Almost three weeks later and I am healing well.
Despite a lot of paranoia about infections, two of my wounds have lost their scabs and are now look similar to scratches. All bruises have / are disappearing and fading fast. My belly button is still quite messy, and of course, my inside stitches — I can’t tell how well they are healing, but I was told it would take up to three months for them to fully heal.
I guess what I’m saying is, it’s god damn impressive how great bodies are and how much trauma they can take and recover from. Not to mention how quickly they do it. (I also can’t wait to be 100% — which ultimately, will be very soon.)
Tomorrow is a road trip kind of day and I’ll be seeing my favourites for the first time in a long while. Though I am constantly exhausted as my body is fighting to heal and, the pain is growing, as are the bruises (I have a south america shaped bruise inexplicably growing across my back — battered doesn’t describe my poor body right now) I am excited.
Four hours in the car is going to ache, but improvising with pillows across my abdomen and as many pain killers as I can handle, I’m sure it’s going to be worth it. Recovery has been a bore, and I can’t take sitting indoors much lonnger — my fingers are crossed the sun will come out and play, too.
Yesterday marked exactly one month since I was rushed to hospital with suspected appendicitis.
Yesterday I also received surgery to take out the ovarian cyst that has been beating my insides for 2 - 3 years, unnoticed. I lost my right ovary which was beyond the point of repair and my womb has been slightly damaged in the process. I’m not going to lie: it’s been terrifying, but now I’m at home recovering I feel okay. Sore, but accepting.
Tomorrow is one year with my gnome.
It’s strange: today I woke with a text saying, “On this day a year ago, I was terrified about the idea of not seeing you again, and desperate to kiss you. I’m glad I did.” We’ve had a lot thrown at us, from illness to insult and all the in betweens, but in the quiet when we are dancing (or rather — jumping) around your living room to songs we both love, snuggling on the sofa laughing hard at our awful television choices, on our road trips talking of wanderlust and longings, or preparing dinner together with our little rituals, is when I realise it is more than worth it.
I could ask for little more.
This part of me is not real (by a freedom craver’s diary)
It’s been pretty eventful recently, and I am ridiculously overwhelmed. There’s a lot for my head to get around and yeah, I’m scared. After being well and truly messed around by the NHS over the space of three weeks, I went private and within my first consultation, the problem was found. An Ovarian cyst, 10cm by 8cms twisting against my right ovary, possibly deeming it useless. How did they miss that? It’s an awful feeling, thinking your body is working against you. When a doctor deems you an “urgency” and explains that you could rupture at any time, which could lead to serious consequences: yeah, I’m scared. I’ve become so much more aware of the movement and the pain, I guess because it’s so foreign to me: but I’m going for surgery soon, and I can’t wait to no longer be burdened by this worry: and I’m slowly getting used to the idea that I’m about to lose one of my ovaries.
Man, I’m just so god damn grateful for my support system, for my parents for taking out a private policy for both my brother and myself, and for finally being taken seriously.
(On a better note, I received a first overall in my first year of University, and I am over the moon and extremely proud that my hard work paid off. Always a bright side.)