Silent Suffering

Women’s Health in the Army

By Staff Sgt. Mary M. Mosco

Mission Command Training Program, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas

December 8, 2025

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I spent my 32nd birthday sitting in a pre-op appointment for a hysterectomy. I had no biological children, nor did my husband. A year before, I was surgically diagnosed with Stage 4 deep infiltrating endometriosis after 18 months of appointments with my primary care manager (PCM), where I explained my periods were out of control, I was vomiting from the pain, and I couldn’t stand up.

I was repeatedly told I had a low pain tolerance, I needed to drink peppermint tea, and — my personal favorite — that if I thought cramps were bad, my doctor had bad news about childbirth. I can’t say that earlier intervention would have saved my fertility, but it likely wouldn’t have led to a hysterectomy.

Serious Consequences and Symptoms

Endometriosis is when tissue similar to the uterus’s lining grows outside the uterus. Endometriosis has been found on every organ in the human body, including the nose, spinal column, and eyes. It affects one in every nine women.

On average, it takes seven to 10 years to reach a diagnosis. I was lucky: It only took me two.

Endometriosis is incurable. Treatment options carry serious consequences: hysterectomies that rob you of fertility, drugs that place you into chemical menopause, and surgery after surgery to clean your body of its overachieving growth.

Endo’s symptoms are embarrassing to discuss: pain and bleeding with sexual intercourse, extreme pain with periods, pain not controlled by simple over-the-counter medications, heavy bleeding, abnormal periods, and infertility.

Keeping Quiet in the Army

Women’s health isn’t discussed openly in the Army. We’re judged and berated when we say we have cramps or are on our period. So, some of us learn to keep quiet. We say nothing.

I remember vomiting on the side of the track one morning during physical training (PT), jokingly saying I was hungover. I wasn’t willing to admit I was in excruciating pain from my period. Later, I had diagnostic surgery and told no one. I took a four-day pass, and no one in my command team knew. That’s how far I was willing to go to stay quiet.

The more I learned about endo, the angrier I became. No funding. Lack of awareness. Women being told they’re weak. Being told they want to get out of physical training, of staff duty, of field training, or of any other type of detail.

As leaders, we must be better. We must be willing to have difficult conversations about difficult topics. Women’s health care is no different.

I didn’t know what endometriosis was until I received my diagnosis when I was 31 years old. An incurable disease that affects one in every nine women, and I had no idea. As of now, at the ripe old age of 34, I lost my uterus, my cervix, my tubes, my left ovary, and six inches of my bowel. I had masses the size of tennis balls removed from my abdomen.

Speaking Out

I started talking. I started raising awareness. I started making briefs and PowerPoints in what my husband referred to as my “depression-filled rage.” At every opportunity, I ask senior leaders how we can raise more awareness and break down the barriers to treatment.

I want to present my story. The more I open up about my experiences, the more I learn I’m not alone. Many women come to me with similar issues, but they don’t want to speak — for fear of being that female.

I am one Soldier. While the circumstances of my experience are unique, my story is not.

The NCO Creed states, “My two basic responsibilities will always be uppermost in my mind — accomplishment of my mission and the welfare of my Soldiers. … I know my Soldiers” (Department of the Army, n.d.).

We must know our Soldiers and have the uncomfortable conversations about women’s health. Break down the barriers. Your Soldiers deserve a leader who is willing to start the conversation.

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References

Department of the Army. (n.d.). The NCO Creed. https://www.army.mil/values/nco.html

 

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