Endometriosis
Endometriosis in College: How to Take Care of Yourself When Life Doesn’t Pause
College is challenging enough when you’re healthy – throw endometriosis into the mix, and it can feel downright impossible some days. Classes, exams, and the
December 23, 2024
I had one ovary removed and I had one ovary that had less destruction but some endometriomas and my expert endometriosis surgeon operated on it and removed as much as she could. She said, there might be microscopic endometriomas that she couldn’t see to remove so there’s a chance it could grow back but she would leave the one ovary so that I could get through menopause with my natural hormones. Because menopause sucks.
It’s been over a year since my surgery and my hormones never really came back to producing a good amount of estrogen. I still went through surgical menopause . I am now on hormone replacement therapy. If I had known that I would still need to use hormone replacement therapy, then I’m not sure that I would have left the ovary at all because now I have the risk it could grow back. I hope that helps.
You made a medically sound decision based on the goal of preserving natural hormone production that’s standard and protective, not a mistake. Ovarian function after surgery is unpredictable, so needing HRT later doesn’t mean the choice was wrong.
Keeping the ovary still had potential benefits (chance of natural hormones, bone/heart protection), and the recurrence risk exists whether you’re on HRT or not it just needs monitoring, not regret.
There’s no perfect surgical option in endometriosis only the best-informed one at the time, and that’s exactly what you chose.
Your profile must be on the top of search engines. From my experience you should collect more comments and likes
I chose to remove as my surgeon said that if I kept it, it would be coming out within 5 years.
I had a hysterectomy for adenomyosis along with complete excision for stage 4 endo in October 2021. Within 8 weeks of my surgery, my multi cystic ovary developed an endometrioma. For now, we are monitoring it, but once the endometrioma grows or causes pain, I’ll have the ovary removed so this doesn’t happen again. This will leave me with one ovary that will hopefully stay healthy enough to sustain me until menopause. Im 31
That sounds like such a difficult situation to go through, especially after such a major surgery. Having a hysterectomy and excision for stage 4 endometriosis is already a lot for your body to handle, and then facing an endometrioma so soon after must feel incredibly frustrating and unfair.
It makes sense that your doctors are monitoring it carefully for now. I really hope your remaining ovary stays healthy and gives your body the support it needs for many years. You’re still so young to be navigating all of this, and it takes a lot of strength to keep moving forward through these challenges. Sending you support and hoping things stay stable for you.
I agree with some of the comments in that I would definitely seek out additional surgical opinions – with surgeons who have completed a fellowship in Minimally Invasive Gynecologic surgery AND who have at MINIMUM 5 years endometriosis surgical experience since completing that fellowship. (Preferably 10 years.) I would not be surprised if the surgeon who made the recommendation to this patient is an OB/GYN or more general gynecologist/surgeon (or even general or oncological surgeon), who are taught different and (in my opinion) far less helpful approaches to operate on endometriosis patients. In my personal experience as a patient and in my own research, I’ve come across multiple surgical techniques to remove endometrioma from ovaries. So, if this doc isn’t even discussing the range of options and how/why each could be helpful, sounds like opinions with surgeons who have different training would be really helpful in making an informed decision about treatment options.
I chose to keep both ovaries, although one had a large endometriosis and one was adhered to bowel with endo. I had 2 nearly pain free years, but am struggling again. TBD if endo is back or if something else is going on. In hindsight I wish I’d been less conservative in my first surgery. Early menopause is scary without a plan for support from a great care team, though!
I had a 4 cm endometrioma on my left ovary. Prior to surgery the plan was to keep as much as possible but take whatever needed to go. I have all reproductive organs in tact and was able to conceive almost 2 years post op with the help of letrozole to boost ovulation.
I had 9 cm endometriomas on each ovary. My surgeon excised the lesions and saved my ovaries in hopes of preserving my fertility. A year after my surgery, we got 16 eggs and ultimately 6 normal embryos. I’m sure my surgical outcome would’ve been different if the goal wasn’t fertility preservation.
I had a 17cm endometriosis on my left ovary 3 years ago which was excised. My doctor saved my ovary and I had a beautiful baby girl 2 years later, if you really want kids or think you will think about your options. I conceived my baby girl from my left ovary and am so glad my doctor didn’t just cut it out.
In that case, I would part with the affected ovary. If I end up in that position, I’m not sure what I’ll do, as I only have one ovary left anyway.
I had emergency surgery and didn’t get a choice, my endometriosis was undiagnosed at the time and they decided to remove it. That awful pain is gone now so I can’t complain at all
This is my current scenario!!
I had a similar situation. I was on luprodex injection prior to surgery. The size of the endometrioma reduced to an extent and the doctor saved as much healthy tissue could be saved instead of removing the left ovary. It’s been five years. I have no recurrence so far in the left ovary. However, I have endometriosis in right ovary now, which we are monitoring and I am also on dienogest.
