Mirena IUD- Insertion

I was not expecting that level of pain.

Having the Mirena inserted was like having a tiny troll with a sword stab my uterus repetitively then take his small fist and grab some uterine lining and pinch it with all his might multiple times.

I cried.

The four 200-mg Advil pills I took just 15 minutes prior to the procedure did nothing to shield the pain.

Imagine one of the worst kind of cramps in the center of your pelvis. It’s warm, dull and achey and it makes you nauseous. Add some sharp pangs and a doctor asking you to relax every 2 seconds –that’s the Mirena insertion.

I thought they’d numb me. They should have. Heck I should have gotten an epidural.

The Mirena is for my adenomyosis. The next option is to remove my uterus altogether. Doctor says that’s the best option if there are no kids in the works.

No doctor- stop trying to make kids happen. It’s not going to happen!

I am #1In10

Resharing my post from instagram: Myshellie23

I am one in 10. Being a woman with endometriosis means I am always in pain. It means I push past the pain and go to work anyways. It means sitting at an office when I really just want to curl up into fetal position. It means smiling when I’m actually gritting my teeth. It means laughing when I want to cry. It means telling my partner, “No” when I really want to say, “Yes.” It’s saying, “I’m fine” when I actually mean, “Take me to the ER again.” It’s people telling me that I’m lazy or that I’m not dedicated. It’s knowing I can’t eat that pizza, that hamburger, that steak or drink that cocktail for fear I’ll have even worse pain. It’s looking like I’m five months pregnant when I can’t even conceive. It’s walking when I want to run. It’s doing the scaled versions of some workouts when I wish I could do the intense ones. It’s pretending I’m OK when I’m at a party/event that I forced myself to go to in the first place. It’s getting surgery after surgery to “fix it” but no relief. It means people will see nothing looks wrong with me and think I’m a liar. It’s caring what they think when I know I shouldn’t. It means finding the strength I didn’t know I had. It means finding new ways to enjoy life I hadn’t thought about. It’s being happy in spite of the pain or the devastating news I’ve received from my doctor. Being a woman with endometriosis is knowing I will get through all of this even when I’ve had days where I wanted to quit. 🎗🎗

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#endometriosis #endo #endometriosisawareness #1In10 #adenomyosis @theendo.co @endowhat @supportendometriosisawareness

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Endo in my endo

I’ve had a rough few days with intense aches, pain and nausea.

My symptoms got so bad this weekend that by Sunday night, I was struggling to walk. I had chills, night sweats and excruciating abdominal pain. I couldn’t breathe it was so bad. My belly button also looked weird – to me. Anxiety kicked into overdrive.

On Monday when my pain didn’t subside even with painkillers (and became worse), I frantically called my doctor. The nurse asked that I go in immediately.

They made me pee in a cup. My two doctors also did a physical examination.

It was then when they decided to share the lab results from the laparoscopic surgery with me. They had done an extensive endometriosis resection and removed endo from my ureters, pelvic walls, rectum, right ovary and underneath my uterus. I had no crazy adhesions from the previous surgery and no endo on my diaphragm or lungs (woot!).

They also told me that they had diagnosed me with adenomyosis on top of the endometriosis, which I’ve learned is not uncommon for women with endo.

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My uterus, according to my doctor, is enlarged (swollen), which is one sign of adenomyosis. It’s kind of like endometriosis inside my uterus (or endo inside my endo…geezus). I have a thick uterus lining, another symptom.

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My belly button was looking great, they said.

They said my new pain that started on Thursday could be a uterine infection or soreness from my operation. Or it could be something as simple as a UTI, which I’ve had before and know the symptoms. I won’t know whether it’s a UTI until tomorrow but as a precaution, they prescribed meds for that and not meds for a uterine infection. It’s been 24 hours and to be honest, I can’t tell whether they are doing anything. We’ll have to wait and see, I suppose.

The doctors disagreed whether inserting an IUD would help alleviate the adeno symptoms. One doctor said that my swollen uterus wouldn’t support the insertion at this time and the other doctor said it could help. I didn’t get it inserted.

