I don't even really know how to start writing something like this, not only because it is so new to me, but because there are so many women in the world, and potentially men, in a different but equal finality, that have heard the same words I did. And who sit at home, or at work or on the bus with tears filling their eyes and soul. I would never want what I feel, to try and explain their pain, I think this kind of finality can only belong to the one that has heard it.
It is not death, or cancer, nor any other terrible disease, and for that I should be grateful. And it does in so many ways explain the inexplicable ill health I have felt for the past two years, but with that comes a double edge sword that cuts my heart in two. Last week during a laparoscopy to remove a cyst from my left ovary they found that I had extensive endometriosis. I had heard the word before of course, an old friends' sister has it, it was painful for her growing up, and more so for the other complications that come from it, but I never full-on investigated what it entailed.
How it was, so delicately delivered to me post-op, was that it was rather extensive and that all the bleeding had made my ovary and fallopian tube, and everything around it stick together like mush. The photos that came with the description assisted with understanding the complexity of the issue and the surgeons' explanation that she had not tried to do anything further because she wanted me to be aware of how severe the problem was, all painted the not-so-pretty picture. 'I didn't want you to wake up and realise that you had nothing left', her words so honest and so direct in the reality of the situation, in any other moment I would have thought, fuck…. fuck you all - please put me back to sleep. But it wasn't as horrific as it sounds. When she came to my bed in recovery, her and another 3-4 women, who were also part of the surgical team from that morning, surrounded my bed, closed the curtain and held my hand with the delivery of such shitty news. I will forever be grateful to them for that; as the doctor gave it to me strait, I did not feel like a number or a patient, I felt like she felt my pain, and for that I am so relieved.
Since then the reaction from my friends and family, but for a couple has been the same. You are lucky you've already had children, at least you'll get better now. Wow, I apologise to all the women in the world that have heard that line, because its like a knife that pulls out again to leave another wound, but this time you are awake to feel it.
In truth I hadn't really thought about having another baby until about a year and a half ago when I fell in love with 'he who cannot be named'; he didn't love me, in fact it turned out he belonged to someone else, but my love for him never faltered. Still reigns strong. And for whatever reason it became such a dream to have forever after with him, I even dreamt (several times) about a little darling girl with his blond curls and blue eyes, and named her Lily Alena in my dreams. Crazy, perhaps, I will stick with hopeful. I never really, truly met anyone with whom I knew this is forever, and no matter how much I argued with my subconscious, my heart always won out. It was like, my head and my body thought it was crazy, but my heart knew the moment he walked into the room. In the end the heart won out, and it cries often, missing him like crazy, while the head slaps it silly (in my imagination), for it to get on with it… but the heart is stronger and always wins out.
Ok, so as per usual I am rambling and loosing the plot… sorry.
Reality kicked in though, and all of a sudden the words that fill my head, 'there will never be a Lily' , don't come from my psyche trying to keep me sane, but from my body telling me its done for. The hope, the possibility is gone. And to be honest there are no words that can fill that void. 'Lily will never be'. I am 40, almost 41, and as my dad pointed out at the sound of the news, I am getting too old to have any more children anyway; and he is perhaps right. Perhaps, even if the universe was behind my love for him and we were miraculously re-united and made a family, it wouldn't work. I get that, totally, but the finality of it with losing everything inside, me makes it somewhat worse. It's like its done, done and done. And it hurts, it pains in a way that cannot be explained or understood by anyone else but the one who has heard those final words.
Tomorrow, well later today actually, I cannot sleep even with the sleeping pills, my doctor will give me all the hard fact, face down, cards on the table and though she said she will try to save the ovary if possible and she'll find the best doctor on the planet if she cannot. Her words were so honest in their finality. I hope there are some good news tomorrow, but if the skies are grey, I will in a while walk tall again. Lily will have to become a story in a book, and the sun will shine in time. As 'he' would say 'find the rainbows in the everyday'. Today though, my sweet, if its ok with you, I'll lay back down and equal the pain in my tummy to the pain in my soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment