Me, Myself and My Inner Child
A few weeks ago, I had a Uterine Fibroid Embolization (UFE). UFE is a treatment to destroy or shrink uterine fibroids, which are benign (non-cancerous) tumours of the uterine wall or muscle.
The procedure itself is not the focus of this piece. If you want to know more about this procedure or other treatments associated with removing your fibroids, your best bet is to discuss it with your family doctor or your gynecologist. This piece focuses on me, my inner child, and lots of tears.
The procedure took place on a Monday morning. It took one hour. Due to the possibility of pain (hello cramping), the hospital keeps you overnight. Some women (bless them) have reportedly experienced mild to no pain after the procedure. I was not one of those women.
Minutes after the procedure, while still in the operating room, whatever drug I was given, had worn off. The cramping was like nothing I had ever experienced. A kind nurse tried to console me as I started to cry.
I finally made it back to the hospital room, still crying. I was required to lie on my back, legs stretched out, for at least four hours. This was tough to do. For any woman who has experienced cramping as a result of her period, the first thing you want to do is roll up in a fetal position. I was experiencing some next-level cramping as a result of the procedure and all I wanted to do was roll up in a fetal position.
In addition to the cramping, the tears would not stop. For the next four hours, all I could do was sob. At one point, my roommate, a 41-year-old woman dealing with her own health issues: chronic pancreatitis, managed to put her pain aside and came over to console me. I was inconsolable.
I understand pain is relative. But at that moment, I was not thinking about the pain experienced by others; I did not have the capacity to tell myself: this will pass. I mean, I knew it would. But for those four hours, I cried, screamed, and sobbed. Uncontrollably.
And somewhere deep inside of me, a voice kept telling me: Let it out. Let out all the tears. Even if they have nothing to do with your current pain. You are safe here.
And for four hours, I cried, screamed, and sobbed.
A few weeks later, I shared my experience with a dear friend. Her response: Your body was releasing more than just the pain from the procedure. It was trauma you’ve been holding in. Those kinds of releases are great and necessary.
She nailed it. I needed to release the pain, the anger, the sadness, and the confusion that my inner child had kept bottled up and tucked away. I needed a safe space to do so. And in that hospital room, following a routine procedure, I let it out.
I was not embarrassed. Old me would often get embarrassed when the focus was on her. I was not dismissive. Old me was often dismissive of her own emotions/feelings. I was not apologetic. Old me was the queen of ‘I’m sorry.’
This embolization was more than a one-hour procedure to destroy or shrink some fibroids. This embolization was a step in healing my inner child, of healing ‘old me.’