My first endo surgery was don’t by my fertility specialist who just drained the endometriomas and removed a very small piece of each ovary. My endometriomas grew back within about 6 months. We won’t on to do IVF with endometriomas on my ovaries and none of our embryos stuck. They endometriomas are now at 16.5 and 7.5cm and I have found an endo specialist who is able to remove the endometriomas without damaging my ovaries, so that’s what I’m going with this time. Hoping this helps and allows us to have a baby
From what I have researched, the recurrence rate depends significantly upon surgeon skill.In my case, I did a ton of research and settled on a surgeon with a ridiculously low recurrence rate due to skill, and not only saved but reconstructed, both of my ovaries. Hormonal imbalance have greatly perturbed my life for 20 years and removing an ovary would only worsen that.
I have a large chocolate cyst maybe 10.7cm on my left ovary. A surgeon has told me they can keep the ovary with a twenty five percent risk of recurrence or remove it and leave me with only one ovary on the right side. What would be your consideration if you were in this situation?
I’m 33 and have been on a long fertility journey that challenged me both physically and emotionally. After multiple failed treatments, I quietly started blaming myself and questioning my worth while trying to stay strong on the outside. Over time, I realized my journey was never about personal failure but about finding the right answers and learning to understand my body with more compassion. The biggest change for me wasn’t immediate success it was emotional healing, letting go of guilt, and allowing myself to hope again. I’m still moving forward, but now with patience, self-kindness, and the belief that our journeys do not define our worth.
I never thought I would be someone sharing a story like this. For years, I told myself my heavy bleeding and pelvic pain were just part of getting older. Just hormones. Just perimenopause. I was 40, a school teacher in Vijayawada, standing for long hours, managing classes, traveling between cities to keep my family together. Life was busy, so I ignored my body.
My periods became heavier and longer. There were clots, severe cramps, and a deep dragging pain that spread to my lower back and thighs. I carried extra sarees to work and kept painkillers in every bag. By the end of each day, I felt like I was carrying something unbearably heavy inside me. I felt dizzy during assemblies and sometimes had to sit down mid-lecture because the pain was too intense. I nearly fainted once at school, and even then I hesitated to seek proper help.
Eventually, after multiple consultations and an ultrasound, I was diagnosed with adenomyosis and severe anemia. Hearing the diagnosis was frightening, but also a relief. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t exaggerating. There was a reason for my suffering.
I chose to have a hysterectomy and stepped away from my teaching job so I could truly recover. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life. Teaching was not just work; it was part of who I was. But staying the same would have cost me more.
After surgery, the heavy bleeding stopped. The constant pelvic pain disappeared. My energy slowly returned. More than physical healing, I realized how much I had normalized suffering. I had equated endurance with strength.
Now I understand that choosing my health was not weakness. It was self-preservation. I share this because if you are silently enduring heavy bleeding or chronic pelvic pain, please don’t dismiss it. Listen to your body. You deserve care, clarity, and a life that isn’t defined by pain.
I never cancel travel.”
That’s how I used to describe myself.
Hi, I’m Divya. I’m 36, from Hubli, and I’ve always measured my life in destinations Spiti’s cold desert, long coastal walks in Gokarna, a silent sunrise in Sikkim after a solo trek. I was always going somewhere.
Marriage could wait. Rest could wait. Life could not.
Until my body stopped me.
Two years before my diagnosis, travel began to feel different. Airport security lines became unbearable because standing too long caused a deep, pulling pelvic pain. On road trips, I’d quietly press a cushion against my abdomen and pretend I was just tired. Trekking the thing that made me feel most alive became impossible during my periods.
I started choosing destinations based on my cycle.
Then I started cancelling trips.
And that scared me more than the pain.
At work, no one noticed. I was still reliable, always on time, always delivering. I blamed stress, bad eating habits, hectic schedules. I carried painkillers in my laptop bag and confidence on my face. During presentations, I shifted my weight constantly to ease the pressure in my pelvis.
Doctor after doctor told me it was IBS, hormones, or stress. My reports were normal. Slowly, I started believing maybe this is just what being a working woman in her 30s feels like.
The breaking point was a solo adventure I had dreamed about for two years. My bags were packed. The night before my flight, the pain was so intense I couldn’t stand straight.
I cancelled.
And I cried not because of the pain, but because I felt like I had lost myself.
Eventually, I found a specialist who listened. For the first time, I was allowed to explain everything how long I could stand at airports, why I stopped trekking, the pain even outside my periods. He didn’t dismiss it as stress. He recognised a pattern.
After detailed evaluation, I was diagnosed with endometriosis.
Surgery wasn’t presented as a shortcut. It was framed as a step toward getting my life back. Recovery was slow but steady. I could sit through meetings without shifting in pain. I slept without a heating pad. I walked without that dragging sensation.
When symptoms returned later, I was shaken but not lost. I had already been told this condition requires long-term management. Treatment became holistic: medication, nutrition, pelvic physiotherapy, structured follow-ups, and fertility counselling.
At 36, fertility had always been a “later” topic. Now it became an informed one. I felt in control of my timeline again.
Months later, I booked my first real adventure after treatment river rafting in Rishikesh. It scared me, which is exactly why I chose it.
