My experience of living with diaphragmatic endometriosis.

Ah, the diaphragm-  a sheet of skeletal muscle only a quarter of an inch thick and located beneath the lungs. It plays a crucial role in facilitating the lungs to inhale and exhale (aka breathing), and in separating the thoracic cavity (containing the heart and lungs) from the abdominal cavity (containing your stomach, liver etc).

diaphragm diagram

Who knew such a tiny organ could produce such armageddon like pain!

The diaphragm is a greatly under appreciated organ in my experience- like most people I’d never given mine a second thought until it was attacked by endometriosis and became extremely pissed off. From that point my diaphragm started to control my life, and let to much confusion, misdiagnoses, and experimenting with alternative therapies before we worked out what was wrong!

I was officially diagnosed with diaphragmatic endometriosis (sometimes interchangeably known as ‘thoracic endometriosis’) during my first laparoscopy in 2014. Since my entire endometriosis diagnosis came as a bit of a shock, this particular piece of information didn’t stand out as particularly alarming.  At that moment I did not know (nor was I informed- thanks doc) that endometriosis in this region is extremely rare , strongly associated with severe pelvic disease, and in extreme cases may cause catamenial pneumothorax- where a lung collapses around the time of menstruation! I definitely think I’d have requested follow up sooner if I’d know this!

Conducting my own research on this topic post-surgery was a real eye opener, a massive EUREKA! moment in fact. Did you know, for example, that the shoulder/back/neck pain caused by diaphramatic endo is actually referred pain caused by irritation of the phrenic nerve? Or that the majority of cases affect the right side of the diaphram rather than the left, due to a process called embryonic patterning? Finding accurate and detailed information was not easy though, even my beloved ‘Endometriosis For Dummies’ book revealed zilch. The reading I did manage to do somewhat perpetuated my feeling of loneliness at first, as I did not meet anyone else in my support group or online for quite some time who also suffered in this way. And for me, my diaphragmatic symptoms made up a significant amount of my pain.

What was fascinating though was how many women have approached me interested in this topic, and with lots of their questions and concerns relating to it. Many suggested they could not find many personal accounts online or research to compare their own symptoms too, and suggested that many doctors had been dismissive of their concerns because the condition is rare. Because of this, I’ve decided to write this post to address the most frequent questions that I am asked, and to tell my own story in greater detail. I hope you find this helpful! 🙂

How was your diaphragmatic endometriosis diagnosed, and what exactly was found?

As mentioned above, I was diagnosed during a laparoscopic surgery in 2014. This surgery was performed by a general gynecologist not an endometriosis specialist. Two nodules, a small amount of scarring, and an endometrioma (Yes! You read that right! An endometrioma!) were found on the right side of my diaphragm. I had previously had a number of ultrasound and MRI scans on my chest area which had (very frustratingly) come back clear.

Some of the endometriosis nodules found on my diaphragm.

Some of the endometriosis nodules found on my diaphragm.

What symptoms do you experience as a result of your diaphragmatic endometriosis?

I initially began to experience right shoulder tip pain in 2012. This was a sharp sensation comparable to the oh so miserable gas pains experienced after a laparoscopy. This pain made moving my right arm very difficult.

Over time the pain spread into my back, neck, and arm, and became a daily feature of my life. I have marked the precise locations on the diagram below. Much of this pain felt muscular to me, like a deep burning pain after working out too hard. I actually began to have frequent massages (FYI- they didn’t help my pain, just to empty my bank account) as I was convinced I had just pulled a muscle in my shoulder at the gym.

Where I experience pain from my diaphragmatic endometriosis.

Where I experience pain from my diaphragmatic endometriosis.

You know when you have a bad bruise on your skin and you press it with your finger- the whole right hand side of my back felt like this to the touch. My GP (mis)diagnosed me with Repetitive Strain Injury (RSI) and gave me some medication for this (which again, didn’t help). When my symptoms flared up, breathing would sometimes become very difficult and something I would have to concentrate on. I also found it impossible to sleep lying down and had to prop myself up with a number of pillows or sleep on the sofa sitting up.

