Thursday, November 9, 2017 9:59 am. I've been wanting to speak my truths from this 8 month recovery journey but every time I sat down to write...nothing. For months I have not been able to articulate and put my truths, thoughts, and feelings into motion. And yesterday, out of no where all of the feels just hit me and words flew out effortlessly. And even with me speaking my truths I feel ashamed. I feel judged. I feel wrong for living in my truths and speaking about them. One might say that I should be more grateful because I made it out to the other side. Whatever the other side looks like and believe you me...I am so grateful. So very, very grateful BUT the journey has been rough. The journey still is rough.
My journey has been nothing short of rainbows and butterflies. This journey has broken me in my ways that I didn't even know I could be broken into. My truths reflect other peoples truths because when it's all said and done...people have projected their own truths on me. Let me explain....
3 weeks after my surgery I was back to real world life. I was out and about and surrounding myself around people...outside of my small village. Women from all over the world were writing me well wishes..sending me crystals and gifts, checking up on me, offering encouraging words (or so they thought) along with a lot of other things. And one of the topics that stands out to me like an apple growing on an orange tree is the truths of others that I know; as well as, women that I do not know. Women who had suffered with miscarriages and infertility were dumping their truths on me like I was a porta potty and I was okay with that. I encourage others to speak their truths BUT not at the disposal and downplay of mine.
Oh, Moeneak you should be happy that you don't have children. You know, having children is not all that it's cracked up to be. Just think, you have a wonderful life with your husband and you guys can pick up and leave whenever you want. Moeneak, babies are sooo expensive. Just think about how much money you are saving. Don't worry...you can borrow my kids whenever you like. God, has a plan for you and maybe children just weren't in the plan. Listen honey, I'm not sure what Encouragement 101 class these people took but this is a wonderful lesson on shit that you SHOULDN'T say to any woman who can not EVER conceive a child. These words pierced in my heart every time I heard them spewed at me or whenever I read them. When the people who spoke these words over me my body became numb. I grew a strong resentment towards them.
Ladies and gentleman, it is easy to spew words and statements like the above when you're living a life that women like me envy. When you've been blessed with a child or multiple children and the only thing that I've ever wanted was to be a mother...and to have that life ripped from right under me...these are not statements that I want to hear. EVER. And these are not statements and words that should be spewed from your mouth to me or any woman like me who is suffering from endometriosis or infertility.
These words pierce my soul so deep that it has hardened my heart for wanting children now, and maybe other factors contributed to the space that I am in now too. Before my surgery I knew that I wanted children. I knew that I could never have my own children BUT I've always known that I wanted to adopt children. Until these truths of others were dumped on me. I have been in a space for MONTHS now of not wanting children and I want absolutely nothing to do with children. In any capacity of life. Which is hard because my husband wants children and bad. We have been blessed with amazing God children, nieces, nephews, and cousins that surround us in our daily lives. This space that I am in right now is very dark and confusing. I mentioned how some of my closest friends and family members dropped their truths on me concerning how they didn't want children and they weren't sure if they would ever want children....and how I'm pose to take that? Do you know how hard it is to be open and encouraging to them because these in fact are their truths and feels?? And that right is given to every woman but how hurtful is it to wonder why those truths are dumped on me? Am I wrong for wondering why God wouldn't place this journey on women who don't want children anyway?? Not that I wish any of them bad wishes, so please don't misinterpret what I am saying. I'm simply letting you in on the thoughts and questions that troubled my mind. I mean...why me??? God??? Why me???
And let me make this clear, I don't think these feels and words were spewed out to me in a shady manner. I think these men and women really meant well wishes to me and my husband but the delivery was just off. Way off. And I am trying very hard to work through this dark space that I am in because I don't want to shut out God's plan for my life. I don't want to move in this journey and space out of fear and resentment. I have been praying and talking to God about my life and this journey and plan that he has for me. And in some of those prayers I am asking him to show me some signs and he is doing just that. Pastor Lance preached a message on Sunday titled Generous Justice and this message hit home so hard for me. Adoption is a beautiful reflection of God's love. The Bible speaks about true religion in a reflection of taking care of the orphans. And the following scriptures really penetrated my soul..Proverbs 31:8-9, Deuteronomy 10:18, and Proverbs 19: 17 and Psalms 82:3. I needed those scriptures and small nuggets from God. I needed to know that even though my plan did not go at all how I wanted or envisioned it that I could still be a reflection of God's love towards me through adoption. Sorting through this journey is hard man. In the dark moments I'm always wondering how in the world God is going to get the glory out of this situation? And then I receive messages, emails, phone calls of women letting me know their truths and how my journey has blessed them. I'm really honored and happy by it all. My husband and I sat still during this service and we let those words from God sink into our hearts and the tears began to fall from my eyes....
