Rebirth
In the past four years, when grappling with severe bouts of food poisoning, I believed I had encountered pain. As the operation for the Laparotomy approached, painful nights devoid of sleep convinced me I had already tasted the depths of pain. A misguided push-up, inadvertently engaging the tumor nestled in my abdomen, and what I later found out ripped the intestinal wall, left me confined to the sofa for three excruciating days, and then I thought I had known pain.
Post-surgery, with an Epidural and self-administered Fentanyl failing to silence the persistent signals of pain, I believed I had experienced the pinnacle of agony. When the drugs ceased, and I was offered paracetamol and Tramadol, both proving ineffective, I once again believed I had touched the zenith of pain. It wasn’t until a night I now refer to as my rebirth, a night that stands as the worst of my life, that I truly encountered a pain unlike any before—a pain however, that led to profound transformation.
This night unfolded in the spare room of my parents’ house, where I intended to convalesce for a few days. Retiring early, I braced myself for a night fraught with challenges. Internally, it felt as though everything hinged on my ability to have a bowel movement following the surgery. While my bladder functioned normally, a backlog of issues below the waist persisted despite the laxatives administered at the hospital.
This whole experience centered around a major operation called a Laparotomy, a procedure undertaken to remove a sizable tumor (20X20cm) from my abdomen. Alongside the tumor, my appendix and a section of my small intestine were also excised. The resulting ‘c-section’ scar and the delicate internal stitching made every cough or use of core muscles a searing reminder to avoid such actions. Throughout the night, I made numerous attempts to relieve myself before finally succumbing to sweaty exhaustion and I drifted off to sleep.
At some point during sleep, a nightmare took hold. I found myself trapped in what seemed like a mythological, purgatorial nightmare. I had become a Minotaur, tasked with a journey up a mountain, culminating in my needing to drive an object into a hole not meant for such a purpose. This impossible task would repeat, and I was stuck in this endless loop of events.
When I woke, I still felt like I was in this endless loop, only my surroundings had changed and the surreal ordeal had switched to moving from the spare bedroom to the toilet simply to open my bowels. Realizing the futility of the loop, I resolved to change my surroundings. Descending downstairs to the sitting room floor, I struggled to find a comfortable position, yearning to alleviate the internal pressure.
Returning to the bathroom became imperative—I had to persevere, regardless of the pain.
The ensuing chapter marked the acme of physical pain, but the subsequent relief was indescribable. That night, something profound transpired, connecting me with my inner self. Gratitude flowed towards my body for its endurance, strength, and resilience. Though the removal of the massive mass from my belly felt like a birthing, that night’s experience metamorphosed into a rebirth of my essence.
Sipping bone broth in the morning brought a sense of satisfaction, but the euphoria kicked in with sips of apple and mango juice, unleashing laughter that seamlessly transitioned into tears—a cathartic release. What has this ordeal taught me? Is it about empathizing with others in pain, understanding my body’s intricacies, or learning to love myself more? The answer eludes me, but through this journey and recovery, I am certain I will glean wisdom to share with others.
Life presents us with transformative experiences, and we often ponder if they are meant to be. I believe, more likely than not, they are—a predetermined course of events, perhaps designed for those yet to fully connect with their life’s purpose.
The trials of the past few years seemed to converge towards the revelation of why I am here—perhaps then, this is all part of a grand plan.
David