The Day I Had 20+ Fibroid Tumors Removed From My Uterus
So many thoughts running through my head. Did I get everything done that I needed to? I hope Aaron’s sleeping right now. He really needs his rest to get through the day. What if this is my last night here on Earth? Have I done everything I wanted to?
Prayers for protection and comfort for my husband started going up like smoke signals. While there was some fear rolling around in the crevices of my mind, I felt oddly at peace. I had fully weighed the cost of this surgery. I knew the risks. After a month of a full spectrum of emotion, I had finally come to terms with what I was really doing. Laying my life down in front of the Lord as a sacrifice. I knew from that point on, whatever happened was at the mercy of His will for me. No matter if I passed away from complications, woke up without a uterus, or came out of the surgery perfectly fine, it would be His good and perfect will. I shed tears thinking about all the possible outcomes. Sad tears for my loved ones if I didn’t make it. Sad tears for my dead dreams if I woke up and they had to take everything. Happy tears for if I woke up with everything in tact and a new life ahead of me. People say God is just a vice. But not for me. That night He physically held my hand, cradled me in His arms, and wept each kind of tear with me. I was given the comfort that could not be given here on Earth. I felt Him so tangibly; He was as real to me as Aaron that night.
When the alarm went off, I quickly silenced it and prayed it didn’t wake my sweet husband. I wanted to give him some extra sleep while I prepared myself for the big day. I walked through my checklist in my mind, making sure to leave nothing unmarked. Take my heart meds, but with just a tiny sip of water…no more. Check. Pack a bag for the next few days, but keep it simple. Check. Make sure everything is off. Check. Take one big breath and a look around because everything will be completely different the next time you come back here. Check.
Our dear friend had joined us the night before to be present with and for us in our time of need. It gave me great comfort to know that Aaron wouldn’t be alone while I was in surgery. (Aaron’s dad and another dear friend were going to meet us at the hospital as well.) While our friend drove with Aaron in the front, I sat in the back seat alone with my thoughts. We drove through the city–my city–in the darkness of the morning and I couldn’t help but enjoy her beauty in such a precious, nostalgic way.
We arrived at the hospital 15 minutes early and I was surprised by the eery calm that roamed up and down the halls. I knew exactly what I was supposed to do–had rehearsed it with the nurse a few days before. I walked into the surgery waiting room, dialed the number on the card and sat in the chair waiting for the nurse to come for me. She came quickly…faster than I was ready for. I hugged my loved ones (but not Aaron, because he would be able to come back and see me before I went into the OR) and followed the nurse. We walked back into a “waiting room” of sorts. One long row of beds with people waiting was just the sight I needed to shock me back into reality. Oh my gosh, this is really happening. My mind went through a “fight or flight” moment, but I knew there was no turning back now.
The nurses sensed my anxiety and talked sweetly to me as they handed me my vacuum-like gown and pointed me towards a bathroom. “Opening towards the back, dear.” I knew the moments in the bathroom were going to be my final moments alone, so I took my time. Opening towards the back. Don’t forget to take your nose ring out. Might as well go to the bathroom since I don’t know when I’ll be able to again. I was starting to get scared. I bit my lip and fought a fresh round of tears as I remembered a conversation with my husband the day before.
“Honey?”
“Yea?”
“I just want you to know that I think you’re very brave to be going through this.”
Me? Brave? I never thought about it like that. I just knew it had to be done…there wasn’t any other choice. But his words comforted me now. And as I was sitting there, I remembered a treasured line from the movie We Bought a Zoo:
“You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it.”
Though I always misquote/mis-paraphrase it and it comes out, “Just 10 seconds of bravery.” I guess I did that subconsciously because 20 seconds feels like an eternity. And bravery and courage are basically the same, right? I digress.
I came out of the bathroom, hopped into my bed and watched the nurses, like busy little bees, start working around me in a frenzy. Hooking me to machines, ventilating my gown (really cool!), checking my vitals. Eventually, three nurses later, they were able to get an IV in my hand (ouch!!) and took the blood they needed for my final tests. It was quickly sent to the lab and then the anesthesiologist came in and we went through the regime of questions he had for me. Fortunately my heart was cooperating and he cleared me (officially) for surgery. Then came the news that my doctor wanted to move the surgery up. (Eek!) So now we just had to wait for my blood work to come back with the “OK” and we’d be ready to go. My doctor came in and we had a nice chat. He is so calm and peaceful that for the first time I felt confident that I was going to come out of the surgery alive. I was no longer concerned about dying. So by the time Aaron came in, I was at peace. He was a nervous wreck (naturally) and the doctor tried to lighten up the mood a bit with a joke, which did make Aaron laugh. I was eternally grateful to my doctor for doing that. While everyone danced around us, Aaron and I held hands and snuggled. I tried so hard to transfer some of my calmness to him, but it wasn’t working…which made me tear up. I had to look away multiple times because the tears threatened to give way and I wanted to be strong for him. I didn’t want his last memory to be my face filled with fear. I wanted him to see me calm and at peace.
