"RED"

ASHLEY THOMPSON “RED”

Copyright © 2024 by Ashley Thompson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

First edition

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy. Find out more at reedsy.com

To all the women who were told their pain wasn’t real

To all the women who fight their battle in silence

To all the women who think they’re alone

And to all the women who have their own Red

Preface

The contents of this book include the following topics:

Blood

Nausea

Other Bodily Fluids

Mention of depression and anxiety

Fainting

Needles

Mention of medical treatments

If you are not comfortable with the aforementioned topics, please refrain from proceeding any further. The author of this book is not a medical practitioner and as such waives all responsibility if anyone wishes to participate in these treatments on their own.

This is a non-fiction piece of work which describes the author’s personal experience with the aforementioned topics and reproductive issue, Endometriosis.

Meet Red

In May 2013, when I was just 11 years old, I experienced something that would change my life forever. I had just come home from school and went straight to the bathroom to wash away the day. That’s when I saw her - Red. I knew what she was and that it was a normal part of growing up, but I wasn’t prepared for how I would feel when I finally met her. I hated the color red from that moment on. Some of my classmates had already started their friendship with Red, and although we talked about it, I still felt overwhelmed. Ilooked at her for what felt like an eternity before finally ringing my mother.

That evening, my mother taught me what to do when Red visited -how to make her comfortable. It was quite uncomfortable, and months passed before I began to feel okay with this new companionship that appeared in my life. It wasn’t easy and each month when Red would show up for her visits, her presence would make me feel miserable and trapped in my body.

As time passed, Red and I came to an agreement that worked for both of us. She would show up and leave at the same time each month, and in return, I just had to wait it out. This worked for us for some time, until it didn’t anymore. Red forgot a small detail in ouragreement andeverymonthshe’d show upangrier

than the first. I couldn’t understand why and for a while, I let her have her tantrums when she came. Until it became too much for me to handle. I thought by giving her time, she’d go backto being nicer to me, but she decided otherwise.

I held up my end of the deal for as long as I could, but Red wasn’t being fair. So, I had to do what was best for me, even if it meant silencing her. That day, the pills came into the picture. I had promised Red I’d never use them, that I’d just let her have her moments and come and go as she pleased.

But Red was no longer playing fair. And neither was I.

It started with one pill, just as a warning. I thought it would at least scare her, but she made up her mind. Red no longer cared for our agreement. It was all about her now. So, I fought back. One pill turned into two pills very quickly.

And just like that, Red was silenced. I saw her but she was no longer able to speak to me. And it was wonderful. I was finally able to sleep after what felt like forever.

For almost a year, this was our new arrangement, and I was quite happy withit. Red came,tried tospeakwithme and Ishut her up. It was simple yet so effective and we finally understood each other. At least, I thought we did.

Nearing our one-year mark, Red decided to switch things up a bit. That month, she didn’t show up when she was supposed to. She still tried to talk to me but refused to make the trip when Iasked for her. Iwasn’t too worried though; Iknew she’d be back soon.

Three days later after what I assumed was just a pitiful attempt to get my attention, Red showed up. I thought we’d be on good terms again, but she was increasingly upset with me and made sure I knew it. That week, I almost had to double the pills. Thankfully, she at least left on time.

I told myself she’d be in a much better mood the next time she came to visit.

Had I known how wrong I was going to be, I would have taken some pills in advance. Not only did Red decide to show up on time that month, but she also made it very clear that she had a bone to pick with me. A very sharp bone. A bone that pricked with every move I made.

I wasn’t sure what I did to upset her, but that week, I felt and heardeverythingshehadtosaytome. Andasmuchas Iwanted to, I refrained from the pills and listened to her.

Of course, she didn’t say much and preferred to be as physical as possible.

This temper tantrum went on for a few more months before Red calmed down and went back to being her usual punctual andslightlyless aggressiveself. That was theRed Iwas usedto. I saw her but made sure I didn’t hear her.

Red and I maintained this relationship right up until my 13th birthday. I wasn’t sure what changed or what I did to upset her. But she completely disappeared for months after I started high school.

Maybe she needed a break.

Red left in December 2014 and I didn’t see her again until February 2015.

You’d think she’d at least drop by to wish me a happy new year.

