I hate endo...it sucks donkey butt.

I've spent the weekend in a place I'd like to call endo hell. It sucked. And, my mil is rather insensitive. So, that was lovely. Let's just say, the moaning from the bathroom on Friday night woke up the hubs, who thought I was dying. Death would have been a nice relief actually. A possible tmi warning, but here's the story: at 4am Saturday morning, I woke up drenched in sweat and in pain in the dirty ute. So, I got up to take a 800mg ibuprofen, which doesn't really do much, but I was hoping it would give me enough relief to get back to sleep. When I laid back down, I must have twisted in a way that my jacked up organs didn't like and they let me know it. For fear of waking my hubs up, I stumbled back into the bathroom and sat on the pot for the next hour, waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in. As I waited, I apparently was under so much stress and in so much pain that my arms (and rest of my body) were covered in sweat. It was horrible. I was apparently moaning and screaming because the hubs woke up to make sure I wasn't dying. So, that was nice of him. When I was finally able to stand up, I realized that my leg had fallen asleep. Great. So, I drug my leg behind me and crawled back into bed where I semi-slept with a heating pad until 7am. The hubs talked me into calling the doc on call and I'm so glad I did. It was my own doc and he felt horrible. I hate his nursing staff, but he is amazing. He said there was no reason for my pain to keep an entire family awake at night. So, he called in a pain med and I was in heaven all day yesterday. It was such a wonderful relief. He gave me enough to get me through until my surgery at the end of the month and I am so grateful for that. Being in that much pain two weeks out of the month isn't what I consider fun. As for the mil, we went to a family reunion, which I was going to skip because of the pain, but Mr. Pain pill allowed me to go and eat some amazing food. That's a cure to any ailment. But, on the way, I was telling her about my wretched night. She was talking about remembering when she'd pass a "huge clot" (her words. Sorry!) and how much it hurt. I explained that I'd been there and even the pain from that would have been a welcome relief. To which she said, "Don't you imagine passing those is like having a miscarriage?!" Luckily, I was on pain meds and my brain functioning had found it's lowest point and I couldn't respond. I think she realized what she said and felt bad, because she changed the conversation rather quickly. Today I have lots of responses. Here are a few: "No. That's nothing like a miscarriage." or "You are rather insensitive. When I had my miscarriage, the emotional pain was much worse than the physical labor pains. Which also sucked and were much worse than your 'giant clot' that you passed. It's completely different." or (insert blank stare) "Seriously?" But, I wouldn't have said any of those things because I wouldn't have wanted to hurt her feelings. Ironic, huh?