Acceptance and heart-break : The first two steps in my endometriosis journey
Yes , I accept.
The simple and powerful mantra that has been helpful to me over the last couple of weeks in which my life turned completely upside down.
I was diagnosed with a large ovarian cyst weighing almost a pound , three weeks ago. From the first ultrasound in the hospital to today, everything has changed , forcing me to really rethink what is it that I hold dear in my life , and how do I not let go of it in this chaos.
What changed exactly ?
- My tumour tested positive for a cancer marker.
- I was told my ovaries and uterus would be removed if the tumour was cancerous , and there was no way to know that before the surgery. “Here are your consent forms”, declared a nurse matter-of-factly, shoving the sheath of papers towards me. So much for choice.
- My boyfriend of more than a year dumped me on my first visit to the hospital. It was too much to take for him.
- Only my parents and anyone I am related with by blood, we with me through the process. Blood is thicker than water, as proved to me by this pulsating tumour growing within my abdomen.
- I underwent a surgery to remove the tumour. The good news : it’s not cancer.
- The bad news : my right ovary was removed. The cyst had taken over all of its function , and there wasn’t way to just remove the cyst and leave my ovary intact, I was told. I didn’t have a choice.
- The worse news: I will nee to take drugs that induce menopause so if and when am ready to conceive , I will have my remaining eggs to dip into. A price I need to pay today for an option in the future, which may or may not present itself. But to have an option , I would need to pay dearly.
- Oh, and my condition is called endometriosis and there is no cure.
That’s a lot to process and reflect on, and has brought me to crossroads I never imagined I would be at.
Yes, I accept.
A simple, powerful statement. Not a sign of weakness or giving in, but hopefully a mantra for coming to difficult crossroads and choosing where to go next.
Atleast it temporarily lulls me into deceiving myself that I have control over what happens next.