And although, I am not 100% in a space of certainty when it comes to wanting children, I am open. Wide open to the path and journey of our lives together as a family. I will not allow my fears to be projected into my journey. I will not grieve in silence. I sit in my truths and moments honestly and very vulnerably. I honestly don't know if things are getting better for me or if I am just getting really good at adjusting to the changes of my life but life feels better...I feel better. Not everyday, but today and that's okay. I'm resting in the power of knowing that I can take all of the time that I need to heal....from loss....from pain....from resentment....and from hurt. I will and I am taking care of me. Standing in my truths has made it possible for many of you to do the same. So I stand tall and although it is dark, there is light here too, and, there will be a brighter light again soon. And I will set my truths free to breathe and when they are no longer my truths I will start anew and live in my new ones.
Speak your truths and let your heart be heard, for even disaster is beautiful when it is pure.
-Moeneak
Monday, November 13, 2017
Thursday, November 9, 2017
It's Show Time: The day of my Hysterectomy
I went through 4 rounds of transfusions. 1 Blood transfusion and 3 iron transfusions. And each time I went back to the cancer transfusion center I felt more and more free. The same men and women met me ever week and Sweet, Mrs Emma was there to welcome me with arms wide open every week. These men and women had become a breath of fresh air because no matter how bad I THOUGHT I had it....they were a constant reminder that it could always be much much worse. The transfusions were not what one would call an exact success. I mean they worked as good as bringing my blood counts to an 11...and it was short lived but good enough to send me into the clear for my hysterectomy....
Friday, March 17, 2017, 5:30 am. I arrive yet again at good old St. Thomas Hospital where I am once again greeted by the most amazing staff known to man kind. I walk back to pre-op change into my hospital clothes and they provided me with these mesh like panties because of course with my luck I would be dealing with shark week the day of my surgery. (Insert real dramatic ass eye roll). Anyways, I change into my surgery attire and what happens next?? You guessed it....let's draw some blood and check these blood counts. Dr. Barnett came into the waiting room area where I was with that same disgruntle look as before which let me know that I was yet again being slapped in the face. Before, he could even deliver the news to me I grabbed his hand and begged him to not cancel my hysterectomy. I was exhausted. Mentally...physically...and spiritually and I knew that there was no way I would be able to endure another round of transfusions. I knew that my fight was over and if I am honest I wasn't willing to fight for anything more. Life...my health...my healing...anything. I was tired and done! I was willing to deal with the consequences of my actions of rejecting the treatment. I knew with blood counts at a 7 that I was going to need a blood transfusion either during or after this surgery. I knew that if this surgery went south that my life would be in more jeopardy than it has ever been. I let Dr. Barnett know that if anything went wrong during this procedure to let nature just run it's course and to hug my mother tight and let her know that all is well with me and with any outcome that presented itself. So I mentally prepared myself for the worst and I'm really glad that I did. It made for a much smoother let down this time around.
He grabbed my hands and spoke these silent words in my ear.....Moeneak, do you mind if we say a prayer with you this morning??? I immediately felt myself surrender to God and his plan for my life. It was like all of my doubts and fears dropped immediately. He prayed and I cried. The nurses prayed and I cried some more. The anesthesiologist prayed and I cried even harder. I was surrounded by some of the most amazing angles that one could ask for. When my eyes opened I was surrounded by about 10-12 people whose eyes were red and wet from the tears that they shed with me. They hugged me tight and wished me well on my new journey. We cleared our eyes because it was show time. Dr. Barnett let me know that the surgery would last about 2 hours...2.5 hours max and I was comforted by that.
7:30 am I watched the blurry walls and lights as they rolled me out of the room to the operating room. I heard Dr. Barnett tell me that I should count to 10 and I only remember getting to about 3 before I was knocked out from them good...good..drugs. Lol.
When I woke up from my surgery it was around 3:30 pm or 4:00 pm. The day of surgery in itself is still very very blurry and unclear to me. I don't remember much. Mainly because somewhere throughout the process I believe I placed some walls up to protect me from the trauma that I knew was ahead of me. But what I do know is that this surgery took a long ass time. Like 6.5 to 7 hours worth of time. How we went from 2-2.5 hours max and end up at 6.5-7 hours is ridiculous to me BUT when I told y'all that things were bad....I meant that things were bad. I have a 4 minute clip of my surgery and it gets gross y'all. So only watch it if you have a tough stomach cause it'll have you cringing.
https://www.dropbox.com/s/mj0juxv146ddtod/difficult%20hysterectomy.mp4?dl=0 (Once you click on the link a second link will pop up that will take you to the video. If you watch this video it starts off with how my endometriosis looked and what it was doing to my insides and at the end of the video it shows how they burned, cleared and removed everything. Again, watch at your own risk).
