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One morning I woke up. I couldn’t move. I could not feel anything. My head hurt. That was the only sensation I felt, until… I tried to move. The pain! It was beyond namable. The pain started in my stomach then shot through my back and added to the throbbing in my hammering head. When the initial shock and pain subdued to a more manageable stabbing throb, I tried to holler but I was left breathless, and I wasn’t even able to cry out when the jolt of pain hit me. I laid there, waiting. I couldn’t move, I didn’t want to risk that pain again. After what seemed like hours of strained breath, a hammering head, and the fear of moving; my mom came in.
My mom’s first reaction, “Oh get up, you’re going to school.” She came in a second time mad, that I hadn’t moved. I was close to tears, I couldn’t say anything more than a moan and a faint whisper and on top of that I was in such pain that I couldn’t even tell my mother! When my mom realized I was in pain, she tried to set me up. With what seemed like hours, I accomplished standing but I was bent almost completely over, nauseated and light headed. After half the day my mom gets my into the truck and takes me to my chiropractor. He couldn’t find anything wrong. Except I couldn’t stand up straight and just breathing took a lot of effort. He tried several muscle relaxants and could get me to unfold just a little bit but only if I was on my side.
The next place my mom took me to was the doctor. After a couple of examinations my mom and I were told that I was pregnant. My mom’s jaw would have literally hit the floor if it wasn’t attached so securely. Looking back her face was hilarious. Anyway, at the same time my mom started stuttering, I shouted “I’m still a virgin!” but, the only sound that came out was a hoarse whisper that resembled those words. Upon closer investigation, the doctors couldn’t find a heartbeat or even bones, but they stuck with their thought that it was a baby and it was the size of a small watermelon and I was experiencing labor pains. With even further investigation, it was discovered that the “baby” was an overly large assist. The assist was classified as an ovarian assist and it engulfed my entire left ovary and squished almost all my organs together. Apparently, I was born with this assist and it grew over the years to its huge size and it was ready to burst. An assist, I was told, was a balloon type growth that filled with toxic chemicals and some other substances. I was also told that if it burst before it was fully out of me, I could die because the toxins would be quickly absorbed into my organs and blood stream. They prepped me for surgery for the next hours.
First they had to get me drugged, they gave me pills to relax my muscles so I would be able to rest comfortably on the raised bed. Getting me drugged was a big problem. I hate needles. The whole staff that was on duty that night had to hold me down. Some got sprained and jammed fingers and wrists, and another doctor got a broken nose. Almost all of the staff got at least one bruise. Finally I was subdued and my IV and other needles were put into me. Finally, several hours later, I headed to surgery. I was told it was routine and I would be out in an hour. The procedure was supposed to a few minutes. I would be cut open in my naval and a tube would pierce the assist then immediately start sucking all the toxins, chemicals, and other juices out. Once the juices were gone the bag was going to implode on itself and then be suck into the tube following the last of the toxins. Then everything went wrong.
The assist was too big to be sucked out. The had to open me completely. My scars resemble a caesarian section. My surgery turned into major abdominal correction surgery. Within minutes of being cut open, I started to wake up. I remember being drowsy and seeing bright lights. I also remember hearing faint voices that sounded far away. I think one of the doctors said something like “she’s waking up, administer (something) and get her back down.” I fell back into my dreamless sleep and woke up later in my room.
I don’t know what was worse, the dying feeling before surgery or the after surgery dead feeling. I was hooked up to multiple tubes; a catheter, one up my nose, one down my throat, and the IVs in my arm and hand. I was extremely tired. I wasn’t even able to begin to move, that’s how tired I was. Later after I regained my senses, and the tubes down my throat and nose were removed, I felt nauseous. The nauseous feeling stayed with me until two weeks after I came home from the hospital.
I ended up staying in the hospital for almost three weeks. My best friends came to see me, I felt a little embarrassed because I was such a mess. We had a TV in my room that had a VCR and most of the time was spent watching movies. There was also video games that could be played on the play station my friend brought so I could actually do something. After about a week, I was able to read my books. I read three Stephen King books while I was there. I was so glad when I was released after almost three weeks of being in the hospital.
By doctors orders I was in house arrest for another week. That wasn’t too bad. I started to miss school but I wasn’t allowed until another week. Even then I was limited
in what I could do. No gym, no lifting more than 5 pounds, no extraneous activities, no gym, and a few other things. In spite of everything, I was glad to be back and school so I could catch up in all my work. I felt much better, and I was on my way to getting back into the swing of my life.
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