A Good Word. "When a man's ways please the LORD, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him." (proverbs 16:7)
Endometriosis is a condition where tissue similar to the lining of the uterus (the endometrial stroma and glands, which should only be located inside the uterus) is found elsewhere in the body [1].
It is generally acknowledged that an estimated 10% of all women during their reproductive years (from the onset of menstruation to menopause) are affected by endometriosis [2]. This equates to 176 million women throughout the world, who have to deal with the symptoms of endometriosis during the prime years of their lives [3].
Common locations of endometriosis
Endometriosis lesions can be found anywhere in the pelvic cavity:
Endometriosis lesions*
Endometriosis lesions*
In addition, it can be found in:
But these locations are not so common. In even more rare cases, endometriosis has been found inside the vagina, inside the bladder, on the skin, in the lung, spine, and brain.
The most common symptom of endometriosis is pelvic pain.
The pain often correlates to the menstrual cycle, but a woman with endometriosis may also experience pain that doesn’t correlate to her cycle – this is what makes this disease/condition so unpredictable and frustrating.
For many women, the pain of endometriosis is so severe and debilitating that it impacts their lives in significant ways.
Endometriosis can also cause scar tissue and adhesions to develop that can distort a woman’s internal anatomy. In advanced stages, internal organs may fuse together, causing a condition known as a “frozen pelvis.” This is not common, but it does happen.
It is estimated that 30-40% of women with endometriosis may not be able to have children (if you suspect you suffer from infertility, please see our section on endometriosis and infertility).
If you, or someone you care about, has endometriosis, it is important to research the disease as much as possible. Many myths and misconceptions about endometriosis still persist, even in the medical literature.
For many women, management of this disease may be a long-term process. Therefore, it is important to educate yourself, take the time to find a good doctor, and consider joining a local support group.
http://endometriosis.org/endometriosis/
She moved deftly around her spacious kitchen like a graceful dancer. A small smile gracing her seasoned face. She was preparing tonight’s dinner. Although she lived alone she always cooked healthy servings. She never lacked company. Her children or grandchildren never failed to put in an attendance to her home. Some would stay over for several nights. She didn’t mind this; in fact she utterly adored it. It gave her a sense of purpose. It was rewarding to be able to feed and catch up on current events in the lives of her babies’.
She called them her round table discussions. There is something to be said about healthy food and good conversation; it’s rejuvenates the soul. She loved all her babies including their pet dogs and cats. They were a family. Family and faith was the foundation is stood on. Material things were fleeting.
“Hey Grandma,” The sound of her granddaughters’ voice made her pause. So begins the first round table discussion. She offered up a small prayer of guidance and continued to mead her sourdough home made bread. Behind her she heard her refrigerator door open and closing softly. But remained silence. When you lived as long as she had; you’re able to discern a person’s mood. Right now her grand was in a dour mood.
The octogenarian smiled knowingling; she began humming an old time tune under her breath, all the while kneading her dough. Veronica kissed her grandmother on the cheek. She snagged an apple from the fruit tray; and stood watching her grandmother perform her culinary magic in the kitchen.
“You’re making sourdough bread. Yummy, yummy my favorite.” Grandma looked up and smiled, still humming. Veronica watched her grandmother knead the dough into formation. Grandma made three short thick loaves; turning she placed them in the oven. She moved on to her next assignment of peeling white potatoes. She sat down with a heavy sigh. Veronica could hear the sound of her grandmother's bones popping in the spatial kitchen.
“I have got to lose me some weight. My knees aren’t like they use to be. I use to stand for hours on end with out feeling any type of aches.” Veronica silently seated herself next to her petite grandmother. Her granny was 125 pounds soaking and weight.
“You don’t need to lose any weight, granny. You’re perfect the way you are.” Granny eyed Veronica and smiled. Veronica silently joined her granny in peeling the white potatoes. The two working in comfortable silence. Veronica tilted her head, sighing loudly. Grandma lifted one eye brow but remained silent. It wasn’t long before Veronica finally spoke.
Swallowing hard Veronica raked a hand through her hair in frustration. “Grandma, I have been feeling funny lately. I can not describe how I feel exactly.” She said absently. “I wake up in the morning with this feeling and lie down at night with this feeling.” Her large doe eyes filled with tears. “I feel nasty on the inside.”
Grandma’s heart stilled for several seconds. Veronica’s choice words were forming many scenarios in her mind. Experience taught her to never jump to conclusions. Patience was not born or inherited. It was a disciplined act, one must work at it. So she waited and was soon rewarded for her patience.
Veronica stirred, pushing at the many micro braids. She closed her eyes trying to formulate the words in her heart. Tears began coursing down her cheeks.
“I need help. I can not think straight. It is a chore for me to get up in the morning. Of late I have been asking why I am here. What is the purpose of my existence? I feel nasty on the inside.” Veronica shook her head pointing at her heart.
Grandma continued to hum softly. “Something is out of order, little angel of the field,” Grandma never looked up. She continued peeling the layers off the potatoes.
Veronica rested her forehead on the table. “I know. I feel there is something I should be doing, but I don’t know what. It is as if life is passing me by.” She closed her eyes and swallowed. She felt lost and confused. “Grandma, I am 29 years old. I had--have so many goals and it seems that none of them has come to fruition. The more I try the more, I get knocked down. It is too much.”
