So Lucky, Part One

Tell me again how lucky I am.

A few years ago, a co-worker told me that I was lucky not to have kids, since kids are such a pain in the ass. It came as quite a surprise (mostly to myself) when I didn't leap at her like a hyena on the last wounded gazelle on earth. That's her Christmas present from me for, oh, say, the next 300 years.

I guess I chose the pacifist route because, aside from all those pesky legal complications, I knew she didn't really mean to rip all the air out of my day in one fell swoop. She just didn't know.

Well, I should clarify. She knew I had Endo, and even knew that I am PS (probably sterile), but obviously she failed to appreciate the full craptacularity of it. Or maybe she was just working with a faulty definition of the word "lucky".

In any event, I'll live.

I'm just a little teensy weensy bit tired of being told how lucky I am. I mean, please. Run that one by me again??

With your permission, I'll recount some of the many times I've been told how lucky I am, the plethora of inconsiderate statements tossed casually in my direction, and the things I wish I'd said in response.

If anything sounds familiar, just join right in.

"Well, at least you can still have sex."

I had a pretty immediate response to that one. I was on my cell phone in a Wal*Mart when a male (of course) friend pointed out this as a bright side shortly before I was diagnosed with Endo. I yelled something along the lines of "Who cares if I can have SEX if I'm STERILE?!?", right smack in the middle of the greeting card aisle, causing several people to stare and shuffle away from me nervously.

They don't make a greeting card for that occasion.

Since then, I have made the discovery that no, I cannot necessarily still have sex. Sometimes it hurts during, sometimes it hurts for six hours the next day, but generally these days it hurts so much that I can't even make it to the "during" or "after" parts.

More on that later.

"You're too young for problems this serious." This, stunningly, was from a doctor.

"My God," I wanted to yell, "you're right! Why didn't anybody tell the Endometriosis this?"

"She's too young for hotflashes." This was said behind my back at work while I was in the middle of Lupron.

"Interesting theory," I should have said, "but my doctor begs to differ. Do you know something she does not? If so, please, share with the rest of the class; we're anxiously awaiting further pearls of wisdom from you, you swine."

"Aren't you glad you don't have kids?"

This was after I sat politely (read: with my teeth clenched so tightly, they almost crumbled like Lik-M-Aid dipping sticks) through a loved one's extended ramble about all the health problems caused by being pregnant and giving birth.

The back pain. The urinary frequency. The incontinence. The sexual difficulties. And on. And on. And on.

"No, Loved One, I'm not glad I don't have kids because, you see, I already have all of those problems, plus an unhealthy dose of screaming pain, and I don't have single thing to show for it, and you have a baby."

"You're lucky you don't have kids."

"No, you're lucky I don't have a wifflebat to thwomp you upside the head with. I might enjoy being baby-free if it weren't being shoved down my throat. This disease, these problems, they're not some lifestyle choice I'm making. It's not like I can't pick my next haircolor. This isn't like that at all."

This is my life.

How is it ever lucky to not have a choice?

"Well, but you have more freedom, and more time to yourself."

"This is totally true. I do have way more time to go to my many pointless doctors' appointments, and dropping out of school after surgery freed up a lot of time for me to pick up prescriptions, catch up on my sleep, black out from pain, and pee fifteen times a day."

I'm a virtual par-tay gal, lemme tell ya.

Truly, these are all really excellent trade-offs.

I'm a lucky girl.

Comments

[Bob]

I'm sure a lot of those people are insensitive clods. But what do you expect people to say? Maybe they are just trying to find a silver lining in your cloud of doom? Sorry Life dealt you a shit sandwich. Eat it or not, but shut the fuck up about it.

[akeeyu]

Gee, Bob, you're a charmer.

It's funny, but I don't remember seeking you out personally and forcing you to read this blog. Sorry the Internet dealt you something you didn't care to see. Read it or don't, but shut the fuck up about it.