My ovaries and uterus were covered in endometriosis and ruptured tumors the size of melons. The endometriosis spread to every organ in my body including my heart, lungs, liver, rectum etc. The shit was everywhere...which explains why my body was fighting so hard to keep me a live. I shed a lot of blood. And I mean a lot of blood. The transfusion was on stand by because we were all super sure that I would need one before the end of this surgery BUT to everyone's surprise...I never ended up getting one. In my paperwork of my surgery Dr. Barnett describes my endometriosis as being one of the worst cases of this disease that he has ever seen. Which led to them showing the 6.5 hour long video of surgery in the training classes around the world. (Which I am still sooo shook) about and honored all at the same time.
I received 4 very small incisions in my stomach....again pictures will come. 1 of the incisions is about the size of a thumb and the other 3 are about the size of a finger nail. This procedure hurt like hell!! It hurt to cough..to sit up..to lay down.. to pee.. to poop..to eat.. to blow my nose..to live basically. It hurt to freaking live. I stayed at the hospital overnight because they wanted to make sure that I wouldn't lose any more blood and to keep a close watch on me and once I was able to walk...I was released.
The recovery period was hard and long. The full recovery is 1 year but I was given 6 weeks off to rest and heal my body. If I'm being honest 6 weeks was not enough. I couldn't even sit up let alone function in daily life. I'm a pretty independent woman on my own. I do for myself and handle my own business. I don't require much from anyone because I believe that no one has my best interest for myself better than Moeneak. So when my mother had to wipe me, and bathe me my spirits were shot. This surgery was done and I was yet and still broken. The vulnerability and openness that I had to walk in was tough. I knew that I was not well enough to do anything for myself but still the thought of me relying on my village to perform basic tasks was not as easy as one would think.
I was placed on hormone patches that were put in place to help me with the backlash of hot flashes and to help me regulate my hormones from being sent right into menopause. The only problem with this solution is that I found out that I was highly allergic to the adhesive in the patches; as well as, the adhesive that was covering my incisions. Welp, you guessed it. That was a complete disaster because ALL 4 of my incisions wound up infected. So, on top of the pain from the surgery and trying to regain strength and motivation after this very, very traumatic surgery I am now having to deal with an issue of infected incisions. Yep, you guessed it again.....I'm now back to being defeated. It was so baffling to me how bad thing after bad thing after bad thing was happening to me. I can't tell you how many times I asked God why he wouldn't just let me have 1 day of sunshine?? Why I couldn't have a break from all of the bricks that he kept putting on me?? I mean the anger set in like Angela Bassett when she burned my dudes car up into flames on A Thin Line Between Love and Hate.
About 2.5 or 3 weeks into my recovery I was OVER it. Completely over it, so I started being very independent. I was showering myself, cooking for myself, lifting well over my 5 lb limit, cleaning, doing laundry, driving etc. I was doing EVERYTHING that I know I shouldn't have been doing, but for my own sanity...I needed to do it. It was the only thing that was bringing me out of my funk from these messed up situations. And I thought things were really looking up for me...
I went for my 2 week post surgery check up and I knew that something awful had happened. I was experiencing the most excruciating pain that I had ever encountered. And the pain from endometriosis is tough all on its own...women that I have spoken to described it as being in constant child labor pain with no drugs to help you get through that shit...well, this pain was 10 times worse. I couldn't walk. I couldn't stand up. It hurt to freaking move. Dr. Barnett performed a vaginal test to look and make sure that my stitches were healing in my vagina (which...lets just pause right there. I wasn't even aware that I was cut in my vagina so this entire check up was a complete shock to me). And of course....they weren't. My stitches that were holding my vagina cuff ( which is just the term that is used for after the removal of the uterine specimen, the vaginal incision is sutured closed) together was torn. Honey, at this point of my life I didn't give 2 cares about what he was saying. I WAS OVER THIS ENTIRE JOURNEY. Dr. Barnett let me know that I needed to remain on a very strict regimen in order for the vaginal cuff to heal because I was at a high risk for another surgery because with a torn vaginal cuff there is a possibility that your organs can fall out. I rolled my eyes, told him thank you and walked out.