Though she wasn’t around, I didn’t miss her much. I wasn’t cranky leading up to her arrival. I wasn’t bloated and hungry all the time anymore. And I wasn’t popping pills like I was undercover in a ring anymore. Life was good, my body was good.

But of course, all good things must come to an end.

And that it did when Red came back.

She had changed beyond recognition. Normally she’d prickme here and there if she was moody but this time around, she just kept taking swings at me. You’d think I had done the worst to her.

Two pills turned into four, then four turned into at least six for the day.

Nights felt like eternity.

My belly felt like it was on fire.

My joints creaked more than an old wooden plank.

And everything hurt.

Why was she doing this? What did I do to her? I couldn’t take the pain. But I had to because she wasn’t going to explain. I curled up in bed night after night, waiting for her to go away, not knowing that this was only just the beginning.

Red was no longer a friend.

Hi, I’m Red

I’d introduce myself but I’d say she already did the honors for me. Anyway, I’m Red. Yes, the Red she was talking about. You wouldn’t be wise to listen to her. She didn’t understand why I had to show up and why I had to do the things I did.

She thought I worked alone and thought I made all the big decisions when I was following my orders.

What you should know is that it wasn’t all just new to her. It was new to me just the same. I had never met a girl before and was excited to be a part of her.

We were off to a great start the two of us, I popped in when I needed to, and we had a nice little give-and-take system going on. Things were wonderful. Then the orders started coming in. She didn’t tell you that I resisted for as long as I could.

They started rolling out tasks barely two months into my time with her. But I liked her, how could I just throw all that pain her way?

Icouldn’t.

So instead, I tried to ease her into it. I gave only a little at a time because I knew what would happen if I hit her all at once. She wouldn’t have wanted me around anymore. I’d no longer

be a friend but an inconvenience. I couldn’t bear for that to happen.

I tried my best with her. But that soon caught up to me and I was forced to hurt her. I didn’t want to, but I had to. It was my job. I was hoping she’d have a bit of faith in me but as soon as shefeltit all, shesilencedme. Pillson top ofpills on topof pills, just to keep me quiet.

Then I was hurt. Why couldn’t she trust me?

So, you see, I had good reason to go away for a while. I needed to. I thought it would help me cool down, but it didn’t. And I hated hurting her, but I couldn’t control myself. By that time, I was already fully trained and knew what I needed to do.

I knew she would hate me. But I did what I had to. I didn’t want to. But I had to.

Monk Street

I spent 5 years of my life on Monk Street and throughout those 5 years, Red and I had a love-hate relationship. During those 5 years, two very humbling and humiliating events took place on that street. And of course, she was responsible. The first such event took place in 2018 and the second in 2019.

I was wedged uncomfortably between two of my peers in an overfilled enclosure designed especially for those who wore the uniforms. It had been well over 40 minutes into a session I had scribbled onto my timetable and I was becoming restless. I sat, taking notes that were spilling from the facilitator’s mouth and mind all the while blissfully unaware that my now ‘lifelong’ friend had decided to pop into town for a spill.

I wouldn’t say I was always made aware of her visits but she usually sent me her very own version of a letter or singing telegram if you will. Her favorite way to inform me of her arrival was by sending her stagehands kicking and throwing tantrums in my belly as if they were toddlers who wouldn’t get their way. For whatever reason, she decided to surprise me, ruining my day and leaving me a mess and ashamed.

Remember that love-hate relationship I mentioned earlier?

Well, this was the start of a very quick and yet agonizing demotion to simply hatred and sheer annoyance. Doodling along quite nicely, I finished up my tasks just in time for the bell. I gathered my belongings and turned to check if I had missed anything. That’s when I got her message. It was as if she was just lying there with a nasty grin on her face.

How could she do this to me? Why would she come and not tell me?

She couldn’t have picked a worse possible time to make her appearance. Smug as ever, she plastered herself to my seat, watchingme scramble to hide her. I cleaned her up as discreetly as I could, not realizing that she left her mark on my clothes as well. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for fashion but I don’t know what she was thinking. Red and green in March? Just no girlfriend.

Fashion failure aside, Red made me a target for immature teenage boys and insecure teenage girls. It mattered not if any of the girls got a visit from Red at least once, I was made a mockery of for the remainder of the day. It was high school so by the next day there was a hot new topic.

