I walked into the operating room, bile rising in my stomach as I saw all the shiny sterile equipment. Fear is a small price to pay for knowledge, but at this moment, I weighed the possibility of oblivion. No, I had gone through too much to back down now. This exploratory surgery was supposed to give me more information than the MRI and Catscan that I had months earlier. My doctor told me that this surgery would finally explain why, at the age of eighteen, I still had not had my period. I needed to know why. Still, I felt as if I carried myself to my own casket as I climbed up onto the operating table and laid my head on its cold, hard surface. The anesthesiologist put the plastic mask over my mouth. I breathed in deeply.
This isn’t going …show more content…
I woke up yelling, “Ground beef!”
I went back home with three stitches marching across my swollen abdomen, permanent marks of individuality. Everything hurt. I reeked of antiseptic soap blended with honey and expired milk. I wanted to shower, but the residual drowsiness of anesthesia clung like a needy boyfriend.
A few weeks later, my mom received a phone call. “Hello? Yes, this is she…results from the surgery?”
The surgery marked the end of a very long medical journey. It all started when I went to my pediatrician at age sixteen because, unlike other girls my age, I had not experienced my first period. This reflected in the way I looked because I had not experienced the growth which inevitably comes with the change. I tried to wear shirts that would make me feel “sexy” by “hugging the curves”, but instead, these types of shirts hung pathetically because there were no curves to hug. My doctor could not give me a proper diagnosis, so I flew from doctor to doctor. Each time I assumed someone would catch me and release me safely to the ground, they tossed me to someone else, sending me spiraling uncontrollably into the anxious frenzy of the unknown. I filled enough panels of blood to feed an entire race of vampires. I shared my medical history with so many medical specialists that it would have been faster to write a book. I even endured both a Catscan and an MRI; even they could not answer the question that I pondered for years. Why …show more content…
Our school’s eatery once filled with red colonial style chairs and tables, now transformed into a cozy living room complete with large couches and a roaring fire. A woman stood in the center of the couches, her atramentaceous hair swaying over her shoulders as she declared God’s will over the night.
“I just sense a need for healing in this room,” her vivid white teeth shone.
That’s you. Go ask for healing.
I bit my lip, For what?
You know for what.
I stood impatiently beside several people as she prayed words of affirmation over their life. I tried to eavesdrop on what she spoke over them, but God blocked my ears from hearing.
“What do you need prayer for?” She faced me now, her amiable eyes observed me tenderly. “Healing. I can’t have kids.”
She placed her hands on my stomach. Sharon came behind and place her hands on my back.
“Lord God we just declare your healing over Rachel tonight…”
Warmth shot from my tailbone and settled in the base of my stomach.
“...grant Rachel fertility Father God. May she have a son, like Samuel in Your Word Father God. May he spread your gospel to the ends of the Earth. May the testimony of her healing be a demonstration of your love
This isn’t going …show more content…
I woke up yelling, “Ground beef!”
I went back home with three stitches marching across my swollen abdomen, permanent marks of individuality. Everything hurt. I reeked of antiseptic soap blended with honey and expired milk. I wanted to shower, but the residual drowsiness of anesthesia clung like a needy boyfriend.
A few weeks later, my mom received a phone call. “Hello? Yes, this is she…results from the surgery?”
The surgery marked the end of a very long medical journey. It all started when I went to my pediatrician at age sixteen because, unlike other girls my age, I had not experienced my first period. This reflected in the way I looked because I had not experienced the growth which inevitably comes with the change. I tried to wear shirts that would make me feel “sexy” by “hugging the curves”, but instead, these types of shirts hung pathetically because there were no curves to hug. My doctor could not give me a proper diagnosis, so I flew from doctor to doctor. Each time I assumed someone would catch me and release me safely to the ground, they tossed me to someone else, sending me spiraling uncontrollably into the anxious frenzy of the unknown. I filled enough panels of blood to feed an entire race of vampires. I shared my medical history with so many medical specialists that it would have been faster to write a book. I even endured both a Catscan and an MRI; even they could not answer the question that I pondered for years. Why …show more content…
Our school’s eatery once filled with red colonial style chairs and tables, now transformed into a cozy living room complete with large couches and a roaring fire. A woman stood in the center of the couches, her atramentaceous hair swaying over her shoulders as she declared God’s will over the night.
“I just sense a need for healing in this room,” her vivid white teeth shone.
That’s you. Go ask for healing.
I bit my lip, For what?
You know for what.
I stood impatiently beside several people as she prayed words of affirmation over their life. I tried to eavesdrop on what she spoke over them, but God blocked my ears from hearing.
“What do you need prayer for?” She faced me now, her amiable eyes observed me tenderly. “Healing. I can’t have kids.”
She placed her hands on my stomach. Sharon came behind and place her hands on my back.
“Lord God we just declare your healing over Rachel tonight…”
Warmth shot from my tailbone and settled in the base of my stomach.
“...grant Rachel fertility Father God. May she have a son, like Samuel in Your Word Father God. May he spread your gospel to the ends of the Earth. May the testimony of her healing be a demonstration of your love