Sharon, my awesome nurse met me at the door and hugged me because you could feel the amount of fucks that I didn't care about. She handed me my next appointment slip which was 2 weeks later. And 2 weeks later I arrived..the same process..procedure..and the same results. For 10 weeks, I went to biweekly check ups to check on the progression of my vaginal cuff and FINALLY on the 16th week I was 98% healed.....that news was just what I needed......
Speak your truths...let them fall from your mouth or forever hold them and know no peace. -K. Raymer
Friday, March 17, 2017, 5:30 am. I arrive yet again at good old St. Thomas Hospital where I am once again greeted by the most amazing staff known to man kind. I walk back to pre-op change into my hospital clothes and they provided me with these mesh like panties because of course with my luck I would be dealing with shark week the day of my surgery. (Insert real dramatic ass eye roll). Anyways, I change into my surgery attire and what happens next?? You guessed it....let's draw some blood and check these blood counts. Dr. Barnett came into the waiting room area where I was with that same disgruntle look as before which let me know that I was yet again being slapped in the face. Before, he could even deliver the news to me I grabbed his hand and begged him to not cancel my hysterectomy. I was exhausted. Mentally...physically...and spiritually and I knew that there was no way I would be able to endure another round of transfusions. I knew that my fight was over and if I am honest I wasn't willing to fight for anything more. Life...my health...my healing...anything. I was tired and done! I was willing to deal with the consequences of my actions of rejecting the treatment. I knew with blood counts at a 7 that I was going to need a blood transfusion either during or after this surgery. I knew that if this surgery went south that my life would be in more jeopardy than it has ever been. I let Dr. Barnett know that if anything went wrong during this procedure to let nature just run it's course and to hug my mother tight and let her know that all is well with me and with any outcome that presented itself. So I mentally prepared myself for the worst and I'm really glad that I did. It made for a much smoother let down this time around.
He grabbed my hands and spoke these silent words in my ear.....Moeneak, do you mind if we say a prayer with you this morning??? I immediately felt myself surrender to God and his plan for my life. It was like all of my doubts and fears dropped immediately. He prayed and I cried. The nurses prayed and I cried some more. The anesthesiologist prayed and I cried even harder. I was surrounded by some of the most amazing angles that one could ask for. When my eyes opened I was surrounded by about 10-12 people whose eyes were red and wet from the tears that they shed with me. They hugged me tight and wished me well on my new journey. We cleared our eyes because it was show time. Dr. Barnett let me know that the surgery would last about 2 hours...2.5 hours max and I was comforted by that.
7:30 am I watched the blurry walls and lights as they rolled me out of the room to the operating room. I heard Dr. Barnett tell me that I should count to 10 and I only remember getting to about 3 before I was knocked out from them good...good..drugs. Lol.
When I woke up from my surgery it was around 3:30 pm or 4:00 pm. The day of surgery in itself is still very very blurry and unclear to me. I don't remember much. Mainly because somewhere throughout the process I believe I placed some walls up to protect me from the trauma that I knew was ahead of me. But what I do know is that this surgery took a long ass time. Like 6.5 to 7 hours worth of time. How we went from 2-2.5 hours max and end up at 6.5-7 hours is ridiculous to me BUT when I told y'all that things were bad....I meant that things were bad. I have a 4 minute clip of my surgery and it gets gross y'all. So only watch it if you have a tough stomach cause it'll have you cringing.
https://www.dropbox.com/s/mj0juxv146ddtod/difficult%20hysterectomy.mp4?dl=0 (Once you click on the link a second link will pop up that will take you to the video. If you watch this video it starts off with how my endometriosis looked and what it was doing to my insides and at the end of the video it shows how they burned, cleared and removed everything. Again, watch at your own risk).
My ovaries and uterus were covered in endometriosis and ruptured tumors the size of melons. The endometriosis spread to every organ in my body including my heart, lungs, liver, rectum etc. The shit was everywhere...which explains why my body was fighting so hard to keep me a live. I shed a lot of blood. And I mean a lot of blood. The transfusion was on stand by because we were all super sure that I would need one before the end of this surgery BUT to everyone's surprise...I never ended up getting one. In my paperwork of my surgery Dr. Barnett describes my endometriosis as being one of the worst cases of this disease that he has ever seen. Which led to them showing the 6.5 hour long video of surgery in the training classes around the world. (Which I am still sooo shook) about and honored all at the same time.