ButRedhumiliatedmeandontopofthat,sheruinedaperfectly good uniform. She had one more time to try me before I shut her out again. Now I’m not sure if she heard me complaining and it hurt her feelings or if she just decided to be a little nicer to me and give me a break. But Red was on her best behavior for months after that,

She still sent her minions to throw their pelvic tantrums but it wasn’t as unbearable as before. Maybe she was being nice. Maybe she had a change of heart. I didn’t know what it was but I was glad she and I were finally getting along again.

Weplayedniceformonthsbutallthatchangedononeparticular day in December of that year. The day started great, the air was cool and crisp, wispy clouds as far as the eye could see, and not too far away, you could hear the voices of almost 100 students singing songs of Saturnalia.

Ofcourse, Icouldn’t participateinthefestivitiesasRed decided to hit full force that morning. Curled up in the corner of an empty classroom, belt unbuckled, shoes off and veins saying their ABCs on my forehead, I was going through it.

MybellyfeltlikeitwasrejectingeverythingIateinthemorning, my back felt like it was going to rip in half, my breasts were swollen and uncomfortable and my pelvis felt like it was about to snap. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. After what felt like hours of moaning and twisting and praying for the pills to kick in, the urge to find the nearest bathroom hit me like a Raptor truck.

I left my things and managed to make my way to the bathroom. I was dreading every second of it because I knew what was coming next. Red had come up with this new way of torturing me and this was by far the worst thing she’d ever done. She’d make me eat and eat and eat and wait days, even up to a whole week before she’d let me relieve myself.

But it wasn’t that simple, no. It was never simple with her. When she’d finally allow me to go, she’d make it excruciatingly difficult and painful to even have an ounce of relief. So when I dragged myself to that bathroom stall, I knew I was in for it.

I positioned myself, toes curled, fingers gripping the walls as I braced myself for the pain and even though I knew what was about to come, I still wasn’t ready. I pushed once and felt a pain so sharp travel from my bum to my belly. I tried stopping the feeling, I relaxed my muscles hoping the pain would go away. But it didn’t. No matter how hard I tried to stop, to fight my body, it was as if I was giving birth and the only option was to push.

Red did this to me, she caused that kind of hurt and agony in my body. I tried and I tried but the pain was too much. Before I knew it, I was on the floor, underwear by my ankles and hunched over, trying to stop the pain. I knew I needed help, I knew I had to call someone but it was early in the morning, the population was stuck celebrating winter and all my belongings were left in the classroom. What was I to do?

I stayed there, on the floor, waiting for someone, anyone to come to my aid. Some time went by and I heard a voice, it was one of the attendants. I called out to her and begged her to help me. A total stranger pulled my knickers up my legs and carried me out of that stall. Being found in a position like that was downright humiliating and yet so humbling.

The attendant followed my instructions and took me back to the room I was in before Red decided to have a field day with

my body. That was the beginning of a very long road ahead. And Red was responsible for that.

TheBathroom Stall

I watched her. All morning I watched her groan in pain and beg me to stop. Part of me wanted to but I couldn’t. I had to followmy orders and ontoday’sagenda, Ihadto kick thingsup a notch. She was 16 and I was given new instructions. Before I just showed up a bit late and overstayed my welcome for a month or two, nothing extensive, and as it always was, caused some discomfort in the areas that were on my list.

I was under the impression that I was going to be like all the others. That I’d show up, do my thing, and then leave. But the minute she turned 16, all my orders changed. They wanted me to do all these things to her and I was told that I wasn’t going to be like all the others. I wasn’t just a normal cycle, her body wasn’t like every other girl her age. Things were going on I simply couldn’t explain to her and she needed to figure it out on her own.

They told me what I was. Endometriosis. They told me what my purpose was in her body. But they never told me why. So even if I wanted to tell her, what would I even say? I didn’t want to continue hurting her, I had to send a message and tell her that something wasn’t right. For months I tried thinking of

different ways to tell her and then it hit me. I couldn’t speak to her, but she could feel me.

That morning she told you about, the pain and such, it didn’t all just hit her at once. I tried to put some space in between all the ‘events’ but they couldn’t be too far apart in case she forgot one or two of them. I needed her to pay attention. So before she left home, I started with something simple. While she was asleep, I sent the first message to her breasts. I only made them a little tender, just to get her attention. But that didn’t work very well. So I tried making her eat. It had been a week since she went to relieve herself so I knew breakfast would do the trick. But that took time, so for that I needed to be patient.

