Sisters, don’t be alarmed at the mumu, it’s totally appropriate and in fact, the only thing I want to and can be wearing right now, because this mother of the sisterhood had a bit of a curve ball thrown at me this week.
I went into battle with a rogue ovarian cyst, that had decided to grow some mutant qualities and wanted to take down a fallopian tube and my right ovary while it was at it. I have pictures, but I don’t want to put you off your brekkie.
So this is me this morning, in all my glory, hospital mumu and DVT stockings, to keep those blood clots at bay. It got me thinking how curve balls can have the propensity to steer us so off course and we can often find it hard to get back onboard. The reliance on others is suddenly intensive and extreme, you are thrust into the care of others and cannot control your own pain or the next steps and that is scary. So I am doing my damnedest to not let it cut me down, but instead, fill me up with gratitude and a story to tell. There’s always a great story to tell.
When my husband took me to the emergency room I recalled vaguely how I had never been to an ED before. I have only been in hospital once as a teenager to have a nearly erupting appendix out and then twice to have my babies. But never emergency, never in a wheelchair, crippled in pain. So this was a new one. I even did a TV-like shout out “please, someone help me, something is wrong”. YES, that was me, on Wednesday afternoon at 4.45pm.
The nurses and Dr’s were great, telling me to breathe through it and hold their hand and then they tripled the morphine and realised that wasn’t even touching the sides. So surgery was suddenly on the cards. Never-mind, that I knew about the cyst already, just not that it was also taking an ovary or fallopian tube with it. I was due to have it out next week, in a private hospital and not be dragged into emergencey surgery. I was scared and a bit daunted and shocked that I had left work at 2.30 to collect my kids and was crippled in pain by 3pm and in hospital soon after.
But you see that’s when I just had to let go and for those that know me, they know that that’s hard. I organise for a living and I was even bossing my husband around about what I needed him to do, after surgery, no memory of it, but also able to sing “I like big butts and I cannot lie”.
Suddenly it was all out of my hands and friends stepped in to grab the kids, then my dad took over looking after them that night. My husband paced the halls of the hospital, waiting for news of me, the cyst and it’s darstedly deeds (that’s a book title if I ever heard one). Then friends and family started to hear the news and sent texts, made calls and offers of help and food for my gaggle of boys. They came to visit with flowers, even when I was too woozy to get my head off the pillow. Flowers and good cheer followed. Work rallied like the champions they are and am grateful for their amazingness. While I had to cancel a planning day for Sisterhood of Style today, with an epic business mentor and I won’t be able to speak at a women’s group event on Sunday about style,I know that I will have the opportunities again, I just need to spend the time now recuperating.
When I got my wits back very early this morning, after a second night in hospital, I felt compelled to write this down. This feeling of gratefulness and gratitude. Life may have thrown me a big fat curve-ball but I’m determined to catch it on the full and run (well maybe walk right now) with it and just be at one with the sucker.
So thanks rogue cyst, you kinda did me a favour, because I see my cup is full of awesome. I’m gonna rock this mumu and white DVT stockings while I still can, because normal life will resume soon enough and sometimes, a mumu is all a girl needs.
Thanks for letting me share sisterhood.
Love EJ, the mother of the sisterhood. xx