I cannot over-empahise how agonising diaphragmatic endometriosis has been for me. It has definitely been the worst pain I have EVER experienced. During the summer of 2013 it flared up so badly that I had to spend 3 weeks in bed as I was literally unable to move my arm, back or neck without almost passing out from pain. It was a really frightening time. As an interesting anecdotal side note, the other women I have met with this have said the same thing about how extreme the pain is, so I don’t think this is one of those cases of me being weird!

What impact has endometriosis on the diaphragm had on your quality of life?

To be completely honest, a massive and catastrophic impact. Having your right arm incapacitated on regular but random intervals made having a ‘normal’ life very challenging . Severe flare ups would often last for several weeks at a time and meant that I couldn’t drive to the office, work on my PhD on my computer, cook for myself, exercise, or socialise etc.  It was around this time I started to become isolated and depression took a strong hold of me, one that still has not let go.

What treatments have you used, and how effective were they?

I found that my diaphragmatic symptoms, as with my other general endometriosis symptoms, respond well to anti-inflammatory medication and to heat.  Not well enough to use drive or exercise, but enough to stop me from passing out at least.  It’s the small victories we must celebrate in such hard times. Taking the combined contraceptive pill over the last year prevented any major flare ups and been a total lifesaver in many respects, but I would still get mild shoulder and back pain on some occasions.

Fairly sure this is my future, much heat pad abuse is going on daily.

Fairly sure this is my future, much heat pad abuse is going on.

In my most recent surgery I had the endometriosis excised from my diaphragm! It was pretty exciting for me, as I wasn’t sure if they were going to be able to remove it, as they had warned me this may have to happen in a separate surgery at a later date. I’m hoping this is going to solve my problems in this area, but will have to report back in a couple of months time. So far so good though, no symptoms to report 🙂

My doctor/consultant/surgeon won’t take my concerns about this seriously, what should I do?

I’d print out and take this paper with you, and insist on them taking your concerns seriously. Or ask for a referral to an endometriosis specialist– I’d like to hope they’d at least entertain the idea that endo can hijack the diaphragm  (please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong). It is possible for surgeons to check your diaphragm during a laparoscopy if you do have concerns. You may have to ask though as not all doctors routinely check this area.

Do you have any further information about diaphragmatic endometriosis that you have found useful?

I found these two endopaedia articles (see here and here) to be an informative and accessible starting point.

So that is my story so far with diaphragmatic endometriosis. I’m frustrated that this problem, yet again, took years to sort out and involved misdiagnosis, but I am happy that I have now had the surgery that will (hopefully) solve the problem. Meeting other people with the condition, and speaking to other women about their concerns, has been so helpful in my recovery process and has taught me so much more than reading. Most of all, I have certainly come to love my diaphragm and appreciate what it does for me 🙂

Please do let me know your thoughts or if you have any other specific questions. Always interested to hear from anyone else who suffers with diaphragmatic and/or thoracic endometriosis too, do my symptoms match your own?

Love,
Claire
xx

It’s two days until my excision surgery- scared much?!

It’s just two days to go until my excision surgery at UCLH! I’m hopeful that the surgery is going to give me some relief and restore some quality of life. Unfortunately this means that tomorrow is the dreaded bowel prep day *sob*.  Having undertaken one before I know what a miserable experience it is.

bowel prep
There are so many conflicting thoughts and emotions rushing through my head at the moment, and everything just feels a bit difficult. It really isn’t easy to be an endo warrior. I never knew it was possible for my brain to be so busy. It is constantly like: Will this work? How much will it hurt? Will they tell me I’ll never have a child? I don’t want to die! I’m not going to die-don’t be stupid! What if the anesthetic doesn’t work? What if they bowel prep doesn’t work? What if you end up with a colostomy? Hey, it’s all worth it in the end if I start feeling better! But what IF I don’t feel better? And so on…

Despite all this ruminating I’m actually feeling quite numb overall and just want to get this whole ordeal over with. It seems that the terror/ excitement / anticipation are all counterbalancing each other.

I’ve also made the big/stupid/brave decision to take some time out of my PhD to get my head and body back into working order again. I won’t return to the office until January, and I am really grateful that I have this opportunity to just relax and focus on myself for once. No more pretending everything is OK. I know I’m lucky to be able to take a break, as this isn’t an option for so many people living with chronic illnesses who desperately need it.