I received 4 very small incisions in my stomach....again pictures will come. 1 of the incisions is about the size of a thumb and the other 3 are about the size of a finger nail. This procedure hurt like hell!! It hurt to cough..to sit up..to lay down.. to pee.. to poop..to eat.. to blow my nose..to live basically. It hurt to freaking live. I stayed at the hospital overnight because they wanted to make sure that I wouldn't lose any more blood and to keep a close watch on me and once I was able to walk...I was released.
The recovery period was hard and long. The full recovery is 1 year but I was given 6 weeks off to rest and heal my body. If I'm being honest 6 weeks was not enough. I couldn't even sit up let alone function in daily life. I'm a pretty independent woman on my own. I do for myself and handle my own business. I don't require much from anyone because I believe that no one has my best interest for myself better than Moeneak. So when my mother had to wipe me, and bathe me my spirits were shot. This surgery was done and I was yet and still broken. The vulnerability and openness that I had to walk in was tough. I knew that I was not well enough to do anything for myself but still the thought of me relying on my village to perform basic tasks was not as easy as one would think.
I was placed on hormone patches that were put in place to help me with the backlash of hot flashes and to help me regulate my hormones from being sent right into menopause. The only problem with this solution is that I found out that I was highly allergic to the adhesive in the patches; as well as, the adhesive that was covering my incisions. Welp, you guessed it. That was a complete disaster because ALL 4 of my incisions wound up infected. So, on top of the pain from the surgery and trying to regain strength and motivation after this very, very traumatic surgery I am now having to deal with an issue of infected incisions. Yep, you guessed it again.....I'm now back to being defeated. It was so baffling to me how bad thing after bad thing after bad thing was happening to me. I can't tell you how many times I asked God why he wouldn't just let me have 1 day of sunshine?? Why I couldn't have a break from all of the bricks that he kept putting on me?? I mean the anger set in like Angela Bassett when she burned my dudes car up into flames on A Thin Line Between Love and Hate.
About 2.5 or 3 weeks into my recovery I was OVER it. Completely over it, so I started being very independent. I was showering myself, cooking for myself, lifting well over my 5 lb limit, cleaning, doing laundry, driving etc. I was doing EVERYTHING that I know I shouldn't have been doing, but for my own sanity...I needed to do it. It was the only thing that was bringing me out of my funk from these messed up situations. And I thought things were really looking up for me...
I went for my 2 week post surgery check up and I knew that something awful had happened. I was experiencing the most excruciating pain that I had ever encountered. And the pain from endometriosis is tough all on its own...women that I have spoken to described it as being in constant child labor pain with no drugs to help you get through that shit...well, this pain was 10 times worse. I couldn't walk. I couldn't stand up. It hurt to freaking move. Dr. Barnett performed a vaginal test to look and make sure that my stitches were healing in my vagina (which...lets just pause right there. I wasn't even aware that I was cut in my vagina so this entire check up was a complete shock to me). And of course....they weren't. My stitches that were holding my vagina cuff ( which is just the term that is used for after the removal of the uterine specimen, the vaginal incision is sutured closed) together was torn. Honey, at this point of my life I didn't give 2 cares about what he was saying. I WAS OVER THIS ENTIRE JOURNEY. Dr. Barnett let me know that I needed to remain on a very strict regimen in order for the vaginal cuff to heal because I was at a high risk for another surgery because with a torn vaginal cuff there is a possibility that your organs can fall out. I rolled my eyes, told him thank you and walked out.
Sharon, my awesome nurse met me at the door and hugged me because you could feel the amount of fucks that I didn't care about. She handed me my next appointment slip which was 2 weeks later. And 2 weeks later I arrived..the same process..procedure..and the same results. For 10 weeks, I went to biweekly check ups to check on the progression of my vaginal cuff and FINALLY on the 16th week I was 98% healed.....that news was just what I needed......
Speak your truths...let them fall from your mouth or forever hold them and know no peace. -K. Raymer
Wednesday, November 8, 2017
It's all in the surrender, The Story of my transfusion
Friday, March 17, 2017 at 5:30 am I arrived at St. Thomas hospital where I was greeted by an absolutely incredible staff of wonderful men and women. My heart was pumping. And fast. I knew this day was coming and I knew that it was coming faster than I ever imagined. I was taken back to the changing room. My blood was drawn and tested for higher or lower blood counts.....Moeneak Jones....Girl, we can't keep any blood in your body. Your counts are back to a 7...
