It feels like a elephant sitting in my chest, I have a fever nearly 103 degrees. I recovered from the laparoscopic uterine removal for three weeks, and after repeatedly unavailable bleeding for more than one month, it was more than one month after repeated occurrence. By the age of 40, my uterus had taken away three children and took away the scar organization from the three cesarean section. The first occurred in my 18th birthday, the final was the month of my thirties and a month.
Because my growing children graduated from college and my youngest child in middle school, I know that my parenting is behind me in my body and emotion. My body cannot bear the weight of another pregnancy. Therefore, in the past seven years, I have been breeding. Now, the quarterly DEPO-PROVERA lens is combined with the daily low-dose estrogen drugs to combat intermittent and extended bleeding. I started to experience preventive drugs about two years later. Although my gynecologist transferred me to many experts for testing, the doctor found that no more than a few small benign fibroids could cause these benign fibroids to cause this continuous problem.
When the latest bleeding began in February last year, although I used different types of birthday, it seemed to continue. That is when I know that I must change. Recently, I also saw the battle of one of my closest friends and recovered from cancer. This was only discovered when she landed at the hospital with similar problems. This led to her own uterine resection, and then chemotherapy for several months. I was very happy to report that she was still recovering during the relief, and the rehabilitation was good-but at the time, it brought shocking worry, and I might walk along the same road. To avoid this possibility, I chose uterine cutting. I no longer want to worry about the quarterly shots and daily medicines. My family is ready, and my uterus has "carried out business closure".
Literally, I opened my eyes for surgery. I never really looked around or other three times, and I found that I brought my life into the world. I noticed its real situation for the first time. I have never seen so many metals in my life. I put down my body, started from a hundred countdown, and then gradually entered deep sleep. A few hours later, I woke up and had a lot of calmness.
When I was taken downstairs waiting for my husband, my body felt heavy and light at the same time. Through my system, a large number of drugs help, I send it to the car-with a lot of help from the hospital staff in some way. However, at home, I started to feel all the pain and pain of my decision. My devout husband and eldest son helped me look at the stairs on the stairs of Machu Picchu to the bedroom on the second floor. When I cried painfully, they took me literally to the last flight.
My husband was full of love to stuff me on the bed, bringing me the first round of prescription painkillers. I drifted over to sleep, and I woke up just trying to wash a few feet far away toilets. In the next few days, my rehabilitation frenzy, my mother moved into the room of another son in the next two weeks to help me and my family return to my husband to work. Some days are good, some are not. I remember that after a few days of recovery, I felt good enough. I could risk my mother on the first floor (yes, we are the intergenerational home), her wonderful cooking-just found that she was too weak to make the building cannot make the building cannot make the building. There is no help.
After three weeks of recovery, I have been to the doctor to make a previous date and start driving to send my sixth grade students. I cook from school and my family. Essence My amazing mother returned to the safety of her home and got a rest all night. Everything seems to go smoothly.
Until that afternoon, when my burn soared, everything was injured. I called the doctor's office, a message and an email. Fortunately, she quickly called back. She told me to go directly to the emergency room and let them know that I have recently performed uterine removal. I couldn't drive, I took a taxi with my eldest son, raised me, and went to the hospital.
A few hours later, I only had a classification time, and then I went to the so -called "white area". It was very similar to an emergency care waiting room, and was with the patients and the accompanying caregivers. My name was finally called. I was taken to a test area. The doctor of the emergency room evaluated me, took the urine sample, draw blood, and ordered MRI to see if I had some trauma in the area where I had a home in the uterus. At that time, I was taken to another part of the emergency room. A more active and clear part, the patient's bed was doubled, twice, and even lined up on the side of the nurse station.
When the technicians instructed me to place my body and try to hold my breath, I lay on another table. It is almost impossible to breathe overall, but fortunately, the procedure is fast, and I was escorted back to the white area again. At this time, a few hours have passed, and the road has been made during the day. My husband sent me a text message saying he was there and tried to find me in the emergency room. Each patient only allows one visitor. After this popular, the mask needs the world, and my son rarely exchanges him by me.
