From a nine year old girl struggling with periods no child should have to endure, to a twenty one year old woman undergoing six hours of surgery to save her organs, my journey with endometriosis has been one of pain, frustration, and learning to live in a body that has never quite played by the rules.
I want to make it clear, endometriosis does not only cause period-related symptoms — it is just one of the first warning signs everyone should be aware of. People with Endometriosis can be in pain any minute, any day.
The average age for a first period is between 12 and 15. Mine arrived Easter before I turned ten and from the very beginning was heavy. No nine year old should be told to double up on underwear because changing a sanitary pad every hour still is not enough to prevent leaking. I was a child, yet I already had to manage something that many adults struggle with. Growing up brought its own challenges. I developed breasts early, struggled to find clothes that fit me properly, and endured boys laughing at me in primary school. I remember leaving fourth class with my jumper tied around my waist because I had leaked through my school trousers yet again. By sixth class, I was having blood tests, ultrasounds and doctors’ appointments because something was clearly not right. At 13, I was put on the contraceptive pill to manage my periods. Even then, my mum continued to receive phone calls telling her I had been sick, had fainted, or was suffering from pain and blood loss. This was happening despite being on hormonal treatment. I can only imagine how much worse things might have been without it. In February of first year, I was rushed to hospital with suspected appendicitis. It turned out to be my first ovarian cyst. Looking back, it should have been another warning sign, especially alongside everything else I had experienced. But nothing came of it. When I was 14 I was struggling with the weight I had gained from the hormones and began restricting my food intake in an attempt to regain control over my body. Around this time, I began researching my symptoms and became convinced I had endometriosis. My thinking was simple: if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it’s probably not a pigeon. Between 13 and 18 I was on and off a total of five contraceptives, with no other treatments or investigations even suggested to me.
When I was just 18 years old and with the Leaving Cert only six weeks away, I was rushed to hospital again with “suspected appendicitis”. This time, surgery finally revealed the truth: I had stage four endometriosis, including two large endometriomas (endometriosis-related cysts) on my ovaries. One was so heavy that my ovary was beginning to twist.
This verbal diagnosis led to my referral through the healthcare system and eventually reached a specialist hospital. After eight months on the waiting list, I collapsed outside my accommodation, and attended its emergency department. An internal ultrasound revealed the extent of the disease, and the results shocked even the specialist. Known as end stage endometriosis, because it is stage four in both severity and location, my right ovary was tethered to my bowel. My left ovary was stuck in the Pouch of Douglas. My pelvis was frozen, meaning my organs were bound together by Endometriosis lesions and scar tissue. There were concerns about lesions affecting my sciatic nerve and bowel, and I was warned that I might need bowel resection, and potentially a temporary stoma bag. This was too severe of a case for this hospital so, naturally, I was sent up the ladder to the next.
After 14 months on the waitlist, I finally had my initial consultation, and in July 2026 I had my excision surgery, two years after my diagnosis. Surgery lasted hours, and what the surgeons found was even more frightening. There was a large empty cavity on the left side of my pelvis, while my uterus, ovaries, bladder, bowel and uterosacral ligaments had been pulled towards and tethered to the right pelvic wall. I was informed I also suffer from adenomyosis, a similar condition that remains within the confines of the uterus. Thick scar tissue and lesions had distorted the normal anatomy of my pelvis. My right ovary was badly mangled, but thankfully, it was salvaged. The most frightening discovery was what had happened to my right kidney. My ureter, the tube that carries urine from the kidney to the bladder, had become trapped and compressed against the pelvic wall by thick lesions and scar tissue. I was told that if we had waited just a few more weeks, the ureter could have become completely blocked, potentially causing my kidney to fail without obvious warning. My organs had been moved back towards where they should be, and good margins of the endometriosis had been excised. Despite the surgery, regrowth was already confirmed.
Endometriosis affects every single aspect of my life. Some days, I feel amazing and want to take on the world. Other ones, I am in so much pain that I cannot move, eat, or leave the house. I cancel plans, worry about letting my friends down, and constantly wonder whether I will be well enough to do the things I want to do tomorrow.
It took ten years to get my diagnosis. By then, the disease had caused extensive damage, and my kidney had been dangerously close to being compromised. I cannot help wondering what might have been different if someone had listened to me sooner. My story is not just about endometriosis. It is about what happens when girls grow up believing their pain is normal, when women have to fight to be taken seriously, and when symptoms are dismissed until the consequences become impossible to ignore. I am sharing this because awareness needs to mean more than a social media post or a ribbon in March. It needs to mean listening, investigating symptoms, and taking pain seriously.
If sharing my story means one girl is diagnosed sooner, one woman feels less alone, or one doctor takes someone’s pain more seriously, then at least something good can come from everything I have endured.
Because pain should never have to become this severe before someone finally listens.
