I HAD, for quite some time, been feeling excruciating pain, and knew something was definitely wrong with me. Nevertheless, I kept putting off that inevitable visit to the doctor because, somehow, I really didn’t want to know.
It was not until that pain in my lower pelvic area became unbearable that I was forced to confront my fear of visiting the gynaecologist.
There, I found a throng of women, many of whom had taken up their positions from as early as 06:30 hours. I remember the sinking feeling I experienced as I sat on the hard wooden bench aligned with the doctor’s office, waiting my turn to be examined.

Worst fears confirmed

My worst fears were confirmed later that morning when an ultrasound revealed something very shocking in my lower abdomen.
I remember walking in terrible pain with my crying mother beside me. She had accompanied me to the doctor after numerous pleas that I do something about my condition. As I showed the results of the ultrasound to Dr. Guy Low, a popular gynaecologist/obstetrician, I saw a fleeting expression of concern cross his features, and I realized that even he was alarmed at my condition.
He took me to perform another ultrasound, and then immediately informed me that I had to undergo an emergency operation.
I didn’t even have time to digest the news, as I was quickly ‘prepped’ for surgery by several nurses, who tried their best not to alarm me by explaining the medical procedures in hushed tones.
Thereafter, I lay on a cold gurney, wearing only a flimsy gown, as I was wheeled into the Operating Theatre for surgery.
I felt very cold in the theatre. I saw two nurses, one of whom was sterilizing several pieces of instrument, while Dr. Damon DeCaires, general practitioner/anaesthesist, desperately tried to find a vein on my hand, because the other hand had rejected the needle, and this was my last hope.
In a kind and friendly manner, Dr DeCaires began telling me to remain calm, as he patted my hand over and over. After several attempts, he was successful in finding a vein. I was relieved.

Put to sleep

I was in so much pain I could barely speak. As he spoke to me, I nodded my head in answer, and we joked for a few minutes before he was joined by Dr. Low.
Dr. De Caires told me he was going to put me to sleep, but I would wake up in about 40 minutes, and I would be better. And I believed him.
I prayed silently as I drifted off to sleep, picturing my crying mother as I waved goodbye to her while being wheeled into the Operating Theatre.
I woke up in a lot of pain, and I remember crying, but Dr. DeCaires wiped away my tears before I was wheeled to the ward and placed on a bed.

Drowsily, I looked around and saw a pregnant woman in the bed near mine. After a few minutes, we became acquainted, and she was of great help to me, always enquiring if I was alright. Although I ordered her around quite a bit in getting things done for me, I must admit she never complained.
However, when visiting time was announced, several nurses began fussing over me, and a group of relatives and family members rushed in to see me.
My mother was there. I was told she had not gone home, and was sitting at the hospital awaiting my return from surgery. She was all smiles when she saw me.
After some chatter, it was night, and my visitors all left. I could not move, and I lay on the bed, assailed by bouts of pain.
I wanted to sleep, but the pain was too much, so I lay awake all night, chatting with my friend, who was expecting her baby and getting very anxious.
I was very hungry and thirsty, but was instructed not to eat anything until the following day. I watched her eat all night, but I didn’t mind, because she was such a cheerful person.

Facing the challenge

The day after surgery, several nurses helped me get cleaned up, and told me that I had to get up out of the bed; I shuddered at the challenge, but cupped the huge cut on my abdomen with one hand and pulled myself up with the aid of the other.
I was finally sitting up in bed, and it felt as if I was going to die. The pain was that bad.
The nurses also told me to stand up; and when I could manage, I had to walk. Within minutes, I was standing, and when all the intravenous contraptions were removed, I walked at a snail’s pace in spite of the pain.
In no time, I was walking around, and Dr. Low discharged me, but the recovery process at home was slow and painful.
Now I consider myself fully recovered, thanks to Dr. Low, who I believed helped save my life.
I had gone to the hospital at the right time, and Dr. Low had acted very quickly when he saw my condition.
Today, I can safely say that miracles do happen, by God’s grace. I’d almost died, but today, I am very happy that I’ve been given another chance at life.