When I was symptomatically diagnosed with endometriosis my first emotion was relief. My pain has a name. My pain is real. Although I had never heard of endometriosis, I quickly realized how it had eluded my reality while being a constant presence for most of my life. Despite the persistent bleeding and pain that accompanies this chronic condition, it often goes undiagnosed for upwards of 15 years due to a lack of understanding of how it develops and the fact that there is no cure. I read about women who have spent so much money and endured countless pills and extensive surgeries only for their condition to worsen. This realization took a toll on my mental health. I couldn’t do the things I used to. There were days when I just didn’t want to get out of bed. There were days when I couldn’t even physically get out of bed. As an extravert, this enervated me almost immediately and almost totally. I started reading prolifically about my condition. From Google to my University’s library, if anything mentioned endometriosis I was reading it, from causes to cures. However, the massive influx of possible causes, solutions, and cautions led me to start blaming myself and punishing myself. No matter how many times an article ended with stating some variation of “none of these facts can be definitely proven”, I was convinced and castigated myself constantly. If scholar A is correct in their conjecture then I would be fine if I hadn’t done B, C, or D. If article B is correct then if I don't stop doing E, F, and G then I’ll just get worse and worse. During this time, I can only describe my state as broken in two.
I let these thoughts and reading habits continue despite my worsening mental and physical condition. It was my last semester of coursework in my English Ph.D. program, and I was painfully attending each week in a daze, contributing but not feeling anything but my own pain. One class about human and animal differences in literature startled me out of my own pitiful, yet understandable, self-indulgence. We were discussing the productive intersections yet cautions regarding the meeting of Critical Animal Studies and Disability Studies in literary theory when someone mentioned how literature and ideas regarding the healing of people with disabilities sustain a system that treats people with disabilities as inherently lacking something human. I immediately paused. I had come across this criticism before in literary studies, but it struck me this time because, for the first time in my life, I identified as a person with a disability. So, when I heard this now, it felt like I was hearing it for the first time. It affected me personally. I immediately started thinking first- of myself and how untrue this theory was and secondly, and most importantly, I thought about Jesus, my Lord and Savior.
For the first time since my diagnosis, I was reminded that He is the Great Healer. I recalled the bleeding woman and felt a connection with her on a spiritual and physical level. I re-read Matthew 9:20, Mark 5:25, Luke 8:43 and let them wash over me as if I was reading them for the first time. Like the bleeding woman, I had spent countless hours on doctors visits to no avail. Like the bleeding women, I tried many things, but felt only worse. Like the bleeding woman, I had suffered this bleeding disease for years. Like the bleeding woman, I knew only He could heal me: “If I may but touch His garment, I shall be whole” (Matthew 9:21). For me, that faith-inspired action of reaching out and touching His garment meant reaching out and holding tight to the scripture. The Bible is God’s Holy Word for us through which we can directly communicate with Him. The Bible is God-Speaking. Holding fast to the scripture in that moment and from that moment on was my faith-inspired action that made me feel whole and healed. From there, my entire life felt new again. I began to sing a new song for the Lord. I remembered my Baptism and felt the Holy Spirit moving in my life. Every aspect of my life was informed and changed in this moment. That period of darkness and brokeness was gone. I felt renewed as a wife, daughter, sister, friend, and co-worker. I had been made whole and was moved to tell everyone about it.
I knew I had to share my experience then for I had experienced the healing of Jesus Christ. I had to share how His healing makes us whole not because our disease makes us less human, but because our disease can make us feel as if we are broken. Chronic disease, and acute disease, can make the sufferer feel as if they are two separate people fighting an internal battle, but Jesus' love makes us whole and if we have faith in Him we will be made whole. Like many of us women who are suffering from endometriosis, the bleeding woman in the Gospels suffered many physicians who could not heal her, she spent all her money seeking a cure, and she felt like the pain and stress were tearing her in two. However, she did not lose faith. She knew if she could just touch His clothes she would be healed and she was. I realized then that, in all my reading, I had failed to turn to the only book that could bring me true healing. For the first time since my diagnosis, I cried tears of joy. I knew I was whole again. Although I still feel immense pain, I never am torn apart by it for I know that Jesus, the Great Healer is my friend and Savior.