When the Body Speaks: Pain and Persistence

Dr. Serena’s back in town, and I had just come from my check-up with her. You know her—thorough, no shortcuts, checking everything. But this time, when she ran the ultrasound, her face shifted—just enough to tell me something was off.

She crossed her arms and gave me that look. “You’re having a flare-up,” she said, pointing at the screen. “See that bulging? That’s the abnormal tissue growth. Your uterus is significantly enlarged, and I’m seeing some obstruction near the lower segment.”

 I let out a slow exhale. I knew things were getting worse, but hearing her say it aloud? Damn. That made it hit differently.

She nodded at the screen again. “The wall’s thickened more, and there’s pressure building on everything around it. If this keeps up, we’re talking potential compression of your bladder and intestines. You’re feeling it already—but ignoring it won’t help.”

I knew exactly what she meant. Peeing every hour, never finding a comfortable position, strangers assuming I was pregnant… that had become my new “normal.” And this wasn’t even news. Almost a year ago, I’d been told about my uterine wall issues and insufficient cervix. Back then, the pain was manageable—frustrating, but tolerable. Now? It was unbearable.

 

She leaned forward, serious but steady. “You need help. It’s time to see a specialist.”

I exhaled slowly, already knowing where this was going. “So…it’s that serious?”

She nodded. “I’m sending a referral today. Someone who knows this inside and out, who can lay out your options for you.”

I nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

She gave me a little smile, small but real. “Good. We’ll figure this out.”

Looking back… whew, chile, that was just another step on the long, wild ride my body’s been taking me on. Exhausting, enlightening, frustrating, strengthening—all at once. Things were only going to get messier, but one thing stayed the same: I had people in my corner who respected the woman I’m becoming.

Dr. Serena doesn’t sugarcoat, but she also doesn’t make it scarier than it is. Two weeks until Dr. O’Ryan. A man. I wasn’t thrilled about that part. Sitting there, explaining my body’s chaos to a stranger? Not fun. Hopeful, hesitant, open, guarded—all at the same time. Would he listen? Would he get it? Or would I have to fight for respect like always?

Dr. Serena must’ve seen it. “I know it’s not ideal,” she said, “but Dr. O’Ryan is one of the best. Thorough, experienced, and—most importantly—he listens.”

That’s the part that mattered.

“Alright,” I said, the knot in my stomach still there, but a little lighter.

She nodded. “I’ll send everything over. If anything changes, you call me. Don’t wait.”

I promised I wouldn’t—but I knew those two weeks? They were gonna feel like forever. Anxious, determined, dreading, preparing… all rolled into one messy, real-ass wait.