Let's rewind and take it on back to Wednesday, March 1, 2017. I went in for my consultation on this date because you have to do a walk through and briefing before such a huge surgery like the one I had can be performed. They perform a few blood work tests, check your vitals, give you a crap ton of paperwork to read up on about the pros and cons of your upcoming surgery, they give you steps and rules to take, what products you can and can not use, and what you can and can not do. BLAH. BLAH. BLAH. The nurse comes in to take my blood because previously I was diagnosed with anemia. Not just a slight case of anemia but a sever case of anemia. I know, what else can be wrong with me. Trust me girl...a lot more. Stick with me. The nurse comes in and she finds my veins...quick. And I mean...speed of light quick. I knew that some fishy shit was up because I've been to the doctor more times than the average girl and I've become a pro at having my blood drawn. No one has EVER in the history of checking my blood been able to find a single vein in the first go round...but she does. And she draws 6 or 7 rounds of blood. Wham..Bam. Thank you ma'am. At this point I'm crazy excited and in my mind home girl certainly deserved a raise and a bonus for that awesome, sick and twisted power that she carried. They make me wait for about 45 mins to a hour for my results. I'm high on life because I was only poked one time and I know that I am going to be in the absolute clear for my surgery to be a go on Friday.
HA!!!!! Tricked ya! Slap in the face...after slap in the face. Dr. Barnett calls me to his office with this disgruntle look on his face...and step by step my heart is sinking deeper...and deeper.. he holds my hand. Tight. Drops his head...and whispers. It's not good Moeneak. It's not good at all. In my brain I'm thinking...no shit.. That's exactly why I am having a hysterectomy. I know that it's not good. I know that I am not good. You're going to change all of that and make me good Doctor. For 25-30 mins he runs me all of these HUGE and long medical terms that boil down to the following words...you're dying and your body is literally fighting to keep you alive. In order for me to perform the hysterectomy on you I have to find a way to higher your blood counts because you are currently at an extremely high rate of needing blood transfusions with blood count levels at a 6.5 and 7......
My eyes close...tight as I am trying hard to keep the tears from falling. No remedy is working. They are dropping like rivers of living water. Tear after tear. Sob after sob. Yet again another let down. Yet again another situation that I was not mentally prepared for. Dying?? Body fighting to keep me alive?? Never being able to conceive a child with my husband?? Blood transfusions?? TWICE a week for the next 2 weeks?? Really God?? All of these bricks dropped on me all at once? How do I keep ending up here? Why does this keep happening to me? Dr. Barnett holds me tight and lets me know not to give up hope. He's very confident that the transfusions will work and he's really reassuring about it. He informs me that I'll do a blood transfusion AND an iron infusion because at the rate I was going I needed as much blood as one could get. The blood transfusions were only in place in case the 4 rounds of iron infusions didn't work. We plan for my first transfusion to take place on that following day. I agree..
Friday, March 3, 2017..I show up for my first round of iron transfusions. I arrive at St. Thomas around 8:30 am and the nurse walks me down to the transfusion room. I walk in and it is cold. Freezing cold. I look to my left and my right and I see blood everywhere. Sick people laying on the beds bundled in blankets. The room is dark, but not in a brightness way. You could feel the darkness of energy in the room BUT in the same breath you could also feel the warmth and airiness of the room. You'd really have to be there in the moment and space with me to understand what I felt. My nurse walks me over to my bed for the next few hours...I roll up my sleeves and sent out some good vibes that she finds my veins as quick as the other lady and she does. The infusions starts and she tells me it is a 4-5 hour long transfusion so make myself comfortable. About an hour or an hour and a half into the transfusion I have a break down. I mean a really, really snot running from my nose, tears falling, freaking out full blown panic attack happening break down. I WAS DEFEATED! I WAS DYING. And I knew it. I felt like death. Again, very hard to explain unless you were walking and living through my battles. My energy projected it and others could feel it. I sat in the chair with every thought running through my mind as my nurse came over to inform me that I was sitting in a room with individuals who suffered from different forms of cancer. I cried more and a lot harder. Mainly out of confusion. I tried to wrap my mind around this journey that God set out for me and my heart went cold and numb. I would be lying if I sat here and told you that I wasn't angry with life, with God, with my family and friends. In general. I was hurt. Deeply hurt and that hurt quickly turned into rage and anger. The confusion on why this horrible disease would happen to me was not settling well with me. It hurt to be surrounded around women who walked through this entire journey and season with me all for them to look me in my eyes and express they weren't even sure if they wanted children...it hurt to see the pregnancy announcements of friends, family members, and even strangers. Daily life was a constant reminder to me of how defeated I really was and the tears flowed even more and even harder.
