Most of you readers who know me in real life are aware that I am a middle aged woman in my late 40s.  I am in perimenopause. I haven’t had my period since July 4, 2014.  So, on September 1, when I lay down in bed to take a nap, I was surprised to feel a mass which was hard and unmoving on the lower right abdomen.  It was the size of my fist.

I knew I had a myoma.  The last ultrasound I had showed that the myoma was about 6 cm in diameter  and it was rather flat, I was told. So, imagine my shock to palpate that mass. The rational mind sometimes cannot be stopped: it began to think things through. I have been taking medications.  I wasn’t feeling pain or discomfort.  I have not been losing weight.  I have not been feeling run down lately (I was happy that I have been given a reprieve from my usual menstrual woes). If not for that swollen mass, I felt fine.

Putting my hand on that growth, I prayed. I told the Lord that He alone knew what was going on. I asked him if it was time to panic yet. I asked him to give me reassurance in my spirit that this is not an emergency, and if it is and emergency, then I asked him to give me the conviction to go to the hospital. I put my life and my health in his hands and I surrendered the whole thing to him — I prayed that He be given all the glory through this.

I asked the Lord to show me and to guide me as to what I should do.  I have gone to doctors who have advised me to have a hysterectomy immediately. I have nothing against a hysterectomy, except that it will make me go earlier in to menopause which will , in turn, make me more vulnerable to other diseases (osteoporosis, hypertension, even cancer).  So, I asked the Lord to lead me to a doctor who can help me.

As I lay there with my hand on the mass, I quoted Psalm 23:4 to myself “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou are with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” I had to chuckle to myself when I asked “Who of you, by taking thought, can add one cubit to his measure?” Loosely translated in this specific set of circumstances, I asked myself, “Will this myoma really be reduced in size if you worry yourself about it?”  That calmed me down — humor always calms me down.

I repeated those thoughts to myself each time I felt a tightening in my chest. My husband came home and I told him about it.  He said “It’s important that you don’t terrorize yourself.”  We both relaxed because of that.  And then, we went through our usual activities. Later, as we lay in bed, in the dark, I said to him, I don’t mind getting sick and dying — we all have to die sometime. What makes me sad is if I get sick, you will have to care for me and if I die, you will be a widower and no one will be left to care for you. That is my biggest fear and my greatest sadness. I had made a promise to my husband on my wedding day that I would love and care for him till the day I died. I fully intended to fulfill that promise — we both took it for granted that he would go ahead of me because he was much older than me. That was the time I cried and it made me feel better.

So, we scheduled a trip to the doctor as soon as possible. I’m seeing about three doctors: 1 suggested a hysterectomy, 2 were against the idea of a hysterectomy for me at this time.  We had decided to see the doctor on Sunday, September 7, after Sunday service. On Friday,  September 5 — that was the day of the one-truck lane fiasco that caused the traffic standstill; I had my period (after two months of not having it). I was surprised because there was no pain — no cramping, no body ache, no gas pain, no headache,  no malaise (I was able to sit in traffic for two hours, lecture for 2 1/2 hours and stand in line at the UV Express terminal for one hour).

On Saturday, I went to market, as usual. When I got home, I felt a warm gush.  I think that every two hours I had to change my sanitary pad — it was soaked through and this was no ordinary sanitary pad — I had on a night pad.  I was thinking of using maternity pads or an adult diaper because of the strong periodic gushing of blood.  I think that about 1/4 cup to 1/2 cup of blood came out with each gush. Each time I got up, the seat I occupied was stained. Each time my husband would say “Don’t terrorize yourself.” This was what happened the whole of Saturday and Sunday. So, I wasn’t able to go to church.

On Sunday afternoon, as I lay down for my nap, I ran my palm down my abdomen and the mass was gone — whew! It was just blood thickening the uterus from two monthly periods I had missed.  I am scheduled for another ultrasound this coming week.  I have to go see the doctor when my period is over. The last time I had an extraordinarily strong flow, I experienced low blood pressure.

On Monday morning, I was surprised to wake up with a sanitary pad that was clean. Until today, the blood comes in small trickles — like the normal flow on the fifth day. It was like waking up from a nightmare. I’m glad I didn’t panic. I think that had I panicked, I would have gone into surgery immediately.  I don’t mind having surgery (the mass would be gone and that would be that). It would take me a while to get back to the usual activities which means everybody else’s lives would be inconvenienced. As long as it is God’s will, then, I will happily have surgery.

In the meantime, I am taking it easy.