…a month I am sure never to forget for several reasons. One of them being the alien assassins that reside in my womb; little tumors, fibroids in my uterus.
On a scale of 1 to 10, the pain was at 99. When it got to a 100, I prayed and blacked out. Not that I wasn’t praying before. But at this point my throat was sore from moaning, groaning and screaming, I was exhausted and the University Hospital (UHWI) doctors were doing absolutely nothing to deal with my symptomatic fibroid issue. And when I say nothing, I mean diddly squat!
The pain, not discomfort, started 4:30 that evening. By midnight, I was at the hospital and no one had stuck me full of voltaren, Motrin, Morphine or with any kind of painkiller to kill this alien assassin in my tummy. I suffered through eight hours of torturous pain and I was not in labor; even though, I would have felt better, emotionally, if I was. I was barely conscious and death was not paying me a visit either, so I knew I would be living through this traumatic ordeal.
When I woke at 12:30 a.m. the doctors were amazed I was no longer in pain. No thanks to them of course!
They poked and prodded my tummy and the fibroids in my uterus, took urine, which they could finally get and they gave me a prescription which at this point I thought unnecessary.
All I could think about was that if I had a burst appendix or some other critically serious stomach issue, I would be as dead as nit. Just like the man who died on the floor of Spanish Town Hospital a couple weeks ago. “Bwoy, the Jamaican healthcare system is somin else”.
In great times of difficulty you find out who people are. It is during such times you find out the true character of the people around you. My boyfriend at the time, failed horribly. Ultimately, this lead to the demise of our relationship.
I could never stay with someone who treated me with anger, frustration, disrespect and utter disregard when I am seemingly near death. I am always saying, the true person will come out sooner or later. Sometimes, I hate to always be so ‘discerningly right’.
At work that evening, I also got a good idea of whether managers were genuinely concerned about their employees. Not one of the three, who passed me in distress came to my rescue.
Not the most saintly VP, not the harassing AVP or the 7th Day Adventist who asks how I am, everyday. This only added to my lack of faith and distrust in people, who claim to be Christians and give Christianity a bad name.
Regardless, I proved myself to myself. I managed to walk, bare the pain, drive and still bare the pain. I didn’t get to the hospital until 6 hours after my alien fibroids executed vengeance on my mortal body. My car, proved its worth and clocked over 165 kph, to get me to the hospital, later that night.
Don’t worry, I wasn’t driving. Someone else got to test the mettle of my ride. Yay Mazda!
More information is provided in my book. See details below.
Check out her book Fibroids: The Alien Assassins in My Body
In this testimonial, Denise shares intimate details from her childhood through to adulthood. She discusses, how fibroids or as they are also called myomas, fibromyomas, or leiomyomas, have affected her daily life and the adjustments that she was forced to make. After reading this book, women will become more informed about a disease that affects 80 percent of women; while making life miserable for one in four.
Copyright © 2017, Denise N. Fyffe, The Island Journal