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When Good News is Hard to Hear

As I groggily woke from surgery, I immediately wanted the answers I couldn't get before. How many incisions were made in my abdomen? How much endometriosis did the doctor find? When the nurse told me I had one incision and the surgery was only 45 minutes instead of the expected 90 minutes, my heart broke. I knew in that minute that I didn't have endometriosis. That the massive amounts of blood I lost each month, the pain each time I had intercourse, the unexplainable fatigue and stomach issues were not the result of a common disease that could be temporarily fixed with surgery every few years.

Today at my post-op, my doctor assured me that not having endometriosis is a good thing. I just have heavy periods like my previous doctors said and I have some psychological issues with sex that could be cured with mental and physical therapy. Take a new birth control, try some at home exercises, and come back in six months.

I should be happy, right? But I am not, I am still devastated.

Having a treatable disease like endometriosis means that there are set steps you can take to alleviate symptoms. Having, yet another, mental disorder means I have to try multiple unset steps that might or might not help. More uncertainty and more things I cannot control.

But maybe that was the point? Maybe God is telling me that I cannot control everything I need to get my mental health in order before I spent another $800 to have surgery. My next step is to find an online counselor that doesn't cost an arm and a leg. That will help, right?

Over and out,
The Girl with IBS

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