I’m working it out… as in, going through the required motions of the rest of my life as one would dutifully fulfil an obligatory notice period within an employment contract. In short, I am working like a donkey until I reach the end of the line (my death).
I am not fit enough to work: Endometriosis has crippled my daily life. Yet, I do it anyway because I have no choice; no control; no voice. I started a new job six weeks ago. It was a crazy ‘decision’ but therein lies the problem – there was no degree of choice. I had to accept the role because the hospital screwed up and dismissed my symptoms without investigating. I was pushed into this employment by my local Job Centre… with a screaming 7cm by 5cm cyst on my left ovary and a 1cm by 1.5 cm cyst on the other. I had been bleeding for six weeks at this point, passing clots the size of large brazil nuts at 20 to 90 minute intervals. The pain, of course, was equally intense – but my local hospital instructed that I toodle off home to rejoin the workforce like a healthy person.
I did… and my symptoms are unbearable.
The strain upon my physical and mental health is now immeasurable. A combination of commuting for three hours per day, sitting at a desk for extended periods and trekking across the country for meetings is nothing less than excruciating in my current condition. I cannot begin to describe the horrors I have suffered withn my own body. Each work day is torture: imagine your insides ripping and shredding, stinging and stabbing, bleeding and burning. I am taking pain killers every four hours and I cannot function properly any longer.
Yet, I still go to work. I go because no-one cares if I bleed all day and cry in agony. No-one cares that a worthless human being is still suffering and deteriorating. I have ended up in the emergency room yet again, have fought with the hospital over lack of treatment and now need an urgent MRI scan before a potential hysterectomy. Still, no-one with the power to help genuinely cares. It’s a nightmare.
I am in such pain but I cannot resign from my job. I would be ineligible for help from the state if I were to walk away from employment and I desperately need an income. People called me a “sponger” when I had no job and it weighs heavy in my fears for the future. I do not want to be ill and in need of financial help from the welfare system. I am already unwelcome in society… few welcome the worthless. Yet more shun those deemed to be a burden.
What can I do? My condition is growing worse each day; my health is deteriorating faster than ever and I am struggling at work. I am missing my deadlines and compelled to work endless overtime to catch up on my daily tasks. All the while, my insides are being eviscerated and all I feel is pain. All day, every day… even through painkillers.
I am trying to keep up appearances to the outside world, playing down my symptoms to my employer, family and friends. I keep up my social media feeds, still attend the odd social function and friends’ birthday dinners but all I feel throughout is pain and discomfort. I am overwhelmingly unwell, diminished and constantly exhausted, with a greater sense of loneliness and isolation. I hate having to bear this alone. I hate that I have no best friend nor lover to hug for reassurance and comfort. There is nobody to see me through the daily horror of my situation.
I live with my parents but I have to mask the depth of my pain to spare their ailing health. They’re not stupid and they have understood the gravity of what’s happening to my body: the concern in their eyes only adds to my burden. I feel grief for their grief, sorrow for their helplessness. I am as redundant as they feel. None of us can do anything to fix this so what’s the point in telling them how bad I feel?
My suffering is my cross to bear and I am at the end of the line. I want to die. I really, really want to pass away; peacefully and alone. I want to slip into the haven of freedom, where there is no suffering nor pain. I want to let go and get swept away into the vast expanse of nothingness that I imagine to be death. I am sick of suffering. I am sick of being sick. I am sick of my sickness being irrelevant to the medical world. I am so weary from living in pain and anguish. I just want to die.