When I had my op in January and my doc removed 99% of the nasty endo monsters inside, I figured it’d take me a while to recover and then I’d be the new and improved me. I’d be wearing jeans every day, eating whatever I wanted, able to do a million things a day, maybe I’d even save the planet.
Well…it hasn’t exactly turned out like that. For one thing, I’m nowhere near saving the world. I still haven’t had even a single slice of pizza. I certainly cannot wear jeans every day.
In reality, I can’t even say that I am pain-free. Don’t get me wrong, I am not in pain the way I was before, nowhere near that in fact. If my previous pain levels were around 9 or 10 (which they were towards the end of 2012) my current levels average around 3 or 4. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the dramatic reduction of pain in my life because I do. So much. Pain doesn’t consume my every waking thought now. It’s more like an annoying half-remembered task in the back of my mind that I have to get around to eventually. Since my surgery I’ve had complications which are probably stopping me from being the kick-ass superhero I want to be. My triumphant return to the world post-recovery was marred by a Bartholin’s cyst. The antibiotics gave me thrush and made me sick. Returning to my studies brought consistent back pain. The last month or so I’ve been having problems with my bladder which I’m starting new antibiotics for today.
So yeah. I haven’t really progressed as much as I’d have hoped. Perhaps it was naïve of me to hope at all. I know endo is an incurable condition yet still I prayed that my op would bring relief. I dreamed of living like other 20-somethings, having spontaneous fun, wearing jeans that actually fitted me, being able to do things all day without the need for a nap or rest, not having my schedule dictated by my medication. I’m an optimist I guess.
I’m not complaining though. My op has dramatically improved my quality of life. I don’t need as many painkillers now so my head isn’t as fuzzy as once it was. I’m able to do things that would have proved impossible before Christmas. I was able to go and have my little English adventure. Since February I’ve only had 2 days when I literally couldn’t get out of bed. I’ve dusted off jeans my size and worn them cautiously for a few hours at a time.
I’m not exactly Superwoman yet. And maybe I never will be. Being perfectly healthy doesn’t sound like something that will ever happen to me. I know that. I know that my future health is uncertain. I know I’ll worry about having sex and how much pain it’ll cause. I know it will probably be difficult for me to conceive naturally. I know that more treatments and procedures are in my future. I know that I’ll need a Dish to understand what my spoonie life is life. I know I’ll keep trying to raise awareness of this condition that changes so many women’s lives.
Maybe that’s all I can hope for. A life not perfect or pain-free but having the strength and the right tools to face whatever life throws at me.