Is This The Reason Why Endometriosis Treatments Are So Ineffective?

We’re heading towards Endometriosis Awareness Week, and my original plan for this post was a ‘listicle’ outlining some of the prevailing myths around this debilitating illness.  The first ‘myth’ I was planning to bust was to be what I perceived as confusion surrounding the diagnostic tools that are currently in use.  I was constantly hearing from other sufferers that the only definitive way to diagnosed this illness was via laprascopic surgery.  Nonetheless, my diagnosis was first floated after an abdominal ultrasound (the type used to view a foetus) and every last one of my adhesions was clearly visible on my MRI.  In fact, the MRI showed more than the surgeons had been able to see during my various procedures.

I began to wonder if this was due to some kind of cultural disparity between the United Kingdom and the United Sates.  It does take an age to get diagnosed in both countries but British women fair a little better, waiting, on average, eight years for the condition to be spotted in comparison to the twelve years that American women face.  I believed that maybe the UK was simply more likely to use imaging tools, initially; moving on to surgery if the symptoms persisted despite the scans coming back clear.  While researching the reason for what I believed was a state of wildly differing diagnostic methods, I stumbled upon a medical paper (The Endometriosis Syndromes: a clinical classification in the presence of etiological confusion and therapeutic anarchy), written in 2003, by Professor Ray Garry.  Reading this paper I came to understand why those different approaches exist. Continue reading “Is This The Reason Why Endometriosis Treatments Are So Ineffective?”

What I Lost In The Fire

There are two exhibitions coming up that I really want to see.  Both of them are in London museums, and are easily reachable by public transport.  The logistics of planning such an innocuous day out should be straightforward: it’s currently more akin to planning an overseas trip for ten people who barely know each other.  Going on the weekend will guarantee me a chaperone, but it will also increase, tenfold, the number of moving obstacles that my dystaxia will have to deal with.  Choosing a quiet midweek slot will reduce the physical exertion (movements won’t have to be so controlled: more places to sit and rest) but I’ll be less likely to secure the company of someone who can help me if, or when, my body starts to shut down.  I’ve finally realised that this is my new reality.  Denial has turned to grief. Continue reading “What I Lost In The Fire”