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I was 15 years old and I was fit two when I had my first period. It was painful. When I spoke to my mother, she gave me pain medicine and told me that it was normal. that I was just becoming a woman.
Every month now, it was the same history of menstruation accompanied by a lot of pain. The pain was such that I felt paralyzed to the point of missing lessons.
My father transferred me to a day school closer to home, fearing I would not like school. He just did not understand why I would miss clbades.
But moving to another school did not work: I missed going to school for about seven days during my period.
The pain that accompanied menstruation was so intense – it penetrated my bones. I could feel it in my legs. I could hardly walk.
Dad then transferred me to a boarding school away from home hoping that the distance would make me "love school and be present at every lesson".
Nothing has changed. Every month, I suffered from excruciating pain that did not allow me to do much – let alone concentrate in the clbadroom.
I finished high school and went to university. There, friends told me that the pain would disappear over time. It was said (even by some women in my family) that the pain would almost be gone after my first baby.
At one point, I thought that the pain I felt could not be normal. I started going to the hospital. I've knocked on almost every door of Nairobi's major public and private hospitals.
There are doctors who have treated me for a urinary tract infection and those who thought that getting pregnant would put an end to my pain.
The pain started to wreak havoc on me mentally and it happened to me to get treated for depression.
The doctors did not diagnose the problem properly and therefore, I was treated for diseases that I did not have. As it happened, my condition has deteriorated.
To empty my bowels and to urinate became painful. The pain has invaded my body from the pelvis down to the bottom.
After nearly 10 years of misdiagnosis and flasks on every vial of pain medication, anti-inflammatories and antibiotics, everything was shattered in 2015 when I fainted on the streets of Nairobi.
I woke up at the Aga Khan University Hospital. The doctor treating my case referred me to a gynecologist who, according to him, would give me a correct diagnosis.
The gynecologist did some tests, including laparoscopic surgery.
"You have endometriosis," said the doctor. He then explained that I had endometriosis in stage four (I think of stage four cancer): the worst kind of endometriosis.
At the time, I was in a stable relationship. We lived together – almost like husband and wife.
When my boyfriend learned the diagnosis and learned that the disease did not have a cure and that it could make me sterile, he wanted to go out. Our relationship is over.
I was given menopausal medications so that I stopped having my period. But that did not work.
I still had so badly. I was constantly tired. The medications I was taking made me sicker. And it affected me psychologically. I have tried to kill myself three times.
One of these times, I swallowed a badtail of drugs. I have survived. The most keenest attempt in my mind is the moment when I jumped on a matatu towards Athi River.
I was a mental wreck. I did not know why I was going where I was going. I remember going down to a place I did not know. I wanted to cross the road while an approaching car was near to be able to crush me. The car missed me by whiskers.
I remember someone who had insulted me to be irresponsible. I started crying. Someone from a nearby construction site took notice and approached me.
They asked me what was wrong with me. They took me to a priest. In the evening the priest called my mother and it was at that time that I explained what had happened.
Endometriosis also cost me four jobs. I lost a job in 2013. In 2014, I lost two jobs for which I had applied successfully. And in 2015, I resigned (and I traveled in the country to live with my mother) from a job I had held since 2014 because I often fell ill and could not play as I wanted.
Life was rather dark. Once, while doing online research on endo, I came across the Kenya Endometriosis Foundation. I joined the group.
For the first time, I was surrounded by women who could tell what I was going through. My morale has been boosted.
I ended up coming back to Nairobi and going back to the hospital. I have undergone four surgeries. The last surgery revealed that the disease had spread to my ovaries, my intestines, my bladder, my diaphragm and many other places in the pelvic cavity.
It was at that time that I decided to fight the disease with all the fibers of my body. I went online and spoke to doctors from India, Dubai, Zimbabwe and other countries who could help me.
I was particularly interested in a procedure called "excision" that I came across on the Internet. This is a surgical procedure that was only available abroad and was much more successful than any other mode of treatment for endometriosis.
Finally, in early 2018, I met a doctor in Romania who was working in an institution dedicated to endometriosis. He said that I could travel to get him to do the procedure.
The only obstacle was that I needed a lot of money for the plane ticket and the treatment, and that my insurance could not take it into account.
I took my savings and got a loan of 800,000 shillings. I went to Romania in May 2018. The doctor practiced excision (removal of endometriosis) in my pelvic area. I went back to my next appointment last October. This time, the excision was made of my diaphragm – just below my lungs.
It's been five months and I do not hurt.
My doctor warned me that this could happen in about 10 years. I hope not.
Related Topics
CrampsEndometriosisLinda Nyadero
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