This time, the waiting area was completely full, and we found that we were sitting outside the corridor outside the examination area and waiting for the results. Time is dripping, and pain becomes unbearable. My husband went to the nearby nurse station and could not defend himself, instead of talking in a low voice, and seeking help. A nurse came to check my life and went to the doctor. They called on OB/GYN experts to check me. During the fast exam, I didn't find anything incredible. I was taken back to the corridor and waited for my MRI results. In my opinion, I re -broadcast the incident of the day. I want to know if I am overworked, and I come back too quickly to return to normal activities.
In the end, a doctor came to me and my husband. At night, it must be almost eleven. From 4 pm, I have been there. She knelt in the middle of the corridor and said, "Your lungs have blood clots." When she seemed to walk away, I felt frustrated and murmured that I was accepted. At her moment, I couldn't start dealing with the news that the news was so ruthless. On the contrary, I began to think that I would never leave that place. I can't breathe because my lungs have literal blocks. I shed tears and anger in the corridor of that hospital, and my husband hugged me. I imagine that I never saw my child, or my family and friends. I think this operation will make my life better, but it feels like I made a terrible decision.
For me, it was the end of the white area. I was taken to a more active area in the emergency room, where the bed there was a row on the wall, and there were more beds to wait for admission. Although my husband tried to maintain a brave face, I could see my concerns about my husband. I was replaced by a dress from a hospital. In addition to oxygen, I also hung my vein injection because my level was quite low. A nurse came and gave me a shot to help me with blood clots and a very powerful pain medicine to help me fall asleep, because my husband looked at my situation helplessly.
It was the beginning of a five -day hospital hospitalization, which was full of distortions and turns, including discovering that my right leg had a larger blood clot. For more tests of blood diluers, consultations with experts and interviews with OB/GYN, they performed my uterine removal and did not foresee this.
The fact may be that she should open a bloody diluent for me at the beginning of my surgery to offset the possibility of blood clots. As a woman, it has been in various forms of hormonal nursery for many years, which has caused me to fall into the possibility of blood clots. From the perspective of the incident, I may be eager to comfort the temporary issues. I made a permanent decision without fully understanding these possibilities. I mean yes. We read exquisite printed materials before logging in to the program, but do we really ask all questions? I know I don't now.
I have never stopped considering whether my game has been used in the nursing or suggestions in the entire trigger. My surgeon is a woman of a colorful race, my parents, just like me. The emergency doctor told me in a terrible bedside way that she told me in the corridor I diagnosed that she was black like me, and of course she could be invited to participate in family cooking. Each of my nurse, each of my MRI, ultrasonic and CT technicians are colored races.
This does not mean that we sometimes do not write our pain and tell ourselves to suck it and continue. After all, this is everything we learned in the history of the entire people in most white culture. These cultures have been systematically oppressed us in generations of generations. If I woke up that afternoon, I wrote a fever and pain, but what should I do if I took the muscles and Tyno? Will I be here, can I share today's experience?
In the end, I did become good enough and still painful. Not only did I recover from my recent surgery, but I also recovered from the blood clot after development. It took me a few weeks to try to hold my breath. I want to know if I will do what I like, and I feel like I like to sing or perform. I have followed up with my junior health doctors and experts, including my OB/GYN and lung doctor. Due to the swollen legs, I had at least once traveling to the emergency room, which led to the main panic, but it was only that the blood clot had disappeared in the ultrasonic examination.
In the past six months, I spent diluers every day and realized that this might happen again. This may happen to me; anyone can happen to this. This understanding has led to a huge change in my lifestyle. I changed my career and chose to give up the pressure brought by the boss, at least one season.
I'm singing, performing, sometimes I dare to be sure, I will definitely laugh with my friends. I want to go to holidays and writing. I finally wrote. I am committed to spending time and speech wisely, because I know I can't restore them.
I know their value, I know me.