Today? Today was a full-on storm. Pain, leakage, exhaustion it all landed at once. I had to leave work early, dragging myself out of the office like I was carrying a hundred pounds I didn’t sign up for. By the time I got home, I was spent. And of course… I was out of my meds. Had to laugh at myself. Can I get a refill?
I called Dr. Serena. We talked everything out—my symptoms swinging like a pendulum, hormones still acting up, all of it just wearing me down. And then I told her: after meeting Dr. O’Ryan, I was moving forward with the myomectomy.
She didn’t blink. She just said: “Girl, this is you. Own it.”
I needed that. Needed someone to see me and not flinch at my mess. She reminded me that with the size of the abnormal tissue growths, the constant pelvic pressure, the bladder compression, the heavy bleeding… surgery really is the move. The MRI confirmed it: this wasn’t just space being taken—it was pressure on my bladder, my intestines, my life. That recurring cervical tissue leakage? Another red flag. Waiting wasn’t helping anything.
I told her, “I just want my coochie to breathe.” She laughed until she cried. “Girl, you can let it free as long as you’re healing.” And just like that, the tension cracked—tears into laughter, stress into release.
I’ve been weaker than usual, so Dr. Serena ordered pre-op bloodwork. Gotta make sure my hemoglobin and iron aren’t tanking before surgery. She also bumped up my anti-inflammatories to fight the swelling—but warned me it might bring more fluid release. Yep… welcome to the circus.
Everything feels like preparation for a battle I didn’t ask for—but knowing my team’s got me? Insurance, meds, guidance, and Dr. Serena holding my back? That makes me steady, even when the body is tired.
One more month. One more final check. And then? Freedom. My coochie will breathe, my body will heal, and I’ll step through this on my own terms.
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