So many days in the last month I have woken up in a dark sea of pain. I would take my painkillers, then feel drowsy and foreign to myself. Nothing was functioning. I was like a shadow, my brain so foggy I couldn’t finish a sentence I had just started. I didn’t even care to. My digestion so shot by the painkillers that my belly looked like I was pregnant. The pain was stealing all of the precious moments I had lined up—writing to you included.
Pain is like a prison. It steals everything away from you. You can’t live, you can’t think. When you’re in pain, your whole self is pain.
My fibroids were dying—yes. But in an absolute rage.
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What do you do when a voice inside of you says no? Doctors all across the world had been telling me for years that I should get rid of my uterus because I had too many fibroids. But each time, a little voice said “no, no, no.”
I kept trying to buy time before the inevitable. Seeing different doctors. Buying time meant suffering. Suffering through debilitating …