So, I’m off now, but plan to post an update about my surgery experience as soon as I am well enough. Do take care of yourselves in the meantime! 🙂

Love,
Claire
xx

Choosing surgery: Shooting for success, surrendering to sacrifice.

I am now booked in to have my excision surgery at the end of August at UCLH. The plan is to remove as much as my endometriosis as possible (from my bowel, diaphragm, peritoneum, pouch of douglas, and ovaries), drain my endometrioma, and unstick my uterus and ovary from my abdomen wall. Regular readers of this blog will know that this surgery has been very hard fought for, so I really hope that it is a success and that it enhances my quality of life.

Somewhere between my pre-op appointments and signing doom-filled consent forms, I started to think about just how much pain, sacrifice and trauma we women with endometriosis have to go through for the mere possibility of feeling any better. It seems so unfair and is little understood by those around us. I mean, until we became chronically ill we were used to the following equations when it comes to illness right?:

illness + medication= cured

illness+time= cured

illness+surgery=cured

But this is so different when you have endometriosis, because there is no cure and no appealing treatment options. And, at times I feared, no happily ever after. But I REALLY want happily ever after, so following much thought I decided that I am willing to take risks and fight for that ending. But making these decisions (i.e. to have surgery or a new hormone treatment) it isn’t easy and the path is riddled with more danger, pain, and uncertainty than I feel is really fair to ask of us.

recovery

My experience with a chronic illness.

For me, having major surgery means accepting the following things, which seem really overwhelming and scary:

In order to get better, I have to accept that things will be much worse first.

I’ve had one laparoscopy before, but that was a minor procedure whereas this surgery is classified as a major one because of the amount of work being done internally. As a result I face a greater amount of pain and a longer recovery period, before I can start reaping any benefits to my life. I’m also not great at sitting about and resting, so I imagine I will spend my sick leave worrying myself half to death. So that’ll be fun. After my surgery I’m going to have a Zoladex injection too which I’ve heard mixed reviews about.

I am going to have to take a four month break from my PhD. I will not be paid during this time.

While work have generally been supportive, I do think that having yet another break from my PhD does me no favors career wise. This is so frustrating when I have always worked so hard and have big aspirations. I have also been financially independent my whole adult life, so suddenly having to choose between having surgery and having money has been such a difficult decision to make. This decision was make harder by the fact that…

I will be physically, emotionally, and financially reliant on my husband and parents during my recovery.

Guilt doesn’t even begin to describe how this makes me feel. I can (just about) cope with endometriosis negatively impacting upon my life, but I have always tried to shelter the people I love from its grasp. I hate the idea of having to rely on my husband for money, to ask when I need things. And I hate that he and my parents will be having to go without because of me.

Hopefully this will not be the case.

Hopefully this will not be the case.

I have limited control over the outcomes of my surgery.

I am going into this surgery for of hope that it will help improve my life, but I know that this is not guaranteed. With any surgery there are risks and potential complications. My former surgeon actually advised me against having any further endometriosis surgeries because of these, she said: ”The risks aren’t worth it for a disease which isn’t life threatening.’‘ She clearly has never had to live with a chronic illness. In my case the amount of bowel work that will be done means that I may end up with a temporary colostomy bag :S I don’t look forward to this and am hoping and praying that it won’t happen, but sadly it is not an outcome I can control.

I have limited ability to plan for my future, both in the short and long term.

While all this is going on, it’s just impossible to make plans. Not that stops people asking: ”When will you be back at work? When will you finish your PhD? When are you getting a job? When do you want to move house? When shall we have a baby?” I just don’t know right now, and I find that hard as I’ve always been a natural planner who is sure of their next step.

I don’t want to face any of these things, but I will do anything to try and feel better. I know my life can be so much more than it is right now, and I know that I can be brave and get through this somehow. It makes me so angry that I and all you other wonderful women have to go through these repeated surgeries and hormone treatments in the hope of some relief. I don’t think healthcare professionals or employers understand the massive impact that these things have on our personal and emotional lives. But all we can do is have hope, and be brave, and keep believing that things can be better for us.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about any sacrifices you’ve made to have treatments for your endometriosis or chronic illness. Or how you get through the difficult times pre/post surgery.

Love.
Claire
xxx