Adenomyosis

So, I have a word for it now. 

Adenomyosis.

It's a form of endometriosis, indeed, but internal. Apparently no found lesions neither on the bladder, nor on the ovaries (and indeed the left one did shoot its shot this time, the fucker still hurts a week later). The uterus is enlarged and rounded, "globular". Homogenous structure, but turn on the vascularization view and you see that not all is well. Described as "rain in the forest". How poetic of a term. 

Apart from its rounded shape and bigger size, you wouldn't guess something's wrong, I guess.

The call comes from inside the house.

***

Echographist told me that probably I'd need an MRI to investigate further because endometriosis doesn't always show up on ultrasounds, and it's a more precise method. I immediately booked an appointment with my midwife: if nothing frees up before, I'll go on June 26, so in a couple of weeks. 

I just read that most of the time it's older women who have had multiple pregnancies and/or surgical acts on the uterus that are diagnosed with adenomyosis. Me? I'm not even 27 yet. 

The cells are growing inside. It's weird. It reminds me how I have everything inside, too. The endometrial tissue doesn't go out: it hides inside the walls of the uterus. 

***

You wanna know what's the worst? The only way to truly cure it is to remove the uterus. Endometriosis? You excise the lesions. They come back. You keep slicing them off.

But adeno? You can manage the condition with medications, hormones... but it's progressive, and the only way you'll ever be truly rid of it is sacrificing your womb.

The place where life is born.

The idea makes me cry. The idea that to not feel pain anymore, I'd have to remove this body part in particular. I don't even necessarily want biological children: it's the symbol of it. The symbol of creation. To remove my uterus is to remove what makes me a creator at the core. To kill what's left of me. Creation, or its unrealized potential. Never could I touch my lower belly, even if empty, and feel that I'm carrying something. 

You know what it reminds me of?

Those assholes who tell me I should be detached. Kill the part of me that loves and wants to be loved. Because my heart is both the biggest source of fulfilment and the source of suffering so immense I almost died from it.

It's the exact same mechanism.

I would not survive a hysterectomy and I will say it now.

The day you take off this part of me, it's over. Either I bleed out on the table, or I simply will not make it for very long after. Infections, or sudden, "unexplained" passing. 

The day I'm left unable to love, I will wither and die, and again, nobody may be able to explain what exactly got me. I will just quietly slip away because I would be a ghost before my time.

***

I'm just. I don't know how the fuck has nobody bothered to further investigate when I was 21.

I wish I could talk to Hopoe about this. Yours goes out uncontrollably: mine grows inside and presses upon everything that's surrounding.