I can’t believe I’m about to go down this lane again of writing about fibroids.

There was a time I dreaded the word “fibroid”, sadly because for almost 3 years, fibroid took charge of my life, I couldn’t have a normal life as I was constantly in pain; my stomach, my back, my feet, every part of my body hurt. My blood level never went past 18% no matter how much I tried to eat right. I was bleeding days on end.

I remember on day I was driving to work, I started having severe cramps, for someone who was used to being in constant pain, I thought I could handle the pain. Barely 5 minutes away from home, the pain went from a 30 to a 100. I was in so much pain I thought I would pass out behind the wheels. I managed to get to the office, requested for an uber to take me straight to the hospital, I called my siblings to meet me in the hospital. I pitied the uber driver as he was so confused, by the time I got to the hospital, the back seat was drenched in blood, I kept apologizing to the uber driver, and he kept saying I’m sorry madam with so much fear in his eyes. I was immediately admitted, given some pain killers. I dozed off for like 5 minutes and the pain came back with a vengeance. The doctor immediately ordered for a scan. All the while I thought my friends “the fibroids” were the culprit, but this time around the scan was pointing towards hernia. We were all shocked, because I always thought that hernia was a ‘male’ thing. The pain wasn’t abating and my siblings were getting impatient. They decided to move me to another hospital. By the time we got to the 2^nd hospital I just wanted die at least that will end my pain.

I was immediately admitted and a CT scan was carried out. The CT scan confirmed the scan in the previous hospital, it was the hernia that was causing the pain. The doctors said I needed immediate surgery. The surgery could not be done as my blood level was too low. I had to undergo a blood transfusion. The next day, the doctors came to do a review and to propose a date for the surgery. I asked them if I could go and think about it since the pain had reduced and I wasn’t in danger anymore. The doctors discharged me and I went home. At this point I still wasn’t convinced that surgery was not my only option. I went back to my normal life (the constant pain and endless bleeding). I went on to try and look for other solutions. I would try anything and everything. I spent thousands of naira buying herbal medicines. I was taking them religiously, the symptoms would abate for a short time and once I stopped, the pains and bleeding came in full force.

I started experiencing fainting spells. My blood level had dropped to 14%. I had to undergo another blood transfusion. The scan showed that the fibroids were scattered all over and there was a particular one right in the middle of my uterus that was responsible for the excessive bleeding. This time around, I had consultation with a gynecologist who had over 35 years’ experience. He spoke to me not just as my doctor, but as a father. He placated me, I kept complaining of how I had done a previous myomectomy and was so terrified of having another myomectomy and all the cons I have read about multiple myomectomy. The major one being difficulty in conceiving naturally. The doctor went ahead to give me stories of women who had multiple myomectomy who still went on to conceive and had children. At that point I began to embrace the idea of another surgery. I wanted this particular doctor to do the surgery, but the fee for the procedure in his hospital was over a million naira. I had to look for an affordable alternative and someone who could do it as good as the doctor with 35 years’ experience.

So my search for a doctor and hospital began. I was working in the health sector so I knew who to speak with. I spoke to some couple of people in my hospital circle, they gave some doctors names. One of my uncle was told about my ordeal and he asked that I go to Army Command and NAOWA Hospital. As usual, I dragged my feet about going, but decided to go when my family continued to push I go. Immediately I stepped my foot in the hospital, something in me just knew I was in the right place (I had prayed for Allah’s guidance before setting out to the hospital). I met a lovely lady (we are good friend’s now) at the front desk. I told her why I was there, I made all the necessary enquiries. I asked her to please grant me audience as I needed to speak to her in private. I told her my story (my previous myomectomy journey and how I needed to have a very good doctor handle my case). She told me that NAOWA had a track record of carrying out successful myomectomy surgeries and in fact one of her friend just went through the same surgery some days ago and it was very successful. At that point, my mind had calmed down. I was gradually accepting my reality of having a second surgery. My new friend helped me to register and booked me to see a doctor the coming week Tuesday. Tuesday came and I was in the hospital before 7am, as it was clinic days for pregnant women too. I waited till about 12pm before it was my time to go in. A very beautiful female doctor was seated behind the desk with her assistant by her side. We exchanged pleasantries and I told her why I was there. She requested I do another scan in their facility. I did the scan, of course, I knew what the result was going to be, so I wasn’t surprised. When the doctor looked at the scan result and my blood work, she told me what every other doctor has been saying “surgery”. I accepted my fate and told her to book me. I was booked for July 22^nd 2022. I was expected to be admitted in the hospital on the 21^st of July.

