Surgery

Three weeks ago today I had surgery.

I had a 7+cm gap between my abdominal muscles. So instead of the muscles being joined, I had empty space, the size of a peach or a baseball running the entire length of my torso. 

The space filled with fascia and scar tissue and an umbilical hernia occurred, leaving me pained and achey, and my tummy distended - forever pregnant. 

Since 2018, after I gave birth to my son,  I was essentially led to believe from my doctor at the time that I “just had weight to lose.” And I “really needed to stop worrying and start exercising more.” 

Only now, on the other side of this surgery am I really starting to process the effect of those words on my psyche. You think, “Well. She’s a doctor; she knows.” 

She did not know. 

And I was left defeated, self-conscious, confused, hurting and had about a dime’s worth of self-worth. 

I think healthcare workers are amazing - stoic in their mission. 

But sometimes, like anything, you get a not so great one. 

I’ve had better doctors since then, who treated me with tenderness and care. Pregnant with my daughter, I had nurses who sat and listened to me. Who actually turned the computer screen towards me and explained what each graph and beep and buzz meant.

Eventually, after succumbing to every postpartum marketing scheme under the sun, 

I picked myself up by the bootstraps. 

And I figured it out. On my own. 

I did the reading. I did the research. I talked to friends. I met with surgeons. I asked my questions. 

I documented everything. All four surgeons unanimously agreed the only option to fix my broken body was through surgery. And so I had the surgery that insurance deems “elective” and only covered a small fraction of the cost. 

I am angry, but I am also grateful. Joyful. Relieved. HAPPY. So happy. 

There is a lesson in here. 

I used to believe if I asked questions the doctors would get irritated and think I was being combative. I didn’t want to give the impression I was challenging their knowledge. Didn’t want to appear disrespectful or defensive. But somewhere between my two pregnancies I figured it out. 

You are allowed to be your own advocate. You have permission to Speak up and out when something doesn’t feel right. It is okay to Reach deep into your soul and grab your voice and empower yourself to ask your questions. You can do this with kindness and good intention and with grace and respect.

You GOT this. 

You can DO this!

 Let’s make a gentler and more transparent experience for women moving forward. Especially underserved and underrepresented women. 

I’ll see you out there. 💪🏼💪🏽💪🏾💪🏿