not all physical traumas cause fibro and not all people who suffer from fibro have experienced a physical trauma.  We also know you’re more likely to suffer from it if you’re a woman (80-90% of sufferers are female).

Because of the wide variety of exciting symptoms, fibro can be difficult to diagnose.  There’s no conclusive test, even through surgery.  It’s mostly a case of ruling out other causes for pain.  Unfortunately, this can often result in delays of diagnosis for sufferers of fibro.

The treatment is also difficult.  Mostly, it’s lifestyle management, like identifying and avoiding triggers (difficult to do when triggers can be things like, well, moving).  Many doctors recommend physio and gentle exercise, such as water-based exercise, yoga, or tai chi.  It’s also recommended to eat well, avoid stress (lol) and get plenty of rest (extra lol). (I note that I am laughing at how they make that sound so easy, not the idea itself – lots of rest and minimising stress are important in battling any chronic condition). Unfortunately, some things that can cause flare-ups can’t be avoided, such as weather changes (yes, seriously), and travelling.

There are medical treatments as well.  Some people can get along well with panadol and ibuprofen, but others may need to resort to stronger drugs like pregabalin and gabapentin.  Like treatment for endo, it can get expensive quickly.

The connection between endo and adeno and endo and PCOS probably seemed quite logical, but why have I linked endo and fibro?  Well, because studies suggest people with endo are more likely to suffer from fibro.  We’re also more likely to get chronic fatigue, a condition we tend to have in common with fibro sufferers, and which I will be writing about next.

I live in deep admiration for people with fibro, especially those who also suffer from endometriosis.  I have a really hard time sometimes just dealing with one condition.  I know how deeply it impacts every aspect of my life, from my relationships to my job.  Fibro just seems like…what fresh hell is this?  I know how you get through it – you have to, and do you do – but I am in such awe of your strength and willpower.  Keep fighting, my friends.

Do any of my readers have fibro?  I would love it if you could share your experiences with diagnosis, treatments, and just life with fibro generally in the comments.