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.
No comments:
Post a Comment