Let’s Chat with Lara
by Lara Armstrong
You are breaking me.
I sit here at 41 years old, feeling as fragile and frightened as when I was 14. 14 is when I remember first trying to seek help. My mum wondered if I was having a miscarriage, as she sponged my shaking, naked body on the toilet as I vomited into the sink. The pain was unbearable and my heart breaks knowing the rest of the story that would continue.
14 was when I first heard a doctor say, “young girls tend to be overdramatic”.
32 was when I first heard the word endometriosis. Eighteen years it took for a diagnosis through surgery.
My whole existence feels like this disease. I am consumed by the relentless torture of pain, fatigue and brutality that is just getting through each day. I am sad, genuinely heartbroken by it. All my memories related to whether I had cramps, bloating, or just maybe one of the few days you let me breathe for a little bit. Nothing prepared me for the life that would be. This endo life. There was no education, no support for me, my family or my partner. We had to learn through countless misinformation and prejudice.
My first surgeon did not speak of the emotional torment that would be when the pain returned. Or that my organs might adhere through surgery and cause chronic nerve pain. My second surgeon told me I would be up and about in four days. When the pain continued again, his suggestion was to “just get pregnant”.
I feel trapped inside my body. I cannot breathe from the exhaustion of this existence, and I have become frightened of this body. When will the next ambulance be called? Will I be at home and on the toilet, my partner having to clean me up before the paramedics arrive? Or will I be out? In front of colleagues, ashamed and embarrassed. I know I am not alone in writing this, there are so many going through this. Our voices are not being heard, our pain unvalidated and our suffering continuing.
It is Saturday as I write this, and my friends and colleagues are all out, posting their smiles on Instagram. My partner is in town alone because I am unable to walk this afternoon. I will rest and wear pyjamas all weekend because everything else hurts. I will go to work on Monday and hope I am able to get through the week without tears, without sick leave, without too many pills taken. I will smile and say it’s ok.
But it is not ok. None of this is ok. I wish everyone out there who is fighting as hard as they can, love and hope for a brighter future.
Since penning this piece, Lara has been diagnosed with adenomyosis as well, post undergoing a hysterectomy. She has also had further endometriosis removed, and an endometrioma removed from her left ovary. She was fortunate enough to self-fund the much needed surgery and find a qualified surgeon who understands the complexities of chronic pain. She has also been referred to a pain specialist.
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