The sad reality is that women’s health is underfunded and under researched. Women with health conditions like PCOS, vaginismus, fibroids and endometriosis tend to be on the receiving end of medical misogyny.
However there needs to be space to discuss what these medical conditions are and how they affect how women who have them navigate life.
In our latest listicle, Urban Woman Magazine asked women who have endometriosis to share what their experience has been and health management tips.
Read their responses below.
Ladun*
From a very early age, I’ve always dealt with period pain. Sometimes mild, sometimes completely debilitating. It was sort of normalized growing up — people would say, “As you get older, it’ll get better. When you have children, it’ll get better.”
Except, it didn’t.
I got my first period around age nine or ten — definitely before I turned thirteen — and the pain followed me all through my teens and early twenties. My first real doctor’s visit happened when my periods started becoming irregular. The doctor said my hormone levels were off and prescribed progesterone therapy to regulate things. It helped to some extent; my periods were more bearable, though still heavy. At least I could go to class or work without being completely bedridden. For a while, that was progress.
But after I turned twenty-four, things got worse. One night, while on my period, I woke up with crazy pain — deep, sharp, and unbearable. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from exactly, but it felt like my lower abdomen was on fire. When I went to the doctor, they initially suspected a ruptured appendix. That moment began a long, exhausting cycle of tests and misdiagnoses — for pelvic inflammatory disease, infections, and other conditions. Most doctors brushed it off as “just bad period pain.”
Eventually, I gave up and lived with the pain for about a year and a half. Every month, I’d cry through it. I tried everything — ibuprofen, diclofenac, heating pads, heating belts, herbal patches — anything that might help. Nothing really worked.
Then one day, I decided I’d had enough. I was going to find a doctor who would actually listen. I googled gynecologists in Lagos, checked Twitter for patient experiences, and found one with reviews that said she truly listened. Five minutes into my first appointment, after I explained my history and the pattern of my pain, she asked, “Where does it usually start?”
I told her it typically began around my left ovary and then spread to my waist, back, and legs. That’s when she said, “I think you have endometriosis.”
She didn’t rush me into any invasive procedures — unlike previous doctors who wanted to do pelvic scans or endless blood tests. She explained that my symptoms sounded like a chocolate cyst, which is common in women with endometriosis. She recommended an ultrasound and asked the technician to pay close attention. Sure enough, the results showed a sizable chocolate cyst exactly where my pain always began.
Finally, I had a name for what I’d been feeling all these years. It wasn’t in my head. I wasn’t being dramatic. It was endometriosis. The relief of finally knowing what was wrong is hard to describe.
When it came to treatment, my doctor advised against surgery for now. I was still young, and the cyst — though painful — wasn’t causing severe adhesions. She explained that laparoscopy isn’t always a permanent solution; endometrial tissue can grow back, and surgeries can carry risks. One of my friends shared her experience of losing an ovary during what was supposed to be a simple cyst removal, and she spent years going through fertility treatments afterward. That story really stuck with me.
So, with my doctor’s support, I opted for the Zoladex protocol instead — a hormone therapy that shuts down your period for a few months and gives the cyst time to drain naturally. It essentially pauses your ovaries, allowing your body to reset.
Honestly, it was the best decision I ever made.
The Zoladex implant sucked at first, the hot flashes, the migraines. But a few months later and my pain is at least tolerable, my period is regular. I know it’s not a permanent solution.
So I need to decide if I’ll get a lap, freeze my eggs, not have kids and get a hysterectomy…
Jewel
Phewwwww, where to begin. On Medical Misogyny….
My GP told me there’s only three ways for him to confirm that I have endometriosis.
– painful menstruation.
– painful sexual intercouse.
– infertility.
I confirmed the first and asked how he expects me to confirm the remaining two since I’m clearly an unmarried woman, does he want me to go out to sleep with a man and also try to conceive while at it?
He said he’s not saying I should do all of that but whatever I decide to do, I should be careful.
Meanwhile, the numerous ultrasound scan I have been doing since last year October have repeatedly confirmed that I have a *left ovarian cyst* and the type of cyst is called a *chocolate ovarian cyst*, which is a severe symptom of Stage III Endometriosis.
My Doctors are yet to give me an accurate diagnosis, all of these, I got from reading up on other women’s experience online.
Upon my insistence at my back and forth appointments at the hospital, I was eventually booked for a lapostropic diagnostic surgery/procedure, but I asked for a postponement.
I’m not ready mentally, physically, medically, in all ways for the procedure. I feel like if I do this to my body, I may not recover from it.
Because of the way I tackled this doctor, he had to ask and affirm that I must be a feminist.
🤣🤣🤣
*Name changed to protect identity
Angel Nduka-Nwosu is a writer, journalist and editor. She moonlights occasionally as a podcaster on As Angel Was Sayin’. Catch her on all socials @asangelwassayin.