I gave her a break on her way to school but kept a little discomfort going in her belly By the time she got to school, I was under pressure to carry out my orders, Ihad stalled enough. So I sent it all at once. Back pain, pelvic pain, headache, tender breasts, I had to do it all. But it still wasn’t enough, she still wasn’t listening to me. All she did was curse me when I was trying to help her. Ungrateful much?

Enough time had passed so I knew what my final move was. I had to send her to the bathroom. I started doing this particular ‘trick’ only a few weeks before and I knew she hated it but I had no other choice. So, she went to the bathroom and every time she’d push, I sent what would feel like a shock wave through her bum to her belly. I was sure that would work. It had to. There was just one thing though, in all my efforts I had hurt her more than ever that time around.

I could only hope she got my message.

A Prick Here, A Look There, A Feel Where?

I was never afraid of needles. Did I like them? No, but if I had to be pricked then that wasjust it. Had I been afraid, I would’ve never been able to find any kind of relief from whatever Red was doing to me. My first run-in with a needle in this context came just two hours after the bathroom attendant took me back to the classroom. I was picked up by my mother and rushed to the nearest clinic.

There I was immediately given a bed as I was unable to sit without doubling over and standing wasn’t even an option on the paper. After waiting for who knew how long and not knowing where to rub to ease the pain, a doctor came to see me. I explained the situation, and my history with Red and begged for painkillers. I wasn’t thoroughly examined enough to figure out the root of the issue but after feeling my belly and considering most of the pain was in my bum, the doctor had just the thing for me.

She turned me on my side, I flinched at the sudden movement, and within seconds, she pricked my bum and administered her cure. That prick was the beginning of many, I just didn’t know

it yet.

A few months later, I was hit with the same combination once again. I was at home with my mother when I felt the urge to head to the bathroom. By that point, I became worried and hesitant every time I had to set foot in there. I knew what was coming but the pain was so bad, I couldn’t do anything but listen to my body. No matter how much it hurt, I had to sit through it. The norm at the time was to grab hold of anything I could reach and squeeze until it passed.

There were days I wasn’t even able to sit on the toilet seat without being in pain. And it was just one of those days. I tried sitting at first and it was okay but then the pain made it’s appearanceand all bets were off. Red wasn’t there that day but it felt as bad as if she were there. I tried my best to push or not push but both of those options only intensified the pain. My body needed to relieve itself while it simultaneously restricted itself.It was a lose-lose game from the start.

That day, I had to be lifted off the toilet by my mother and once again rushed to a clinic. Yet again, I was offered a bed as I was physically unable to sit. If I tried it would feel as though shards of glass were piercing through my nether regions. The doctor administered her drugs andIgot toaskingwhat waswrong with me. She worked her way through the list. Prolonged bleeding, bloating, tenderness, painful periods, extreme constipation, and anxiety beyond control led her to tell me it was simply Dysmenorrhea. I was 16.

At 18, I secured a temporary position at a government institu-

tion. I spent a total of four weeks there and in week two, Red decided to show up with new tricks. I sat through an hour of the drive to get to Kingston and just as the bus turned to reach mystop,Ifelt awaveof pain washthroughmybelly. My period had been absent for a month or two before that day so I was confused and worried because I wasn’t equipped to deal with her that day.

I crossed my fingers and prayed that she was just letting me know she was on her way. I hadn’t gotten anything ready for her arrival so I hoped more than ever that she would wait. But typical Red, she did only as she pleased and before I knew it, warmth was spreading through my pants. That was the beginning of a horrible two weeks.

After that little incident, I went back to work the following day and did my best to work through the pain. I’d say I did good the first week. I was anticipating her departure soon anyway, so I wasn’t worried. But Red decided to stick around for whatever reason. Week two rolled around and I spent the majority of my workdays crouched on the toilet waiting for the pain to stop. Not onlywasshe overstayingherwelcome, shedecided tomake her presence even more known. I began changing more than four times a day just to keep up with her. I had been bleeding for over two weeks at that point and I hated to admit it, but Red was beginning to take a toll on me.

Physically, I couldn’t keep up with her and mentally I was just over it all. I started using the elevators to make my way through the building as my legs would give out every 10 steps. I was nauseous and weak and felt like a baby deer every time I stood.