I checked into the hospital on the 21^st of July, series of test were carried out, as usual my blood was too low for me to go into surgery. I had to do a blood transfusion that Thursday evening. On Friday morning, my doctor came, did a review, asked for another test to know if my blood level had come up, the test was done and the doctor said it still wasn’t enough to get me into surgery, I needed to get another pint of blood and because of that the surgery couldn’t be done on the 22^nd. My doctor rescheduled the surgery for the 23^rd. I woke up on the 23^rd, I was prepared for surgery, all the shaving, the pep talk. We were waiting, waiting for minutes turned into hours. I started getting agitated, I demanded to know why a surgery that was slated for 10am hadn’t started and this was almost 1pm. The nurse went to get the doctor. The doctor came (not my doctor) and casually told me that they are sorry, but the surgery has been postponed. I was shocked and livid at that moment, I lost it. I was shouting down the hospital, how was my surgery postponed and no one deemed it fit to inform me. I had lost my patience and was ready to bring down the hospital. My parents, siblings and partner were all trying to get me to calm down. They said I should take it as an act from Allah, just maybe it wasn’t the right time for the surgery to be done. I had to calm down and asked to speak to my doctor. She called me and I registered my displeasure. I asked her since the surgery didn’t take place, when was it going to take place? She said she was busy, the surgery has to be rescheduled to a week after. This got me upset again, I told her I couldn’t wait for another week. I had been placed on Primolut N for almost a week just so I don’t bleed and if my period comes, they won’t be able to do the surgery and the blood transfusion would have been in vain as I would likely bleed out the whole blood again.

My doctor said I should give her some time to see if she can get her other colleague to do the surgery since I couldn’t wait for her to return.  She called me, her colleague had agreed to do the surgery, I was booked for the 25^th of July. I left the hospital that Saturday night, and was to return Sunday evening. I checked back in on Sunday evening, they conducted some test again and I was certified ready for the surgery the next day. The day came, I was prepared for the surgery. The anesthetic came and asked what type of anesthesia I would like. I told him I wanted to be conscious during the surgery. The nurses came to wheel me to the theatre. My sister followed me down to the theatre. We said our goodbyes, I was trying to remain calm just the way I could see my sister was trying to remain calm. In the theatre, I finally meet the doctor who agreed to do the surgery. He asked if I was married, if I have kids, he told me not to worry that the surgery will be over before I know it. The procedure began and the doctor and I were gisting, I just noticed that his disposition changed, he asked me “you said you are not married”, I told him again I wasn’t, then he jokingly asked me “is there someone you broke his heart” I laughed and I asked why he asked, he kept quiet. Some seconds after, I felt a sharp pain, I screamed, the doctor asked “Maimuna, did you feel that” I said yes, then I heard him tell one of the theatre attendant to call in the general surgeon now. The general surgeon came in and I could over hear them talking, my doctor was saying the fibroid were everywhere and the best option was to do a hysterectomy, as soon as I heard that, my heart sank, I just did a short prayer, I said “Ya Allah, if this is what’s best for me, Alhamdulilah”. The doctor came back again, “Maimuna, you said you are not married and don’t have any kids” I nodded, then he told me, “do not worry, we will do our possible best to save your uterus”. He went back to work, I felt a sharp pain, I noticed he signaled to the anesthetic and that was the last thing I remembered.

