How to explain endometriosis to your boss; dealing with the condition in the workplace.

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It seems to be a subject that is finally getting more exposure and attention in certain media and online thanks mainly to the bravery and persistence of suffering women, but endometriosis is still by far a
condition that in the workplace remains a hidden and so little understood disease.
When looking at the facts, those who are finally diagnosed account for the statistic that is often recited when summarising the extent of the disease; that one in ten women suffer. So when applying that broadly to the workplace, depending on where you work of course, you could have hundreds of women going about their daily work duties, suffering largely in silence.
It wasn't until my own diagnosis back in 2016 until I started to look back over some real low points during the years prior, particularly experienced in the workplace and could finally make sense of it all.
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I have always worked in media. Busy, buzzy offices. I landed my dream job out of university; working at a record label in digital marketing. Going to gigs, showcases, attending label meetings headed up by the label
president weekly and coming up with digital strategy for such a cool range of artists. It was a sociable job, my one goal after my studies and something I had worked so hard to achieve.
‘Sorry, not feeling 100%, need to leave the meeting’ was a text I had sent my boss across the room one Monday morning as the president of the label was hosting his weekly all-department meeting, one where I was frequently asked to share marketing plans and updates. I was in comparison, a very junior member of staff in that meeting and it was so exciting to be included. But on more than one occasion I just couldn't last the whole hour. Namely around the time of my period. I’d be sitting there trying so hard to focus on what was going on, when inside me a hot, twisting, jabbing pain was surging all around my pelvis and torso. It would drag and spike to such levels that I would hold my breath, oblivious to what anyone was saying around the table and pray for it to subside.
I would sometimes escape to the nearest loo in the office, to just sit there doubled over, rocking back and forth waiting for it to pass. Or other times I would have to get out in the fresh air, aiming to walk and stretch it off up and down Kensington High Street. There was never a perfect prescription for what to do when the pain took over. But then came the embarrassing explanations to those who had seen me slope out of the meeting room. I would never tell them exactly what was going on, just that i’d felt a bit panicky and faint. I’d leave it at that. And I felt stupid, like a special case. I never really told my (male) boss what was truly going on either, in part because at the time I assumed I either just had terrible periods or IBS according to my doctor. Both equally as undesirable a subject as the other. I’d just make sure that my work never suffered as a
result, probably totting up more hours in the office to show that I was absolutely capable of my workload despite ‘not feeling 100%’.
So there I was, in the dark about what the pains actually were, trying to do a good job but feeling completely exhausted by it all. How could my period make trying to function like a normal human so bloody difficult?
Fast forward and my next job came in the way of working in TV. This time I was more senior, more visible. I lose count of the times I have been stood having a chat with someone in the corridor on my way to the loo to resume the hunched over position until the pain eased. And in this role I no longer just attended meetings, I hosted them. A mix of painkillers, rescue remedy and almighty grit getting me through some
really tough situations.
I was finally diagnosed in 2016, aged 35, some 11 years after my job at the record label. And many more years before that where I would encounter the pains that I didn't have a name for.
In a sense, finally understanding what was wrong with my insides, having a term for it and at last not feeling like I was overreacting to something so ‘normal’ for women, a huge sense of relief poured in. Of course, I wasn't delighted at the news given it was at a time when my husband and I were trying for a baby, but to have something to work with, finally felt like a starting point.
In writing this blog, I wondered what I would’ve done differently back when I took that first post uni job had I known more about what I was suffering from. It’s hard to go back to imagine what the old you would’ve
actually done. With age has come a greater sense of confidence in many ways, especially when it comes to being a woman. More than ever, I think it is so incredibly important to talk out about women's health,
to raise awareness and understanding about the different cycles of life we go through and the often problematic health issues we can face along the way.