I couldn’t continue to let her have that much control over me.

So once again, I went to the clinic. By now, the nurses knewme by name and my doctor didn’t have to guess why I was there. I tookmyplaceonthebed,myhandsbymysideandmyeyesshut so tight as she pinched and squeezed and felt and looked almost everywhere on my body. Before I knew it, my legs were up and she examined the most intimate parts of any woman. At that point, I was all too familiar with the cold touch of the speculum and the discomfort that accompanied its contact with my body. By the end of that visit, I was given a new appointment date, an ultrasound paper, and instructions to see a gynecologist.

My mother accompanied me on this visit. She seemed just as concerned as I was, if not more. I was used to general practitioners who gave very general information so I was looking forward to hearing what the gynecologist had to say. Introductions were done, documents were handed over and the examination began.

Once again, I was on a bed. Only this time I was completely nude with only a thin piece of fabric draped across my chest as I waited. It was a thorough examination. Inside and out. No stone or fold was left unturned, or however, the phrase goes.

First up were my breasts, those were swollen and sore, and tender to the touch.

My belly decided to be unoriginal and follow suit.

My lower abdomen stung like I was bit by something from Australia.

The muscles and nerves surrounding my rectum proved to be working against me.

And my ‘lady flower’, accompanied by Red and my cervix, showed nothing but negative results.

My ovaries were performing below average and decided to harbor nasty residents without my permission. The left ovary was lazy, leaving all the work up the right ovary and punishing me as a result.

With all this information, the word of the evening turned out to be endometriosis. The conversation went from discussing differentpillsIwastogiveatrialrun,tosurgery,thentopossible infertility.

After years of pain and bleeding and touching and squeezing and pricking and introduction to medieval-looking metallic probes, the answer that I’d been waiting for was a 13-letter word that had no cure. Just my luck.

I Thought You Liked Me

6 years, it took me 6 years to finally get her to see me. It took me 6 years to get her to understand what was going on in her body, and to get her to pay attention. Now she knows what to do. Now she knows how to handle it. Now I don’t have to worry if she can survive and take care of herself when things get bad.

Things had been weird between the both of us for quite some time but I still tried to make her comfortable. I thought that since she finally knew what I was, we would have a better relationship right? Wrong. Once she found out, she went on a witch hunt trying to find ways to get rid of me.

The gynecologist told her that I was there to stay and I hoped that she’d be happy about that. But no, she wanted nothing to do with me. When she found out what I was, she was so sad. She stayed in bed much longer than she normally did, she wasn’t eating, she barely slept and no matter how many times I tried talking to her, she’d just down a pill and shut me out.

I worked so hard for her to get to know me but the very thought of me sent her into a depressive and quite honestly annoying

phase. She knew there was no cure, yet she glued herself to her computer day in and day out looking for a way to rid herself of me. Dieting, exercise, more pills, surgery, the list just went on and on. She was set on ‘getting better’ as if I was something that was sucking the life out of her.

I eased up on the belly pains as much as I could but I’m hardwired to attack certain parts of her body. It’s not like I had a choice. If she’d just listened to me she would’ve understood my side of the story. But no, it was all about her. Nobody cared that I had feelings too. Nobody cared that I didn’t want to be this version of Red. All the others have great relationships with their girls. But I got one who wouldn’t give me the time of day.

After all that work, I gave up. She only wanted to see me as a negative factor in her life so that’s exactly what I became. I tried being nice to her, tried getting to know her but she made it very clear where I stood in her life. She wanted me out but I wasn’t going away without a fight.

I made my home in two different parts of her body but I mostly visitedthe onelocated where the sundoesn’t shine. Some called it weird but I found it quite comfortable. By the time she found out about me though, Ihad outgrown that tiny space and needed to branch out. I searched and searched for maybe 2 years before I found the perfect spot for my next forever home. It was pink and soft and just right. It was a bold choice but I knew that I’d be able to work my magic even better at this new location. Don’t be fooled though, I wasn’t giving up my first home. I simply needed a bigger space and her cervix was just that.

She sat for months trying to figure out and test different ways to get rid of me but I was having the time of my life with my new dual housing. On days I felt the most neglected, I sent a little message to the bowel to get her in check. But if I wanted to hurt her, then my new home, was the perfect place to settle in and get to work.