Being surrounded around women who are living in their own truths freely and rightfully so about whether or not they wanted children is tough. Very tough. It's difficult to walk beside women who know your story. Who've experienced first hand the struggles that you've battled with concerning infertility and endometriosis. To me...it was almost like a slap in the face that these women didn't want children. And it was even more hurtful that those words and truths were voiced to me. My walls grew high through my last and final stages of battling with endometriosis. I cut myself off from the world. Mainly because I felt misunderstood and judged.
I have been extremely open about my journey with endometriosis and my struggle with infertility and for the most part the amount of love and encouragement I received from ones who knew me and ones who didn't know me was overwhelming. But when it does rain......you know the saying...it pours.
Life has a way of making you bury your truths because they are not politically correct AND because no one is speaking their truths. The truth is....endometriosis is common. Infertility is more common than we think. The anger and thoughts that come on this journey are real and I am allowed to feel those and have those.
Sweet, sweet Mrs. Emma. Mrs. Emma sat across the way from me as she received her blood transfusions. She could barely walk because she was so sick and fragile. Mrs. Emma had some spirits that were so high you wouldn't even believe that she was battling cancer and fighting for every second of her life. Sweet Mrs. Emma came over and wrapped her weak and fragile arms around my neck when she saw me breaking down. She offered me a Twix candy bar and volunteered to sit with me for the remainder of my transfusion. Mrs. Emma was sent to me from God and I know that from the depths of my heart. Our stories were very similar. It was actually very scary how similar the stories were. Our only difference is Mrs. Emma was blessed with amazing children while fighting through her endometriosis and cancer battle. I know because she introduced me to them all as we sat and ate cheeseburgers that were dry as sand (her words and not mine) Lol. My transfusion ended and I was sad to leave but happy all at the same time. I knew that Mrs. Emma was sent for me from God. And it hurt to think that there was a chance that she might not be in her chair the next time time I came for my transfusion...I went through 4 rounds of transfusions. 1 Blood transfusion and 3 iron transfusions. And each time I went back to the cancer transfusion center I felt more and more free. The same men and women met me ever week and Sweet, Mrs Emma was there to welcome me with arms wide open every week. These men and women had become a breath of fresh air because no matter how bad I THOUGHT I had it....they were a constant reminder that it could always be much much worse.
Let's rewind and take it on back to Wednesday, March 1, 2017. I went in for my consultation on this date because you have to do a walk through and briefing before such a huge surgery like the one I had can be performed. They perform a few blood work tests, check your vitals, give you a crap ton of paperwork to read up on about the pros and cons of your upcoming surgery, they give you steps and rules to take, what products you can and can not use, and what you can and can not do. BLAH. BLAH. BLAH. The nurse comes in to take my blood because previously I was diagnosed with anemia. Not just a slight case of anemia but a sever case of anemia. I know, what else can be wrong with me. Trust me girl...a lot more. Stick with me. The nurse comes in and she finds my veins...quick. And I mean...speed of light quick. I knew that some fishy shit was up because I've been to the doctor more times than the average girl and I've become a pro at having my blood drawn. No one has EVER in the history of checking my blood been able to find a single vein in the first go round...but she does. And she draws 6 or 7 rounds of blood. Wham..Bam. Thank you ma'am. At this point I'm crazy excited and in my mind home girl certainly deserved a raise and a bonus for that awesome, sick and twisted power that she carried. They make me wait for about 45 mins to a hour for my results. I'm high on life because I was only poked one time and I know that I am going to be in the absolute clear for my surgery to be a go on Friday.
HA!!!!! Tricked ya! Slap in the face...after slap in the face. Dr. Barnett calls me to his office with this disgruntle look on his face...and step by step my heart is sinking deeper...and deeper.. he holds my hand. Tight. Drops his head...and whispers. It's not good Moeneak. It's not good at all. In my brain I'm thinking...no shit.. That's exactly why I am having a hysterectomy. I know that it's not good. I know that I am not good. You're going to change all of that and make me good Doctor. For 25-30 mins he runs me all of these HUGE and long medical terms that boil down to the following words...you're dying and your body is literally fighting to keep you alive. In order for me to perform the hysterectomy on you I have to find a way to higher your blood counts because you are currently at an extremely high rate of needing blood transfusions with blood count levels at a 6.5 and 7......
