“Hello, this is your uterus – I’m going to make today a living hell.”

This is pretty much what I woke up to this morning. It amazes me how easily I forget from one month to the next how awful being on my period makes me feel. I spent all day snuggled up to a hot pack, and strung out on narcotic painkillers. But – I did it at my desk. At Work. Jakobe tried to tell me to stay home this morning, but I refused, because if I stay home because of the pain, then the endometriosis wins. Fuck that.

In the meanwhile, I have to decide if it’s gotten bad enough for me to consider having another laparoscopy. It would be my fourth, and I have to figure that every time, it just makes things a little bit uglier in there. Please, will someone go inside me and fry my insides with a laser? It will just hurt for a minute, and then I’ll feel better for a while. But, it won’t last. That’s the thing about endo, it grows on you. I’ll never run far enough or fast enough to get away from it. I’ve tried.

When I was 20 my doctor asked me if I could get married and have kids. Right away. I looked at her like she was nuts, and just kind of laughed. Marriage wasn’t going to happen then, you have to meet someone you’d be willing to put up with, FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Oh, and love would be good. In any case, I’m glad that I held out for the right man. Now we’re working on the kids thing, but my reproductive system is ten years and two surgeries more trashed than it was when she recommended that I not put off starting a family. Oops.

So I still have this angry gnawing beast in my belly searching for different ways of making me wish that I was born with testicles. I think I’d more than happily put up with getting kicked in the stones every so often. It seems like a fair trade.