eighty thousand women in Piauí experience chronic pain from endometriosis
No estado do Piauí, onde cerca de 80 mil mulheres convivem com a dor crônica da endometriose, uma deputada avança um projeto de lei que busca transformar sofrimento privado em responsabilidade pública. Gracinha Mão Santa, na Assembleia Legislativa em Teresina, constrói essa proposta sobre dois pilares: o saber técnico de especialistas locais e a experiência vivida das próprias pacientes. A iniciativa olha para os estados vizinhos — Ceará e Rio Grande do Norte — como espelhos de possibilidade, enquanto enraíza a solução na realidade piauiense. É o movimento lento, mas necessário, de uma sociedade que começa a nomear como crise coletiva aquilo que por tanto tempo foi silenciado como dor individual.
- Oitenta mil mulheres no Piauí enfrentam diariamente uma condição que corrói a qualidade de vida, sobrecarrega serviços de saúde e permanece sem uma política estadual estruturada.
- A ausência de um marco legal deixa pacientes à deriva entre diagnósticos tardios, tratamentos fragmentados e a invisibilidade histórica de uma doença que afeta uma em cada dez mulheres.
- Uma mesa-redonda reuniu médicos especialistas e pacientes para informar o projeto — um gesto que reconhece que legislar sobre sofrimento exige escutar quem sofre.
- O projeto busca inspiração nos modelos já adotados pelo Ceará e pelo Rio Grande do Norte, adaptando experiências regionais à realidade local com o apoio de dois médicos de Teresina.
- O destino da proposta ainda depende de comissões, emendas e votações — mas as fundações estão postas, e 80 mil mulheres aguardam uma resposta do Estado.
Na manhã de segunda-feira, na Assembleia Legislativa em Teresina, a deputada Gracinha Mão Santa apresentou um projeto de lei que propõe a primeira política estadual abrangente para o tratamento da endometriose no Piauí. Por trás do gesto legislativo, havia um número que ela repetiu com clareza: 80 mil mulheres no estado vivem com a dor crônica causada pela doença — uma crise de saúde pública que, por décadas, usou o rosto discreto do sofrimento silenciado.
Antes de chegar ao plenário, Mão Santa havia passado a manhã em uma mesa-redonda com especialistas médicos e pacientes. Essa escuta, ela deixou claro, não era protocolo — era fundamento. Não se escreve boa lei sobre sofrimento sem primeiro compreender como ele se manifesta por dentro. A conversa moldou o projeto tanto quanto qualquer referência técnica.
A proposta também olhou para fora do estado. Ceará e Rio Grande do Norte já haviam avançado em políticas semelhantes; Piauí aprendeu com esses modelos e os adaptou, contando ainda com a colaboração de dois médicos especialistas de Teresina para garantir rigor técnico e aderência à realidade local.
O projeto precisa ainda percorrer o caminho das comissões e votações. Mas os alicerces estão lançados — nas vozes das pacientes, no conhecimento dos especialistas e nos exemplos dos vizinhos. Para as 80 mil mulheres que esperam, a pergunta permanece aberta: o Estado do Piauí estará à altura do que elas precisam?
Inside the legislative chamber in Teresina on Monday morning, deputy Gracinha Mão Santa stood to speak about a problem that touches roughly 80,000 women across Piauí—the chronic, often debilitating pain of endometriosis. She was pushing forward a bill of her own design, one that would establish the state's first comprehensive policy for treating the condition. The moment felt small in the grand scheme of legislative business, but it carried weight for everyone it might eventually reach.
Mão Santa had spent that same morning in a different kind of meeting, one that shaped how she was now speaking. A roundtable discussion had brought together medical specialists and patients themselves—the people who live inside this disease every day. She listened to what they knew, what they needed, what a real policy would have to account for. That conversation, she believed, was essential. You cannot write good law about suffering without first understanding what suffering actually looks like from the inside.
The bill she was advancing drew inspiration from neighboring states. Ceará and Rio Grande do Norte had already moved on endometriosis policy; Piauí was watching, learning, adapting. But Mão Santa had also reached out to two prominent physicians in her own city, asking them to lend their expertise to the draft. The idea was clear: borrow what works elsewhere, but root the solution in local knowledge and local voices. The policy needed technical rigor. It also needed to reflect the actual lives of the women it would serve.
In her remarks to the chamber, Mão Santa was direct about the stakes. Eighty thousand women in Piauí experience chronic pain from endometriosis. That is not a small number. That is a public health crisis wearing a quiet face—one that shows up in emergency rooms, in missed work days, in the slow erosion of quality of life. A real policy, she argued, would have to do more than acknowledge the problem. It would have to actively work to reduce the suffering, to give women access to diagnosis, treatment, and support that actually works.
The legislative session that day also included other business. Governor Rafael Fonteles was present for the announcement of completed infrastructure projects in the Planície Litorânea region—some of them work that Mão Santa herself had requested. It was the kind of routine legislative moment that fills a day's agenda. But the endometriosis bill represented something different: a deliberate effort to turn private pain into public responsibility, to move from individual struggle to systemic care.
What happens next depends on whether the bill gains traction in committee, whether it survives amendment, whether it eventually reaches a vote. But the groundwork is being laid. The voices of patients and doctors have been heard. The model exists in neighboring states. The need is undeniable. In Piauí, 80,000 women are waiting to see if their government will finally act.
Citas Notables
We are developing and improving the project. In Piauí, about 80,000 women suffer from chronic pain. We drew inspiration from laws in Ceará and Rio Grande do Norte, but we also sought help from two prominent doctors in our city, and held a roundtable with specialists, so that we create a project that truly minimizes the suffering of these women.— Deputy Gracinha Mão Santa
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does a state need a specific policy for one condition? Isn't endometriosis already covered under general health care?
In theory, yes. In practice, endometriosis is chronically underdiagnosed and undertreated. Women often wait years for a diagnosis. Without a dedicated policy, there's no coordinated approach—no training requirements for doctors, no standardized pathways to care, no accountability. A policy makes it official: this matters, and the state will resource it.
The deputy mentioned 80,000 women. How confident is that number?
It's an estimate based on prevalence rates—endometriosis affects roughly one in ten women of reproductive age. For Piauí's population, that math yields approximately 80,000. The real number could be higher, because many cases go undiagnosed. That's actually part of why the policy matters.
She drew on laws from Ceará and Rio Grande do Norte. What do those policies actually do?
They typically establish diagnostic protocols, guarantee access to treatment, require specialist training, and create pathways for women to get care without endless referrals. Piauí is essentially saying: we'll do something similar, but we'll adapt it to our own context and our own doctors' expertise.
The roundtable discussion—was that just for show, or did it actually shape the bill?
Based on what she said, it shaped it. She specifically mentioned that specialists and patients contributed to improving the draft. That's not ceremonial. That's the difference between a policy written in an office and one informed by people who actually live with the condition.
What's the hardest part of turning this into law?
Getting it through committee without being watered down, and then securing budget allocation. A good policy on paper means nothing without money to implement it. That's where the real fight happens.