Sunrise/Sunset – Another Day Lost
I wake with a stabbing in my left hip. The light is filtered through the shades. It’s early. The pain is elastic. I fold into myself, trying to put a little slack in the line. My breath is shallow, for lung expansion leads to the pull, the tug, the cinch, the snap. There seems to be a wire through my pelvis. I am a marionette to this disease.
I spend the day in bed. I try this and that and it’s futile. The pain doesn’t respond to convention. It remains, and tears collect on my pillow. I’m relying on my leading man to bring me food and help me to the bathroom. Shame is on my cheeks, I’m sorry on my lips.
The sun tucks behind the mountains. The room darkens. I turn on my bedside lamp. I missed the day. I couldn’t help with bathroom renovations. I canceled dinner with a friend. I’ve missed so much these twenty-some years with endometriosis flaring inside my body. Collapsed on hard floors. Thrown up in bed.
I’ve lost control of parts of myself that a person needs control of to feel whole.
I feel alone. I feel lost. I feel unseen. Misunderstood. Ashamed.
Over five million girls and women suffer from Endometriosis in the US, and many more suffer world-wide. I am not alone. I’m sorry I’m not. Endometriosis is a day-stealer. It is a dream-stealer. It is a life-stealer. And I don’t know what to do about it.