Soon the results came back and I was 100% cleared for surgery. Aaron and I said our “see ya soon’s” and kissed and then he was gone. Now it was just me, the doctors, and Jesus.
They wheeled me down some halls and we went by some other operating rooms. I heard some rock music blaring from one of them, which made me smile because for the first time I saw something that reminded me of Grey’s Anatomy. Oddly enough, it comforted me. I pretended that Dr. Shepherd was somewhere nearby, flashing his pearly whites and saying, “It’s a good day to save lives.”
Soon we were in a bright white room with huge bug-like lights above my head. A cold, sterile silver table awaited me. In this moment, I felt like I switched from being a person, to just a patient. And all of a sudden I was very, very frightened. They helped me onto the table and before I knew it, they were injected liquid into my hand and it burned so badly I thought my hand was going to fall off. I started crying and saying, “Ow, ow” over and over. I vaguely remember a man(?) rubbing my hand and then it went black.
I remember a few times coming to and I was in so much pain I couldn’t do anything but groan and say, “Ow” some more. Then I would slip away again. That happened a few times until finally I could open my eyes and I saw a nurse standing in front of me. The first words out of my mouth (that I had practiced and somehow remembered to ask) were, “Do I still have a uterus?”
My doctor appeared out of nowhere and answered me gently, “Yes, you still have a uterus but it has 45 stitches in it right now and you need to rest.” Comforted by the results, though sort of confused as to why there were 45 stitches, I slipped back into unconsciousness.
When I finally came to again, it felt like hours later. A new nurse was by my bed and as soon as she saw me waking up, asked me how my pain was. I was so groggy, but still felt like myself and everything still felt and looked the same so I couldn’t quite process that I had just had surgery. I took the next few moments to pull myself together and then doctor came back to see me.
“Nichole, your surgery went very well. But the large fibroid caused a lot of damage to your uterus. We won’t know how much until it heals up and we can do an ultrasound of it. We also removed a lot of other little fibroids so there’s lots of little cuts all over. You’re going to be in a lot of pain for awhile so just take it easy. I left pictures with Aaron but just to warn you, it’s really shocking.” I had asked him before the surgery if I could see pictures. I’m a bit science-nerdy like that. 😉
While I tried to process the news, the nurse worked hard to keep my pain in check. Eventually things started feeling a bit better and they surprised me by bringing Aaron back to see me. They said I wouldn’t get to see him until I got a room, so this was a very welcomed surprise. The relief on his face said everything and he gave me a kiss and the nurses gave us some privacy. He asked me if I had seen the pictures. I told him I hadn’t and then shared what my doctor had told me. Then Aaron said words I never ever expected anyone to ever say about me. “Nikki, they removed 20 tumors from your uterus.”
What?! Surely this was a joke. But obviously my husband wouldn’t lie to me. He said, “The doctor asked me if you’ve had to miss a lot of work. I told him you had and he told me he didn’t even know how you’ve been able to function. He said you must be a strong woman to have been able to carry all of these around.”
Me? Strong? Ha. If he could have heard me belly-aching the last few months, maybe he would have rethought his choice of words. But I silently thanked him for thinking the best of me.
The nurses came over and interrupted us to let us know that I had finally been assigned a room and they were going to move me. They encouraged Aaron to go get some lunch and told him I’d be in room 412 and he could come see me when he got back. As soon as he left, they wheeled me through the long windy halls, and into an elevator. I still couldn’t tell you how to get to that room, but I can tell you that somewhere between leaving my house that morning and hanging out in the recovery room after surgery, I got my fight back. Like a rushing river breaking through a dam, I suddenly had the strength and the willpower to do the impossible. So when we got to the room, the nurses told me I was going to have to scoot over to my bed. They warned me it would hurt, but I knew I could do it. I drew strength from 10 seconds of bravery, lifted my bottom and pushed through the pain to get onto my bed. The nurses were blown away by my awesomeness. (And I must admit, I was too.)
Though I had just had a massive surgery, I was still awake and alert and feeling pretty good. Friends and family came to visit and Aaron eventually showed me the PICTURES. I had to take a minute or two to process that all of it had just come from me. In all my research leading up to this surgery, I had seen pictures like this. So it didn’t shock me to see what they look like. But what shocked me was that these were not photos from a stranger…they were photos of things that came from me. I suddenly had an “out of body” experience and became very inspired by and in awe of myself. If I could overcome this, surely I could overcome anything.
As I snuggled into my hospital bed that night and Aaron collapsed into his cot, I knew that everything was going to be alright. I knew I had a long, painful road of recovery ahead of me, but I wasn’t afraid. I knew with the Lord, the help of my friends and family, and my newfound willpower we could get through it with flying colors. That night as I drifted off to sleep, I dreamed of the new life ahead of me. A life without constant pain and incessant suffering. I imagined my body returning back to its normal size and even dared to dream of myself fit and healthy for the first time in years. I dreamed of a world where everything was possible…and for the first time in a really long time, I didn’t have to go to sleep for it to be real.
