I sit in Dr. Serena’s office, clutching my coffee like it’s a shield. Calm, precise, unshakable...she has this way of making you feel like she sees all of you, not just the patient on paper.
She reviews my tests and lays it out clearly: my hormones had gone rogue, triggering the violent shivers, the uncontrollable body reactions. Never a seizure, never a “crisis” in the catastrophic sense—just my body’s own dramatic flair reminding me it runs on its own terms. The diagnosis? Hormonal dysregulation episode, something we can manage and monitor.
She leans in, steady and commanding, her voice soft but firm:
“Leata, your body is strong. It’s giving you signals, and we’re going to honor them. Rest when you need to. Hydrate. Let your people hold you up. You’re not in this alone.”
Her words land like a crown settling on my head. A plan follows: medication to balance things out, a few lifestyle adjustments, and a follow-up in a month. Nothing dramatic, nothing scary—just clarity, control, and care.
As I walk out, I feel something I haven’t felt in weeks: grounded. This body of mine, with its intensity, its quirks, its storms—that’s me. And with people like Kayla, Monique, and Dr. Serena in my corner, I don’t have to fight any battle solo.
It’s moments like this that remind me: I am sovereign. I am seen. I am supported. And no matter what chaos my body throws, I remain absolute.
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