My eyes close...tight as I am trying hard to keep the tears from falling. No remedy is working. They are dropping like rivers of living water. Tear after tear. Sob after sob. Yet again another let down. Yet again another situation that I was not mentally prepared for. Dying?? Body fighting to keep me alive?? Never being able to conceive a child with my husband?? Blood transfusions?? TWICE a week for the next 2 weeks?? Really God?? All of these bricks dropped on me all at once? How do I keep ending up here? Why does this keep happening to me? Dr. Barnett holds me tight and lets me know not to give up hope. He's very confident that the transfusions will work and he's really reassuring about it. He informs me that I'll do a blood transfusion AND an iron infusion because at the rate I was going I needed as much blood as one could get. The blood transfusions were only in place in case the 4 rounds of iron infusions didn't work. We plan for my first transfusion to take place on that following day. I agree..
Friday, March 3, 2017..I show up for my first round of iron transfusions. I arrive at St. Thomas around 8:30 am and the nurse walks me down to the transfusion room. I walk in and it is cold. Freezing cold. I look to my left and my right and I see blood everywhere. Sick people laying on the beds bundled in blankets. The room is dark, but not in a brightness way. You could feel the darkness of energy in the room BUT in the same breath you could also feel the warmth and airiness of the room. You'd really have to be there in the moment and space with me to understand what I felt. My nurse walks me over to my bed for the next few hours...I roll up my sleeves and sent out some good vibes that she finds my veins as quick as the other lady and she does. The infusions starts and she tells me it is a 4-5 hour long transfusion so make myself comfortable. About an hour or an hour and a half into the transfusion I have a break down. I mean a really, really snot running from my nose, tears falling, freaking out full blown panic attack happening break down. I WAS DEFEATED! I WAS DYING. And I knew it. I felt like death. Again, very hard to explain unless you were walking and living through my battles. My energy projected it and others could feel it. I sat in the chair with every thought running through my mind as my nurse came over to inform me that I was sitting in a room with individuals who suffered from different forms of cancer. I cried more and a lot harder. Mainly out of confusion. I tried to wrap my mind around this journey that God set out for me and my heart went cold and numb. I would be lying if I sat here and told you that I wasn't angry with life, with God, with my family and friends. In general. I was hurt. Deeply hurt and that hurt quickly turned into rage and anger. The confusion on why this horrible disease would happen to me was not settling well with me. It hurt to be surrounded around women who walked through this entire journey and season with me all for them to look me in my eyes and express they weren't even sure if they wanted children...it hurt to see the pregnancy announcements of friends, family members, and even strangers. Daily life was a constant reminder to me of how defeated I really was and the tears flowed even more and even harder.
Being surrounded around women who are living in their own truths freely and rightfully so about whether or not they wanted children is tough. Very tough. It's difficult to walk beside women who know your story. Who've experienced first hand the struggles that you've battled with concerning infertility and endometriosis. To me...it was almost like a slap in the face that these women didn't want children. And it was even more hurtful that those words and truths were voiced to me. My walls grew high through my last and final stages of battling with endometriosis. I cut myself off from the world. Mainly because I felt misunderstood and judged.
I have been extremely open about my journey with endometriosis and my struggle with infertility and for the most part the amount of love and encouragement I received from ones who knew me and ones who didn't know me was overwhelming. But when it does rain......you know the saying...it pours.
Life has a way of making you bury your truths because they are not politically correct AND because no one is speaking their truths. The truth is....endometriosis is common. Infertility is more common than we think. The anger and thoughts that come on this journey are real and I am allowed to feel those and have those.
Sweet, sweet Mrs. Emma. Mrs. Emma sat across the way from me as she received her blood transfusions. She could barely walk because she was so sick and fragile. Mrs. Emma had some spirits that were so high you wouldn't even believe that she was battling cancer and fighting for every second of her life. Sweet Mrs. Emma came over and wrapped her weak and fragile arms around my neck when she saw me breaking down. She offered me a Twix candy bar and volunteered to sit with me for the remainder of my transfusion. Mrs. Emma was sent to me from God and I know that from the depths of my heart. Our stories were very similar. It was actually very scary how similar the stories were. Our only difference is Mrs. Emma was blessed with amazing children while fighting through her endometriosis and cancer battle. I know because she introduced me to them all as we sat and ate cheeseburgers that were dry as sand (her words and not mine) Lol. My transfusion ended and I was sad to leave but happy all at the same time. I knew that Mrs. Emma was sent for me from God. And it hurt to think that there was a chance that she might not be in her chair the next time time I came for my transfusion...I went through 4 rounds of transfusions. 1 Blood transfusion and 3 iron transfusions. And each time I went back to the cancer transfusion center I felt more and more free. The same men and women met me ever week and Sweet, Mrs Emma was there to welcome me with arms wide open every week. These men and women had become a breath of fresh air because no matter how bad I THOUGHT I had it....they were a constant reminder that it could always be much much worse.
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