You've brought me misery for years. Debilitating menstrual cycles from the very beginning. Pain and agony. Gallons of blood. Fibroids.
There were many drugs offered. All they ever managed to do was take the edge off. Countless days were lost thanks to you. Curled up in the fetal position crying.
OK, maybe I'm not being entirely fair. There was that one time you grew an amazing human being inside of you. I don't mean to sound as if I'm not grateful; I am. It was awesome.
You totally redeemed yourself with that one. Then I had the ablation and things were better. Much better. I had high hopes we could be friends.
But now you are back to all your old tricks. And I am facing potential surgery. Again. It would be my sixth procedure related to you in as many years.
I'm not going to sugar coat things; I plan to talk to my doctor about taking you out with the fibroid. Of course that would make the permanent birth control option I went with last year obsolete. And the ablation. Talk about a waste of money! Thanks for that.
But I'm ready to enter a new phase of my life.
No, not that one. The ovaries get to stay. But you are in danger of eviction. Because I don't want to suffer any more.
It's not me; it's you. And I deserve better.