The Illusion of Control
I once saw a picture of a man meditating in front of an erupting volcano with the caption, “Relax. Nothing is under your control”. This article briefly recounts the beginning of my journey after life-altering surgery that reshaped my body and, in turn, my identity. This experience likely resonates with anyone who has undergone a medically-necessary procedure that involves loss of a limb or another essential part of the body, requiring not just physical rehabilitation but also an emotional reckoning with the changes in functionality and self-perception.
I vividly remember the moment I received my diagnosis— the look of concern on the doctor’s face, her astonishment at my test results. She called in a colleague, and together, their wide-eyed, troubled expressions, and hushed tones made it clear that something was gravely wrong.
I was told that a portion of my female anatomy needed to be removed. What? How can this be happening? The severity of my condition hit me like a shockwave, leaving me sweating, faint, and barely able to stay conscious. Though I managed to remain composed as we discussed the next steps, the moment I left her office, I broke down and sobbed all the way to my car.
Coming to Terms
As days passed, my emotions spiraled into an overwhelming whirlwind. There were many reasons I dreaded this surgery, some too personal to share. I’ve always dreamed of being a mother, but that dream remained unfulfilled for complex reasons. The thought of this procedure made me feel like I would be losing part of my womanhood. I’ve always embraced my femininity, and the idea of such an invasive procedure felt terrifyingly barbaric.
I oscillated between denial and desperate hope, wishing I could avoid the operation or strike a bargain with God for a miraculous healing. I consulted several doctors, seeking an answer, but each time I was told there were no alternatives. I had to find the strength to face my reality with courage.
Moving Forward with the Surgery
I realized it was crucial to navigate this experience in a way that felt right for me, and to silence the negative, judgmental voices within that dictated how I should feel or handle my situation.
On the morning of my surgery, I was numb, still in shock from everything that was happening. Wanting to avoid witnessing the procedure, I asked the anesthesiologist to put me under as quickly as possible. He obliged, and the last thing I saw before closing my eyes was the ceiling lamp.
Aftermath
After the surgery, I felt proud of myself and grateful for the resilience of my body, but my emotional journey has been a turbulent rollercoaster, marked by waves of deep grief and mourning. My feelings are tender and closely guarded. I’ve had to carefully choose who I can confide in, but being able to openly express my emotions with supportive people has been crucial.
Now, six weeks into recovery, I’m still in the early stages of navigating this uncharted territory. Music, art, writing, and fully embracing my emotions has been invaluable. Slowly, I’m learning to reclaim my identity as a woman and to redefine what truly constitutes womanhood. I’m realizing that I can still be glamorous, sexy, attractive, and maternal, even though parts of my female anatomy are gone. I’m discovering that I’m still beautiful and whole, even with my scars.
