Endometri-what?!
The day has come. It is time for me to see my new gynecologist to get things checked out. I’ve prepared for my appointment by taking time to write out allll of my symptoms. I wrote down even symptoms that I didn’t think are related to endometriosis because one thing I have learned up to this point is this disease affects the entire body. So I wrote away. I also reflected on when these symptoms presented for the first time, their severity, and frequency. I wrote this down as well. In addition, I reviewed articles on enofound.org that discuss what to look for in a gynecologist.
I arrive at my appointment with a host of emotions. Excited that I will be able to engage in a conversation with a gynecologist to discuss my concerns yet anxious that they will not be received and validated. I also question myself, “if this is not endometriosis, what could it be?” Plus, I’m thinking about COVID and how I originally planned to wait out seeing a doctor until things calmed down but here I am sitting in a waiting room. I’m swimming in all of my thoughts when my name is called. Here we go.
The nurse checks my vitals and begins asking screening questions. She asks me if I’m in pain and what symptoms I have. I giggle and say“ Yes, I actually wrote out a list”. We share a laugh and she assures me it is great I have them documented. I knew I wasn’t crazy to write all twenty or so of them down but it was still affirming for her to say that. To keep it simple for her though I tell her I have constant pelvic pain.
Next, I’m shown to the exam room where I change into a gown and prepare for the doctor. I leave my list of symptoms on the workstation in the room. The doctor enters and...she’s Black! What a pleasant surprise. I feel an instant sigh of relief, thinking I won’t have to worry about protecting myself from racial biases or medical racism. She’s kind and listens to all of my concerns while occasionally asking follow up questions to explore more. She completes a pap smear and then asks if any of the gynecologists I’ve seen performed an ultrasound on me. I respond no and she tells me she’d like to do one right now if it’s okay with me. I’m surprised she wants to do it on the spot but I agree. Now, I’m expecting for her to rub some jelly on my stomach but she precedes to grab a tool I have never seen before. I realize we’re doing a different type of ultrasound then what I have in mind. A transvaginal ultrasound.
She goes in and within seconds informs me she found a mass, a large one. I’m directed to look at the monitor so I too can see. I’m shocked. I knew things weren’t right but I wasn’t expecting to hear something was growing inside of me. She explains that it is on my right ovary and likely an endometrioma (a type of cyst people with endometriosis can get) but wants to be sure it is not cancerous. She answers all of my questions and refers me to radiology to get formal ultrasounds and orders some labs to be done to determine the nature of the mass.
We discuss treatment options. She explains that if it is indeed an endometrioma as she suspects, the options I have are to take a medication to shrink it, get surgery to have it removed, or shrink it with medication then have it removed. She’s compassionate during this discussion and assures me whatever is decided will be my decision and that decision does not need to be made now. We set up a follow up appointment to review my results and further discuss treatment options.
Despite the findings from my appointment, I feel good. I’m relieved. I’m grateful to have met with a doctor who saw me and listened. Yes, I have yet to get the result that it is not cancerous but because my doctor does not believe it is I don’t believe it is either. I feel validated that after all of these years my collection of symptoms have a name. I now feel closer to being healed and feeling better. To be honest, another emotion that peeks through is frustration. I’m frustrated that the other doctors that I have spoken to over the years about my symptoms have minimized them and never thought to explore in the way this doctor did. To preserve my spirit I am choosing to release the “ woulda, coulda, shoulda” and replace it with gratitude for her.