A few years ago, I was diagnosed with tuberculosis and was given a 6-month treatment of antibiotics to heal from it. I’m not a doctor (obviously) but the symptoms I present sound like uterine tuberculosis as well.

Let’s just hope it’s not uterine cancer or something insane, right?

The aftermath so far: painful

So my day surgery turned into an overnight stay at the hospital due to severe pain, the inability to use some of my bodily functions and the nausea.

Dr. Guan and a female fellow surgeon (I can’t remember her name) handled me with precision. My surgery was scheduled for 7:30 a.m., but I didn’t actually make it into the OR until after 8. And I don’t even remember that part because as soon I signed the anesthesia consent form, it was lights out for me❗️

The doctors worked for at least three hours during the Da Vinci single incision endometriosis surgery, cutting away endometriosis implants around my uterus, ovaries and bowels.  My uterus itself was twice the size it should have been, according to Guan.

Apparently, I had quite a bit of endometrial-like tissue inside my uterus that caused the swelling, and they were unable to get it out. They assured us (fiance & sister) it would only cause problems during my period and that I’d no longer experience the horrific pain I experienced every day as a result of my endo.

I remember waking up in the recovery area with my cheerful, sweet (and handsome) nurse Tom, who I eventually nicknamed Tom Cruise.

After several doses of morphine, which did absolutely nothing for me, Tom got approval to use a fentanyl pain injection, another narcotic that did nada. I had experience with both, as I had used them for my first excision surgery and for my appendectomy last year. The pain did not subside. At this point my pain was bouncing around between a 7 and an 8 or between ☹️and a 😫.

Then Tom – God bless him – got me dilaudid (hydromorphone) and sure enough my pain eased up. I started cracking jokes about how I was feeling so little pain, I’d make it to my Olympic weightlifting class in the morning and snatch and deadlift a few hundred pounds here and there.img_2842
But by 5 p.m. shortly after they brought me back to the day surgery area, the pain came back with a vengeance and Tom was no longer my nurse. I couldn’t pee and my anxiety skyrocketed. My nurse gave me an anti-anxiety but no painkillers.

I started to cry. Did she not believe me?

That couldn’t have been it, because they asked me to stay the night to get the pain under control, which I wasn’t originally meant to do. Then came the Toradol, an anti-inflammatory med intended to treat pain. My pain went from 😫 to 😖. Not much relief there and I told her that, but she said that because I had taken an anti-anxiety pill, I couldn’t take a narcotic. 🤷🏽‍♀️

After they admitted me into the hospital, my new nurse JR tried to get approval for something stronger. We tried morphine. Again nothing.

By 7:30 p.m., I was in tears practically screaming in agony. Eventually, JR got approval for several painkillers, including dilaudid, from the fellow surgeon who also said she’d stop by in the morning to check in on me. That was definitely good to hear; I liked her.

I’ve been drinking so much apple juice, ginger ale and water. I don’t understand how I haven’t yet exploded because going to the bathroom is nearly impossible. It’s a task, it hurts and barely any liquid comes out of my body.

“That’s normal,” Nurse JR said. “Your body is still coming off the anesthesia and you had surgery on those delicate areas. Try not to push yourself.”

That’s easy, I thought to myself. Trying to pee is uncomfortable, so I’d rather not do it even if the urge is there.

About an hour ago (it’s about 5:30 a.m.), JR gave me more dilaudid after my pain shot up from a 😏 to a 😩.

He’s coming back in awhile to give me more Toradol and liquid Tylenol. Then the Oxy, which surprisingly and unfortunately does little for me.

Needless to say, working on pain management has been an unfortunate chore, one I haven’t been able to get right.

I asked JR if I’d be able to sleep in my own bed tonight. He said it all depended on how well I managed pain on pills like Oxy. It’s disheartening because I don’t know what to do. Why isn’t my body receptive to these crazy drugs? I wish the morphine would take care of everything.

Hopefully when this is all over, I’ll truly be pain free.