Hope is the thing with feathers…

Dickinson hope

T minus one day.  Shockingly nervous times.  I know it’s not an endometriosis cure but it’s as close as I’m going to get in my lifetime.

After my operation, I hope that:

  • I will not have to buy any maternity tights for my permanently swollen tum and have to face the ‘how far gone are you?’ from every shop assistant ever known to womankind;
  • Burning my stomach with a ratcheted-up electric heat pad in 30 degree summer heat is a thing of the past;
  • The first thing I reach for in the morning will be my other half, rather than co-codamol;
  • I can finally wear trousers, or indeed anything with a waistband, again and no longer be confined just to one loose dress and jogging bottoms with an elasticated waist.  All summer;
  • Going to the toilet will become a thoughtless necessity rather than a painful trauma;
  • I’ll be awake at night with excitement rather than balancing up how busy A&E would be right at that moment;
  • Dancing, going out and having fun will be a joy rather than sitting in the wallflower corner.  By wallflower corner I mean at home, in bed;
  • I can finally frickin exercise, like jostle my stomach, with things like this new yogging fad and not ache and bleed and cry and feel beyond help and weak;
  • I can go and say thank you to those that have been there for me rather than hibernate like a moody bloody bear;
  • My internet searches will be for shallow things like shoes and clothes rather than endometrial ablation and how to avoid a hysterectomy;
  • I can answer a ‘How are you?’ with a happy response, instead of ‘I want to cut open my stomach because I just can’t take the pain anymore’ kind of reply;
  • I can work without having to finish lessons early just so I can grab some painkillers/go to the toilet;
  • I will have more head space to be able to write and write and write;
  • That I have a life.  My life.

And many many more.  Here’s to Friday…

Butterfly Hope



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