I woke up at about 10pm, I asked what time it was and they told me. I asked how long the surgery lasted and I was told I was in the theatre for 6 and half hours. I was drifting in and out of consciousness. This time around, the post-surgery pain was minimal. The next morning, my doctor came to brief me. He said I’ll have to stay for at least 8 days without taking anything, because I had 4 major surgeries done. I was shocked. He said they had to do the myomectomy (they didn’t do the hysterectomy again after I told him I do not have any child), a hernia surgery was done, an endometrial polyp surgery and in the process of trying to take out the fibroids, my bowels were ruptured, so they had to fix that and that’s the reason why I couldn’t eat anything because they needed to be sure that the bowel had healed to avoid another rupture. That explained why the surgery took so long, the surgery was conducted by 2 teams. My previous doctor’s assistant came to check on me as she was also assigned to manage my case. She said “Maimuna, if I wasn’t a firm believer, your case would have made me believe that witch craft do exist. She said for over an hour, they were trying to figure out my anatomy as the whole of my insides were in utter mess, they couldn’t tell what was what. She said , it was like the fibroids was cemented to your insides, some they just couldn’t access, but the doctor told them that he promised he was going to do his best , so they needed to get every fibroid out to reduce the chances of the fibroids reoccurring anytime soon. She said, when you leave this hospital, please, go and thank Allah as all she could think is Allah was on my side”. I was shocked to my bones. I was filled with gratitude. The recovery period was smooth, but God I was hungry, the 8 days felt like a year. I was begging them to please let me take something, even if it was just a drop of water. The doctors said I couldn’t take anything. Then my second fear came, the ulcer started bleeding, they had to start treating the ulcer, I still was not allowed to take anything only fluid through IV. By the second day, they said I needed to get off the bed so I don’t get blood clots. I tried, it was so painful, but my mom, sisters and the nurses helped. By the fourth day, I was getting up from the bed with a little bit of aid. I was placed on many antibiotics, many pain killers (there is one I can never forget, “penta”, that drug was from the pit of hell). It made me act hysterical. I had to ask for it to be discontinued (thinking about it now, I’m laughing so hard).

On the 9^th day, I couldn’t take it anymore, I said they needed to give me something to drink or eat or else I’ll die. I had not farted yet, one of the doctors asked that my sister get me tom-tom. I started taking tom-tom, it wasn’t what I was looking forward to take because on a regular day, I don’t take it, but I was just glad that I finally had something in my stomach. By the time I was on my 4^th tom-tom, I farted, I was so excited, I was screaming with the little energy I had. I asked my sister to inform the nurse that I had farted. I thought shey I have farted, why was I not asked to take at least water. The next day when the doctor who asked me to take the tom-tom came, I cried to him and said “doctor, you said once I pass gas, I’ll be allowed to take something” he started apologizing, saying I was supposed to be informed to start taking liquids, those were music to my ears. I told my mom, please, give me water. I had to take little sips. I was allowed to take lipton, pap and to the glory of Allah, I was able to poo. The doctor was informed that I pooped. He said that was what they were waiting for, it showed that my bowels had healed.

A total of 35 fibroids were removed, my doctor who lead the surgery said in his 25 years of practice, he had only seen my kind of case twice. On the 11^th day, I was discharged from the hospital, I was so happy to be going home, but then came another bomb shell. One of the doctors came in to tell me all I should do, all I should avoid and then she goes “has anyone come to talk to you”? I said talk to me about what? She said “because of your previous surgery, there were a lot of adhesions and with this difficult surgery you just underwent, you may not be able to have kids”. My world stopped that very moment. My sisters started to cry, I told the doctor thank you and I was ready to go home. At that moment, I didn’t want to think about anything, I had just gone through a difficult 11 days of my life. I just wanted to go home. I had to be coming to the hospital for my stitch to be dressed as some part of the stitch broke down. That was another painful process, but hey, the worst was over. After 2 weeks, I had a review with the doctor who carried out the surgery, I told him what the other doctor told me when I was about to be discharged. He was furious, he said “I performed your surgery, I didn’t tell you that, all I’m going to tell you is to go and start trying for a baby”. I was relieved for a brief moment, deep down in me, I said “Allah, you are making me go through another test, Ya Allah, You know that unmarried and as a Muslim, I’m not supposed to have a child outside wedlock, how do I do what the doctor is asking me to do???