My Surgery
During the summer of 2010, I noticed a large bulge coming from my stomach. Was I pregnant? Was I gaining weight? Well I definitely was not pregnant. I started working out three times a day, but when I ran, I could feel the weight inside of me bouncing up and down with every step. When I sucked in, when I laid down, this unknown bulge would not go away. This was torture…I was so concerned about being skinny, and here is this mass that refuses to budge.
I started having nightmares about hurting myself to get the bulge out of me. It was bothering me like no other. I could purge as much as I wanted to, I could exercise until I couldn’t stand straight, but it continued to grow. I began thinking that I caused some type of muscle tension or malformation from putting so much pressure on my stomach by purging. In November of 2010 I knew something was seriously wrong, so I went to the doctor’s office on campus, and they immediately sent me to the hospital. I had blood tests done as well as an MRI and an ultrasound. They had detected a very large cyst that had developed on my left ovary. As terrifying as this was, I was glad I found out and wasn’t in the dark about it.
A couple of weeks later I went to a very reputable, very trusting doctor in Philadelphia. We did some more blood tests and an internal and external ultrasound. The cyst had a tumor inside of it, and we needed to get a better look of this mass before any procedure was done. It was the size of a watermelon, and it weight about 4-5 pounds. I had a CT Scan and my doctor, after careful consideration, decided that the only way to get it out of me was to perform an open surgery.
The weeks leading up to the surgery caused me to have the most anxiety I have ever experienced, but at the same time I was so excited to get it out of me and to get my body back.
I had felt the tumor inside of me grow. I looked like I was pregnant, and strangers thought I was. The night before the surgery I couldn’t sleep. I laid in bed all night crying, but I knew it was going to be okay. The next morning my parents drove me in the snow to the hospital, and off to surgery I went. I remember arriving at the hospital, the blood tests and urine tests, I remember waiting in bed with every set to go, I remember the nurses injecting me with something that would relax my body, and then it became cloudy. I remember being put on the operating table, I remember the mask being lowered onto my face. I remember waking up in the freezing cold. I remember feeling a hole in my stomach and not being able to catch my breath. I remember calling out for help but no one would answer me. I felt sick, I felt scared, I felt like someone ripped me a part. The sickness lasted a few days, and the recovery process was slow, but eventually I got better.
My scar is a reminder of the battle I fought, and what my body can truly withstand. I love my scar, and I am so proud of myself.
