When I stopped my progesterone shots, and tore off the estrogen patches, I knew that a hefty period was on its way.
Even now, when I still haven’t been able to throw the remainder of those baby making drugs out, I knew that the pain would be hitting soon.
Because I didn't get pregnant, so a period was inevitable.
And a bad one at that. Because we all knew those baby making drugs were going to cause my endometriosis to flare.
My favorite catch 22 of all - that my endo prevents me from getting pregnant naturally, but the drugs required to get pregnant also work to exasperate that same condition that is preventing me from getting pregnant in the first place.
It's a vicious cycle.
I assumed this period would appear at some point while I was in Arizona though. And so, I packed the good drugs.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
The drugs which I specifically have a prescription for to help me get through periods like this.
And my heating pad. Which is almost just as crucial.
Both are in my luggage now.
My luggage which is who knows where at this point.
Because here I sit – in Portland. Again delayed.
And on the verge of what is shaping up to be a horrific period.
I have endometriosis. Stage IV endometriosis. My periods are brutal.
And the last place I want to be while suffering through one is stuck in an airport.
By myself.
With no good drugs. No hot bath. And no heating pad.
Do you ever get the feeling you’re being tested? Because that’s how I’m feeling right now. Like someone, somewhere, is pushing me to the edge and waiting for me to break.
Anticipating my explosion.
And even feeding into it.
Waiting around for me to truly lose it and put on a good show.
At this point, I’m supposed to be landing in Phoenix a little after 7. Assuming there are no more delays between now and then.
That means a little more than 5 hours until I can get my hands on the good drugs. Until I can eat something that won’t make me feel worse, and submerse myself in water hot enough to dull the pain.
Likely causing some scalding in the process, but hey – that’s sometimes the price you have to pay when you’re an endo girl.
I’m telling myself this a test though. Preparation for when I’m on Big Brother (because yes, I have come to realize now that it is totally inevitable – I’m expecting the producers to call any day now!) They have endurance challenges all the time on that show, and that’s what this is. A test of my endurance. Of my ability to keep from breaking under the pressure, pain, and sadness.
I can endure better than anyone.
But I can’t help questioning the timing of this. Why I would possibly start this period at the most inopportune time. When there is absolutely zero I can do to ease the hurt.
I feel like this is the lesson of the week right now.
My timing sucks.
I need to be patient.
My timing sucks.
I was talking to Mr. Fix-it last night from the airport, and he just texted me to see if I had made it yet.
I texted him back that he should shoot me if I ever try to travel on the holidays again.
And I meant it too.
From now on, if people want to see me during heavy travel times? Well they can just come to me.
Because right now, I can't even think about spending time with my family.
Or my friends.
All I can think about is the good drugs.
And how soon it will be before I can get my hands on them.
