Warrior

I visited an urgent care office today. My face was throbbing, daggers shooting down my throat, and my head aching. I had my vitals checked by the nurse, and was assured I wasn't dying. Cue the doctor and the normal battery of questions - family history, allergies, current medications, last menstrual cycle...

I froze. How do I answer that properly?

"Well, I had a hysterectomy on January 7th, so, I guess..." I stuttered.

"Oh, no worries," she cut in. "That clears up the question. You're just so young."

While the hysterectomy was medically necessary, and I had made the decision to have no more children years prior, it was weird to say "hysterectomy" out loud to a stranger. The words felt like marbles in my mouth, and her apparent shock hit me in an unexpected way. I felt judged and defensive. A spoonful of reality I had swallowed willingly suddenly tasted sour. I seemingly failed the intake questionnaire.

As the day wore on, the optics of the conversation changed. I was able to refocus and recenter my thinking. Friends, I remembered what this whole thing was about. And it was never about my ability - or now inability - to have children. I did that miraculously and with sweet imperfect perfection twice. My age wasn't a factor for me. I needed this surgery, so I worked with my doctor to respond to my issues in a way that made sense for my health.

This period of time in my life has been intended for healing. I'm not my pain, but I did live with it for much too long. I am not a failing uterus, and I am certainly not less of a woman because I had mine removed. Rather, I am a woman who will strive tirelessly for wellness, strength, and the ability to be there for my children in a real and present way. I have been fighting against my own body for close to a decade. At 40, I decided that wouldn't be my future. Not because I will never feel pain again, but because I won't be defined by it.

So, my dear, put on your war paint (or charcoal mask), your battle gear (or camo athleisure), and demand better for yourself. No one will do it for you. If you look at yourself and see hurt, you will find it at every turn. But, even during recovery from a major surgery, if you choose to see a warrior, you will find her. I promise.

(And, so you know, it was a sinus infection. With some steroids and antibiotics, I should be fine in no time. God bless modern medicine.)