Nighttime was my favorite. She’d pop a few pills, drink some herbal tea, and settle in thinking I’d left her alone for the night. Shecouldn’thavebeenmorewrong. Ineverlikedashowoffbut work like mine deserved to be appreciated. My finest moments were the night I had her curled up in the corner of her bed for hours. I pulled out all the stops. Belly ache, back pain, nausea, a heavy flow, burning pelvis, and unimaginable constipation. That was truly my best work.

On other nights I kept it a little low-key and just threw in some belly pain. I got creative during the days though. I’d show up for a few hours, get some work done, and then give her a little break. Maybe it was slightly cruel but when I felt like getting creative,I’dletitflowlikeamonsoonforafewmonthsandthen be on my merry way. She’d be sore and miserable and begged me to stop but where was the fun in that? I had an agenda and I was determined to get it done.

She was almost 19 and in the process of testing out new ways to make me go away. I couldn’t let her think it was working, could I? I wasn’t through with her yet and I wasn’t going to be silenced just because she said so. I still had so much to do and her clock was ticking.

I tried being civil with her but the day she found out about me

she turned on me. So what better way to show her how she made me feel than to press all the right buttons?

Pills or Sticks?

Yaz. Visanne. Depo-Provera, the ‘endo’ trinity. Those three are my girls, they set me on the path to doing everything I could to feel better and get rid of Red for good. Remember that gynecologist I mentioned earlier? Yes, well she was the one who recommended I tried Yaz.

Iwas 18, incredibly clueless about the worldof birth control yet so ready to be free of Red. The doctor walked me through the symptoms, explained my dosage, and taught me how to track my progress. I left her office excited to begin my new journey. I’d had enough of Red and her antics. My body was aching, my lady parts were sore, and my bum felt like it was on fire. I was ready to get better. I marched into the nearest pharmacy, purchased my pills, and all but skipped home.

That night, I followed my dosage instructions and took the first two pills. At the time I had been bleeding for about two weeks so I was ready for it to stop. Taking two pills at a time was somehow supposed to ‘reset’ my hormones and allow my ovariestoreleasethecorrect number ofeggspermonth,sparing me another month of this torture. I was more than ready for the faucet to be turned off.

About two weeks went by, and the dosage went down to one pill a day but nothing changed. The flow only got heavier as time went on. In disbelief, I rang the doctor, who informed me that it was all very normal, and I should give it a month or two to ‘settle in my system’ . I obliged and continued taking the pills.

Two months go by and absolutely nothing changed. Red was still attacking my body, I still had trouble sleeping, I still felt excruciating pain whenever I tried to relieve myself and I was still very much miserable. Yaz had failed me. So it was time to try something new.

A month after that disaster I discovered Visanne. The gynecologist had shipped me off to a local hospital for further examination and treatment. I told them my tale and they spit out Visanne. They said it was specifically designed to help treat endometriosis so I was very optimistic about this one. Yaz was a trial run, a hope for a better tomorrow. Visanne was designed to give me my happy ending. There was no way it wouldn’t have worked.

I left my very first appointment at the hospital, a prescription in hand, my belly bloated and my dignity a little tainted from that examination. But I had what I needed, my ticket to a good night’ssleepandRedout ofmylifefor good. Thiswas it. Ithad to work right? Wrong.

I had been on it for maybe 2 months and the only change I saw was in the flatulence department. I became even more bloated, if you could believe that was even possible and the bleeding continued just the same.

I did note one difference between the first drug and the latest one. One made my flow heavier and the other kept it at what I thought was a normal amount. So was I getting closer to finding what would work for me? Of course, given the failure of the drug, I went back to the hospital and just like with Yaz, I was told to give it some more time. So I did.

In Summer 2022, I went out of the country for work. I brought enough pills to last me the entire summer. I was not about to be struggling thousands of miles away all on my own. At that time, I had been granted some relief from Red. I don’t know what changed her mind or if the pills were finally working, but I got two months completely free. I was still very much bloated and cramping and still struggled to go to the bathroom but at least I wasn’t bleeding anymore. That made me happy.

Knowing my luck though, that happiness was very much shortlivedbecausesoonafterthecelebration, Istartedbleedingagain. Red came back. Were the pills just not working? Or did my bodyjustnotstandachanceagainstRed? Whatwashappening?

