I have a condition
called endometriosis, which means I have a very painful cycle. There’s a lot of
theories on how endometriosis works, but here’s the real story.
Instead of a uterus, I
have a badger.
I figure what happened
is that, when God was making me, it was a Friday afternoon and he was tired and
off his game, and instead of grabbing a uterus from the uterus box, he grabbed
a badger from the badger box.
(Usually I hypothesize
that God is a woman, but no woman would have a. made that mistake, and b.
failed to rectify it.)
The badger, which
we’ll call Wocky (short for Jabberwocky, which is probably the more accurate
description) lies dormant, hibernating, for most of the month.
Mid-month,
however, he reaches one long, clawed arm up towards one ovary or the other and
squeezes with his scratchy talons. That’s always fun.
A few days before the
end of my cycle, Wocky starts to wake up. And Wocky is ravenous. Wocky wants
chocolate…and salt. And chocolate salt. And salt on top of his chocolate salt.
And then fat. Wocky has wired puppet strings to my brain that allow him to
override my self-control, and I will find myself standing in the kitchen at 2am
with a half-eaten box of baker’s chocolate and an empty jar of olive tapenade.
He also has control
over my anger reflex. When people are rude or stupid, he gets rrrreally mad,
and where I might usually try to be tactful or avoid a fight, Wocky gets right
in there and works me like a Rock’em Sock’em Robot. (Which sometimes, I gotta
admit, is a bit of a joyful release, after how many times in a day I usually
bite my tongue.)
At the end of my
cycle, Wocky loses his mind and starts clawing at my insides. For 4-7 days, it
is literally as if an angry, rabid badger is biting, clawing, and gnawing on my
abdomen, my lower back, and all my internal organs. I get dizzy and sick, and
nauseated, and weak, and I could sleep for days. Probably because those
internal organs are kind of essential and best left unchewed.
When you try to talk
to me during Wocky’s week, I can barely hear you over the constant snarling and
badger ravaging that’s happening in my belly. When you ask me why I haven’t
walked to the corner store, it seems impossible to explain how angry Wocky will
be with the motion and how he will pull on nerve endings that make even my knees
ache. If I'm weepy, it's from experiencing endless days and nights of indescribable pain. When you look at me funny for eating crackers with pickled eggplant and
Dijon mustard, you clearly do not understand that I am desperately attempting
to assuage a very angry, vengeful woodland monster.
And if you’re one of
those lucky women who was given a proper uterus at birth, and you’ve never
experienced a badger in your belly, I just want you to know that I may love you,
but I also hate you.
World, meet Wocky.
Wocky needs to chill!
ReplyDeleteThough I don't have endometriosis, I can certainly relate to the cravings and the irrational anger. (The irrational anger lasted pretty much constantly through both my pregnancies actually. It's something I like to affectionately call "pregnancy rage". )
I love the drawings. Keep drawing :)
The 'pregnancy rage' concept makes sense to me, Lara, since everything else about endometriosis is a lot like labour. I don't actually know if the cravings and anger stem from the endo itself, or just my lovely brand of women hormones.
DeleteGlad you're loving the drawings! I think Wocky turned out perfect. (The drawings, not the S.O.B. in my belly.)