When an Endo Flare Hits Out of Nowhere at Work

I took these photos of myself on Friday, November 14th, 2025. They are raw and unfiltered because that morning reminded me of something every person with endometriosis knows too well. An endo flare can hit at any time. It does not care about your plans, your responsibilities, your deadlines, or the fact that you woke up feeling completely fine.

That morning started like any other. I woke up feeling good. I was energetic, upbeat, and thankful it was Friday, and I was ready to take on a full day in the operating room. I am a medical device sales representative, which means I spend my days in surgeries supporting the surgical team. It is fast-paced, demanding, and requires constant focus. I take great pride in showing up prepared.

Before a patient is brought into the operating room, I follow the same routine. I step into the restroom, take a minute for myself, breathe, and mentally prepare for the case ahead. It is my little grounding ritual.

Then suddenly everything changed.

In the blink of an eye, a sharp, intense pain shot through my stomach. It hit so fast that I thought I was going to pass out. One second, I was fine. Next, I was gripping the stall wall, trying to steady myself. I rushed into one of the bathroom stalls and sat down, pulling my legs tightly into my stomach, which is visible in the photo with the red scrub cap. My body instinctively folded into that position. It is the posture I go into when the pain is unbearable and I am just trying to survive the moment.

I sat like that for at least ten minutes. Every attempt to stand up made the pain worse. It felt like a rubber band snapping inside me. My lower back started aching, and I kept coaching myself through it. Just get up slowly. Take deep breaths. Get some water. You can do this. You have done this before.

But the pain did not pass. It escalated.

I started panicking because I had a long day ahead of me, and this was the worst possible time for a flare to hit. After several attempts, I was able to get myself out of the stall and over to a chair. I sat hunched forward, unable to straighten my back. A coworker walked into the locker room and immediately saw that something was wrong. I asked her if she could please go into the operating room and let the nurse and doctor know that I was not feeling well and would be in as soon as possible.

I called my best friend on FaceTime because I needed a distraction and someone to talk me through the panic. I kept telling myself it would pass soon. I needed it to. I had to get through it.

Forty-five minutes later, I was still sitting in that same chair, hunched over and shaking. I could not sit up straight, let alone stand. Tears were running down my face because I did not know what to do. I knew I physically could not walk into that operating room, but I also felt trapped. I needed to show up for my job. I needed to be there for the surgeon and the team. I needed to not let anyone down.

While still on FaceTime with my best friend, I texted my sister and told her what was happening. I asked her the only thing I could think of at that moment. What am I supposed to say to them? I work in a male-dominated industry. Both my managers are men. The surgeon I work with is a man. What am I supposed to tell them as to why I suddenly need to go home? What the fuck am I going to say?

Her response was immediate. You need to be honest and explain what is happening. Period.

I knew she was right, but I told her how embarrassed and mortified I felt. I told her what a difficult position it put me in because if I texted my manager saying I needed someone to come tag me out so I could go home due to an endo flare, I worried he would be thinking to himself, What the fuck is an endo flare and why would she need to leave work for that.

She was right. And even though I felt sick with guilt, I messaged my manager and asked for help. Thankfully, I work with an incredible team that did not question it. They just helped.

I packed up my work bag and somehow managed to get myself home, crying in agony the entire drive. I went straight to bed and curled into the fetal position. My body was beating me up from the inside, and I was beating myself up mentally. I felt like I needed to apologize to everyone. My manager. The surgeon. The nurses I support in the room. I felt guilty that I could not just push through. I felt ashamed that I could not just suck it up. I felt afraid they would think I was exaggerating or making it up.

And here is the part that breaks my heart. I know I am not the only one who has felt this way.

Too many women with endometriosis suffer through debilitating pain in silence because they fear being judged at work. They fear losing credibility. They fear losing their job. They fear not being believed. They fear the looks, the confusion, the questions, and the assumption that they are simply being dramatic.

But here is the truth. Endometriosis is a real disease with real symptoms that can strike without warning. It is unpredictable, and it is not the fault of the person living in that body.

No one should have to sit in overwhelming pain for an hour in a workplace bathroom because they are afraid to tell their manager they are sick. No one should jeopardize their health to protect someone else’s comfort or avoid awkward conversations. No one should feel guilt or shame for something they cannot control.

I woke up the next day and felt one hundred percent back to myself. No pain in my abdomen. No aching in my back. No sign of the agony I had been in less than twenty-four hours earlier. This is the real, raw, and messy part of endometriosis. It is why people who have never experienced it struggle to understand it. One moment we can be smiling and functioning, and the next we can be curled up on a bathroom floor, wishing someone could sedate us so we can escape the pain.

That moment grounded me. It reminded me exactly why I created Own My Endo and why I launched the EndoWarriors podcast. This is the reason. These moments. These stories. These experiences that so many of us have lived but were too scared or ashamed to share. The world cannot understand endometriosis unless we speak about it. The stigma cannot change unless we push back. The fear cannot lessen unless we stand together and tell the truth about what this disease does to us.

I went through all of that pain, fear, guilt, and self-doubt in just a few hours. And the next day, I looked completely fine. That is what endometriosis looks like. It is invisible on the outside, but it is life-altering on the inside. And this is why I will continue to show up and use my voice. This is why I will keep telling the truth about this disease. This is why Own My Endo exists.

Endometriosis deserves to be understood. Women deserve to be believed. And we all deserve workplaces where we do not have to hide our pain to keep our jobs.