The bleeding came back and everything intensified. Visanne wasn’t working for me anymore, my regular painkillers weren’t working anymore but I couldn’t just stay home and feel sorry for myself. I had to get up and fight for myself every day. The pain was unbearable but I had no other choice, I still took the pills and I prayed that they would work again but they never did.

There were days on the job when I had to crouch on the floor to feel any kind of relief or be hunched over the bathroom sink,

nauseous from the pain. Twelve-hour shifts, four times a week, when I felt like my entire pelvic floor was coming loose was going to be the end of me. I was sure of it. I spent the rest of the summer, struggling to not crawl into my bed every second of the day. That was my reality.

I didn’t think the day would come but I was finally back home andofcourse,backinthe hospital. Iwas furious. It didn’twork. I suffered for months because it didn’t work. I desperately needed to know what my others were.

Lectrum, Laparoscopy and Depo-Provera. Those were my options. Lectrum was fairly new on the market and could very possibly weaken my bones. No. Laparoscopy would’ve set me back six hundred thousand dollars. Didn’t have it. DepoProvera, a shot on my bum every three months, roughly four thousand dollars. Now that I could work with.

The first shot I got was in September of 2022. Surprisingly, it stopped the bleeding for a few months but the pain got ridiculously worse. So of course, I went right back to the hospital. They upped my dosage to 300mg and I went on my merry way.

It was time to go away yet again. Summer had rolled around and I was about to leave the country. Depo had been doing wonders for me. Red had almost completely disappeared from my mind. Had I done it? Had I gotten rid of her for good? No, no I hadn’t. I left in May, and Red came back in the middle of it and refused to leave. Just like in 2022, she made my summer a nightmare. At that point, I had given up. There was nothing I

could do to stop her was there?

I made it through the summer, and with many bloody sheets and clothes and painkillers later, I was once again back home. This time, I simply made a call to my doctor. Was it my body?

Was I incurable? Why weren’t any of the medications working for me?

Was I meant to deal with this disease for the rest of my life? I couldn’t afford surgery, the pills didn’t work and the injection didn’t seem very promising either. Pregnancy was always an option. A sure one? No, but an option just the same. Whenwas I going to find some relief?

I was told to give the Depo another try, to give it two years, and see if my body was properly adjusted. So that’s what I decided to do.

BetterLuck Next Time

Two years of trying to silence me. Two years of experimenting with pills and injections and she still couldn’t get rid of me. She never will and that’s what she needed to understand. Whether she liked it or not, I was going to be a part of her forever. She made a fair attempt with Yaz, I’d give that to her but it still wasn’t enough. Visanne was a step up and I took a few hits there but again, she needed to come stronger than that. With these two, it silenced a different thing I’d annoy her with but it wasn’t as if I didn’t have other options. She took away the cramps,andIincreasedthebloating,shetookawaythebloating, and I made her bleed for months. Call it cruel or heartless but just like her, I did what I needed to do, for me.

The Depo, however, caught my attention. That one had quite a kick to it. I couldn’t tell you what was in it or how it worked but it sure did a number on me. Thankfully, it didn’t last very long, and I was able to ‘resurface’ but if she managed to keep using it, it wouldn’t have looked good for me at all.

I wasn’t sure if she knew, but the best option for her was the laparoscopy. That truly was the only way she’d ever be rid of me but I wasn’t going to tell her that. The pills were touch

and go, they didn’t work for everybody and there were too many exceptions and specifications. The Visanne could’ve had a chance if I hadn’t had this much time with her. I’ve already sunken my claws into her, she and I have been one for far too long. Those doctors sheseemedto love so much weren’t ableto find me until years after the fact. It took them 6 years to even realize that I was there.

By the time they showed up, I knew more about her than they ever could. I saw her before they ever did. I was there long beforethem. Evenif one ofthem was ableto convince her todo the surgery, they still wouldn’t be able to find me. They would begiving herfalse hope. Ifthey were barelyabletoeven tell her what I was, did she think I’d allow them to find me and burn me out of existence? She’d be dumber than she already was.

I’m Red. I was able to withstand all those treatments and herbal teas and her pathetic exercise kick to try to get rid of me. She can pop pills and standaround to be pricked every three months as much as she’d like to, but I’m not going anywhere for now so she’d better get comfortable.