Standing there in my rafting gear, I had tears in my eyes.
Not from pain.
From gratitude.
When the raft hit the first rapid and cold water splashed across my face, I laughed freely something I hadn’t done in years.
That’s when I knew I hadn’t just recovered.
I had returned to myself.
If you’re reading this and feel dismissed or confused about your pain keep pushing for answers. Strength isn’t pushing through suffering. It’s advocating for your body.
The most powerful journey I’ve taken wasn’t across mountains or rivers.
It was back to myself.
My name is Kavya Ramesh. I’m 30, and I live in Mysuru.
When I was diagnosed with Endometriosis, people expected me to panic. Many women hear that word and immediately imagine surgery, years of pain, or their life being turned upside down.
But my first reaction was different.
I didn’t see a crisis.
I saw a problem to understand — and a plan to build.
The Fit Girl With One Blind SpotFrom the outside, my life looked extremely disciplined.
I woke up early for strength training. In the evenings, I taught yoga classes. My lunches were meal-prepped, my steps were tracked, and my water bottle was never far from my hand.
Fitness wasn’t just a hobby for me — it was my identity.
But there was one contradiction I rarely thought about.
I smoked occasionally. Not a lot — just socially. And I drank on weekends, sometimes mid-week if it had been a long day.
I told myself it balanced out.
“I work out. I eat clean. I deserve this.”
For a while, my body stayed quiet.
The Subtle SignalsMy periods were never dramatic. I wasn’t the kind of person who collapsed in pain or missed work every month.
But slowly, small changes appeared.
My periods became heavier than they used to be. The cramps started reaching into my lower back. During certain yoga poses — especially deep hip openers — I felt a dull pulling sensation in my pelvis.
Then came the bloating that didn’t match my diet.
And the fatigue.
For someone who lived on protein shakes, green smoothies, and structured workouts, that tiredness made no sense.
Sometimes intimacy felt uncomfortable too — not sharp pain, but a deep pressure that felt wrong.
Because I work in fitness, I track everything. Eventually I noticed the pattern.
The pain always followed my cycle.
That was when I booked an appointment with a gynecologist.
A Diagnosis That Changed My PerspectiveAfter imaging and evaluation, the doctor explained calmly.
Early-stage endometriosis.
Not severe.
Not deeply infiltrating.
But definitely there.
He didn’t scare me with worst-case scenarios. He didn’t dismiss my symptoms either.
Instead, he said something simple that stayed in my mind.
“Endometriosis is an inflammatory condition. Your lifestyle can either calm it down — or keep feeding it.”
That sentence hit harder than the diagnosis itself.
The Truth About My “Balanced Lifestyle”I started reading more about inflammation and hormones.
Smoking increases oxidative stress and reduces circulation.
Alcohol can raise estrogen levels and worsen inflammation.
And endometriosis thrives in exactly that environment.
Suddenly my “balanced lifestyle” didn’t feel so balanced anymore.
I had built strength on the outside — but internally, I might have been working against my body.
Turning Health Into a PlanI approach most things like training programs, so I decided to approach this the same way.
Phase One: Awareness.
I tracked symptoms alongside nights I smoked or drank. It didn’t take long to notice the pattern. My worst flare-ups almost always followed weekends out.
Phase Two: Reduction.
I stopped weekday drinking first. Then I limited alcohol to once every couple of weeks.
Smoking was harder. It wasn’t addiction as much as habit — something social, something tied to stress.
So I replaced it.
Evening walks after dinner.
Breathwork instead of a cigarette.
Herbal tea instead of wine.
Learning to say “no” without explaining.
Phase Three: Elimination.
Within four months, I quit smoking completely. Alcohol became occasional and intentional, not something automatic.
The Changes I Didn’t ExpectSlowly, my body responded.
My periods became lighter.
The deep pelvic heaviness faded.
The bloating reduced.
My energy felt stable again.
But the biggest shift wasn’t physical.
For the first time in months, I stopped feeling like my body was contradicting my lifestyle.
Yoga poses started feeling deeper again. Strength training felt powerful instead of exhausting.
My doctor also guided me toward anti-inflammatory nutrition, prioritizing omega-3 fats, maintaining healthy body fat levels, and managing stress through restorative yoga.
It wasn’t about extremes. It was about consistency.
Learning to ListenLooking back, I don’t think endometriosis appeared overnight.
Maybe genetics played a role. Maybe hormonal fluctuations over the years. Maybe inflammation that slowly built without me noticing.
But I do know one thing.
Smoking and drinking weren’t helping.
And once I removed them, my body had a chance to settle.
Calm Instead of CatastropheI didn’t need surgery.
I didn’t need aggressive medication.
What I needed was awareness — and the discipline to apply it to the right things.
Today I still lift weights. I still teach yoga. But I respect recovery as much as intensity.
Endometriosis isn’t something I fight every day.
It’s something I listen to.
Because sometimes empowerment isn’t loud or dramatic.
Sometimes it’s just choosing water instead of wine — and realizing that small choices can change everything.