Enduring endometriosis: gynaecological healthcare is endlessly traumatic

Libby Hargreaves Editor-in-Chief

Gynecology is the department everyone with a uterus dreads visiting, but we can’t avoid.

The frantic frenzy to hide your pants in a pile of crumpled clothing, the cold chill of the speculum and that awkward waiting period before the doctor explains your examination results.

These moments alone are enough to make anyone dread returning, but the added stress of an incurable disorder?

I think most people with periods have heard the term endometriosis floating about, not quite sure what it means, but as someone who had always experienced heavy and painful periods, it was something I had researched at several points in my life. Despite this, I simply didn’t think I could have it- my pain wasn’t bad enough, everyone experiences the same so why am I complaining? From my mum telling me to simply ‘go for a walk’ to resolve the ‘aches’, to hearing my classmates in school could go a whole day with only a small tampon without leaks; I knew my experience was different, but thought somehow it was my fault, that I was doing something wrong.

It wasn’t until late last summer that I saw a GP. I had noticed a few new symptoms, that I didn’t actually connect with endometriosis until a few appointments later- my GP thought I may have a cyst in my abdomen as I had woken up several times in the early hours screaming in pain, clutching my side. Nothing I did could resolve the pain, it simply calmed down after a while. If you know me, it’s probably clear I like a certain level of control in all aspects of my life, so to have no control over my own body was especially scary. A few appointments later, I find myself in the emergency gynecology department. I had become feverish and my pain had worsened, my GP was worried it was a sign of infection. What ensued was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life; the sounds of women in pain, extensive personal questioning, the male doctor putting his hands on me without giving me time to object, a trans-vaginal ultrasound I was under the impression was going to be external...it’s safe to say I cried. The sonographer empathised with me as she gave me the diagnosis, understanding the complex emotion involved in the hospital visit. The male doctor then came into my room seemingly with the sole purpose of invalidating my experiences and emotions and gave me several packs of codeinean addictive opiate. You can imagine my distress when I booked a follow-up consultation and was told all 12 specialists were male. I felt it would be an endless cycle of this initial awful experience.

I left feeling confused, but somewhat relieved. We finally had an answer. I could do more research, find the best diets, lifestyle changes and get specialist consultations. The reality hit me a few days later: half of those with endometriosis experience fertility issues. Early menopause, ovarian cancer and a whole host of comorbidities such as PMDD were suddenly real risks. It put me face to face with choices I should be able to make much later in life.

I knew then, that I wanted to carry children...but what if I never got the chance? The maths didn’t add up; I’m 20, suddenly being advised to conceive before my egg quality decreases (at around 30), but that leaves just 10 years to kick-start the career of my dreams, become financially stable enough to care for an infant and be sure my partner is someone I want to raise a child with.

A rejuvenating weekend away led me to a tough truth- I had to change my choice in career. Though I want to believe women can have it all, a young female journalist on changeable shifts chasing the next big story simply isn’t who I want to be when I raise my children. I don’t want to worry what my career will look like when I return from maternity leave, I need it there waiting for me. Despite it being huge, the choice was an easy one and I’m already feeling the benefits to my mental health. Now, I’ve come to terms with my diagnosis and carry a Tenns machine with me to keep my pain to a minimum at work or in lectures. I’m on the waiting list for surgery and feel much more at peace with the future, though I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone.