The Stop I Started
It has been a trend since the last two years that we celebrate friends, relatives and all non-festive days. However, we skip the celebrations on festivals, birthdays, anniversary, and the like. We just rest it out, because either we are too tired, or then the husband is too lazy.
Diwali was our day to not celebrate. Instead keeping the tradition going my husband and I together decided that I should go through the D & C procedure on that day. In longer medical terms it is called Dilation and Curettage, which is a procedure to remove tissue from inside the uterus. Diwali was date for the procedure. Of course, the gynaecologist had no objections, after all Lakshmi was coming home in the form of fees!
So, we celebrated Diwali at the hospital. It began with the check in, obviously; payment means check in. While the husband paid the nurses took me to the operation theatre to start antibiotics, take some blood for tests and then shave me clean below.
I was then taken to the room where the husband was settled, comfortably with his spectacles seated on his knows and his eyes behind the spectacles focussed on the newspaper. He was so immersed in the printed words that he did not even notice me come in. Oh, that is part of the evening routine – meditative newspaper reading, with the news playing TV. He is a selective dual-tasker. It’s fun when I am one of the tasks and watching football the other!
So, I got his attention by telling him what they did in the operation theatre and he responded with, “Uhuh,” returned to the newspaper. Then I told him, “I am so nervous.” He assured me, without looking at me, keeping his gaze fixed on his newspaper, “There is nothing to be nervous about, I am with you.” Then came my tantrum, “Really, where?” He left his newspaper and came to sit with me. And we sat in silence, I closed my eyes and he went to the newspaper.
We passed the next two hours, just like that. Actually, there were a few distractions every now and then till finally the nurses came to walk me to the operation theatre. Just so that you know that even though this procedure requires you to be under general anaesthesia, you are still considered good enough to walk in for the surgery.
The anaesthesia was administered, the gynaecologist came in, and the next I remember was being in the room, and experiencing absolute state of drunkenness. I woke up, passed out, woke up passed out, woke up passed out; I have no idea how many times. I vaguely remember the husband gently touching my hand, I guess to check if I am alive, stroking my forehead, probably to comfort me since I was alive. I am sure he did not want to me stir out of anaesthesia with me grumbling, “You don’t even love me or care for me.” He is a smart man. I guess that is why I married him. I did marry him because I loved him and his… everything.
I was eager to get home so my first demand was for food. I knew if I ate a bit they let me go home. They had other plans. It had to start with the water sips. The husband made me sip water, and within 30 seconds he had to rush me to throw up. I returned to the bed to pass out. Woke up sipped water, passed out, woke up, sipped water, passed out. This continued till I ate and retained in my tummy a biscuit. Guess what! It was also time to go home.
We got home. I sat on the bed and passed out. I woke up, ate a few crumbs and passed out. I woke up, ate a few crumbs and passed out. This continued till the maharaj came to conduct the Pooja for Diwali. Through the Pooja I was almost passing out and crying, almost passing out and crying, almost passing out and crying. The husband told him I had an operation in the morning.
The husband thought I was crying because I was in pain. I did not want to explain so I just said, “Yes” through the tears. Ate, cried, passed out, woke up and passed out.
It was from that day that I felt I dried up and the end of being youthful had arrived. I decided within me that for this lifetime, cobwebs would grow below and I would never, never again be able to give my husband any kind of happiness.
I went into my shell of fear, blended with low-self-esteem and complete self-rejection. What was worse, was that I was drowning myself into this zone and not talking about it. I wanted to be strong and not talk about. I wanted to find my way out of and not talk about it. It was taking a toll on our marriage, our relationship. It was creating a wall.
I was not alright with this; and yet I did not how to handle it, because I thought time will handle it. Truth: Time handles nothing, because you need to handle it.
It is alright to let yourself swim and almost drown in the storm of emotions; but you need to know when to surface and return to the land where you belong.
The procedure and the period after that made me feel like it is all over for me. My youth, my health, my sexual appetite, my ability to keep the husband happy in bed. All this happened because of my ignorance and all the more because I went to a gynaecologist, who did not seem to find it in her interest to understand me as a human being going through this transition. I was just her patient who has entered menopause, needs a D & C and observation over time.
After the D & C when I went to her for a follow up I asked her when can I return to the gym, and she said, “You should have gone the next day.” I asked when can I have sex with the husband, her husband with a hint of awkwardness replied, “after fourteen days from the procedure.”
Thinking about it now, I probably put a stop, to the possibility of being sexually active, subconsciously at that moment; maybe because I could not measure or know what is going on within my body. Having type 1 diabetes, maybe my uterus needs longer to heal, or may just not heal from this. The fear crept in then.
All these months I just hid my fears beneath the surface. The husband could not understand the why of what was happening.
Actually, the worst you can ever do to any relationship is give it the silent treatment. I did that for almost two months.
It all changed when my mother made me aware of my fear, and I confronted the husband about it. I told him last evening everything. The truth of all that I have been going through.
He still wanted to put himself into the confession, and I assertively with plenty of compassion assured him that this is not about him. This is about me and the phase.
“I need your love and support to go through this, and above all your understanding. This phase makes me feel very alone, even though I am with you,” I confessed.
He hugged me, and we made a start all over again – passionately because coming to terms with the subconscious storm actually made a natural start to the stop I had made. It was like losing my virginity all over again to the man I love the most.
This is one transition that has taught me something, and more which unveil in days, maybe weeks or months to come.
All I know, it is moment-to-moment, one-day-at-a-time,
And, I also know it is mind over hormones!