Better luck next time darling.

I’ll Be Fine

It’s been quite a journey for me. My body and my mind have beenputthroughthewringer. Atjusttheageof11,Iwasthrown into the world of womanhood, my life as I knew it changed for the rest of my life. It may sound dramatic but it’s simply the truth.

I was introduced to a world of pain, emotional trauma, depression, and anxiety for my future. I was experiencing a type of pain that had me curled up on my bathroom floor, on my bed, and in my high school bathroom. Yet, I had to carry on with my life. I had to operate daily as if my belly didn’t feel like it was on fire 24/7, as if the pain coursing through my body wasn’t making me nauseous the majority of the time, and as if my ability to function like a normal person hadn’t been compromised.

From age 14-21, my second home was either a private clinic or a public hospital. Injections every three months are now necessary for my daily function, painkillers no longer work the way they’re supposed to and I have a terrible relationship with food and my body.

Chronic constipation has been my new normal for years and I’ve been forced to watch and feel as my belly stretched 2-3 times its actual size to accommodate the disease that decided to take up residence in my bowel tissue and cervix. On a good day, it was only a few cramps and bloating. On my worst day, I’d be hit with a rectal pain so sharp, I’d be unable to walk or change my position.

Endometriosis is a disease that will ruin you if you allow it to. It’s aggressive, next to undetectable, and much like the feeling it brings during a flare-up, spreads like wildfire. It took years to find a treatment that worked for me. Some women take a more natural route and others like me prefer to take the scientific route. Whether herbal or medical, experimentation and trial and error is a phase that women who are saddled with endometriosis cannot skip.

It took me having to go through three different treatment plans before I found one that seemed to do the trick. It doesn’t erase my symptoms, I still feel pain from time to time, my belly still bloats, and I still get constipated. But I can function day to day. I can wake up each day without having to take 10 pills just to get a task done.

I haven’t been very accepting of my body since this ‘thing’ changed it. But I’ve somehow managed to get to a point where I adore and respect my body for everything it has gone through and will continue to go through. Without surgery, for most, endometriosis thrives wherever it decides to reside in the female body. Add the lengthy period for diagnosis and the fact that like me, some women are told that their pain at an

early age is ‘normal’ and ‘nothing to worry about’ , and by the time the professionals get around to it, the damage would have already been done.

Endometriosis mirrors a plethora of other reproductive issues and with surgery being the only way to know for sure, many women are left undiagnosed and untreated. In Jamaica, the cost of an exploratory laparoscopy procedure goes over half a million dollars. Regular citizens, like myself, cannot reach into our pockets and produce that amount of money. This forces us to put our bodies through experiment after experiment until we can finally get some relief.

I have been dealing with endometriosis for eight years. And throughout those years I have learned to be stronger than I could’ve ever imagined, mentally and physically. I have been forced to develop a level of patience that I never knew was possible.

Endometriosis changes you, for the good or the better, you won’t know until you know. But it changes you. It’s difficult to livewithandit’ssomethingyouwillneverbegintoexplaininits entirety to someone who doesn’t also have it. Your experience is unique to you and you know your body better than anyone. Listen to it. Listen to your Red. She can be the worst but she’s thereto stay and she tells you what you need to know.

It took me quite some time to accept her, and what she’d done to my body. It won’t be easy and she might get to you but you just need to develop some kind of understanding with your body and your mind. Knowing how your body operates, and

learning its signals and cues will help you greatly in choosing theright treatment, therapy, and even the right foods to eat.

This thing called Endometriosis will never be easy. There may be days you want to give up and just let it consume you, I’ve had those days, so I mirror the sentiment. But once you take the time to be in tune with what is going on inside your body, over time, you’ll experience a type of internal peace you never thought was possible.

Give yourself grace. Just like any other illness or reproductive issue, time and patience are important factors when it comes to healing. The treatments may not always work for your body or your stage of endometriosis. Do not be discouraged. Work with your doctor, explain your needs, and give yourself grace.

It is not an easy thing to live with endometriosis. Personally, it feelslikeit getsworse everyday. But Itrytoremindmyselfthat perhaps one day I’ll be ableto ridmyself of Redfor good. Until then, I’m keeping up with my Depo and giving myself grace. And if I can say that I’ll be fine, then so can you.