“You see human beings are design rather uniquely and if something on the inside is out of order it throws us all off track.” Grandma arrested Veronica’s eyes. “You got to get to root cause of the matter. That requires dealing with our situations.” Grandma paused. “The good and the bad ones,” The potatoes were now peeled. Grandma began to cut them up into small chunks.
“I don’t feel like I am good enough, granny. I want this nasty feeling to go away. It clings to me like a spiders clings to its web. What do I do?”
Veronica leaned in close anxious to hear her granny’s sage advice. Her grandmother flashed a smile at her. “We have layers in our lives that need peeling away. Hurt, rejections fear and doubts make for a nasty recipe. Nasty. There is a root to everything. We need to get to it. The good water it. The bad. Get rid of it.” Veronica averted her eyes some how feeling chastised. She wasn’t ready to deal with her issue. It was too painful. She was tired of the nastiness. She wanted to feel like she belonged. She wanted to live not exist. In her mind she knew her granny was right. It was her heart that was rebelling as she’d been hurt too many times.
“It is a nasty feeling being weighted down by negative things. You know what the sad thing about it is?” Grandma scoffed, hitting the table hard with one hand. “We don’t have to keep that nasty feeling. Baby, happiness is a choice we make. You just have to make hot pursuit. Go after it.” Grandma began to pick up speed as peeled the potatoes. “If you want something bad enough you go after it. No pain no gain. Failure is nasty. Doubt is nasty. Confusion is nasty. All those layers must be peeled away. No one and nothing has the power to make you feel…nasty.” Her grandmother smiled stood up placing the potato chunks into the boiling water.
“I have been making meals for many years now. I know the process each meal goes through. If I deviate from the ingredients, I know the outcome will be different. Creation takes a plan and processing. The process is well worth the end results.” She went to the oven and pulled out the sourdough bread.” The three loaves where perfectly golden brown, the smell aromatic.
“You’re feeling the heat now Veronica. You have the ingredients to be successful. Faith and family. Prepare your master piece. If it is ruined try it again, until it comes out just right.”
Veronica stood up and hugged her granny. “Thank you, grandma. I know what you’re telling me. I am sorry, I can’t stay for dinner I have something-- I need to get started on.” She broke off a huge chunk of sourdough bread, smiling at her granny she turned and left.”
“I have a feeling everything is going to be all right.” Granny started humming again. “Hey, grandma.” The voice sounded weak. She didn’t turn around. It was her grandson Oscar. From the sound of things, he was in a bad way. She smiled offering up a prayer of thanksgiving. It was good to be needed.
Copyright © 2004
The information on this page may not be reproduced or republished on another webpage or website.
Art work is courtesy of WAK
http://www.wak-art.com
DuEwa Frazier: Her first two names, mean Black Beauty-The One In Whom the Sun Rises in the African, Swahili language. Although raised in St. Louis, Missouri, her life didn't begin there! Born in Brooklyn, New York on a hot, August morning, to educator/artist/activist parents, in the same year poet and playwright Ntozake Shange launched the acclaimed "For Colored Girls" play- DuEwa seemed destined to take part in the rich tradition of arts and pride from her community and share her creative spirit with others.
Catamenial pneumothorax is an extremely rare condition that affects women. Pneumothorax is the medical term for a collapsed lung, a condition in which air or gas is trapped in the space surrounding the lungs causing the lungs to collapse. Women with catamenial pneumothorax have recurrent episodes of pneumothorax that occur within 72 hours before or after the start of menstruation.
Need a summer read? Love Found Me by Vanessa Richardson, will certainly inspire if not entertain you! Order your copies today. www.gshpublishing.com or amazon.com!I absolutely adore Maya Angelou. Words can not describe how much so. I remember years ago watching an episode of Showtime at the Apollo-- a show that show cased up-and-coming artists. There was a little girl around my age (ten) at the time. She was performing what I recall at the time, this soul stirring poem. I sat there glued to the television; thirsting for me. Inside I was screaming..." I want to do that. I want to say that poem."
The problem was; I was painfully shy as a child. I had much to say, but very much afraid to say it aloud. Besides, who'd want to listen to me anyways? The mind is a funny thing is it not? To succeed or fail--it takes a made up mind.
I vividly recall something within me stirring to life. It was to be on television, with the hopes of my friends watching me, or to even become famous. It was those words, penetrating in my ten-year-old heart. "Still I Rise. Still I Rise." The little girl's performance was mesmerizing. Now, several years later, it is that, I've never forgotten, that little girl; nor this wonderful poem "Still I Rise", written by Maya Angelou. My mind was made up! I would one day perform this piece, and I did! Oh, the process was not easy, it took bumps in the road, and yep, you've guessed it! A made up mind. :)
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL OUR PHENOMENAL WOMEN! 
rapy for me after the death of my first husband. When I began writing, it brought me healing, and God spoke to me and told me that just as my writing had been a source of healing for me, He would use my pen to do the same for others. So my stories, although they are fiction to me, they are nonfiction to someone else. The fictitious situations that I write about in my story are God-inspired. So whereas they aren't my own reality, they are someone's reality, and in spite of the entertainment value, the books serve their purpose to those who read them. Knowing that my books bless people is the greatest reward ever.