Bindi Shah
When the topics for this year’s World Childless Week were announced, I knew instantly that I would be writing for the Childless Health Care day – a significant part of my childlessness story is related to health and adenomyosis.
In 2019, on the day of my hysterectomy, I had been bleeding non-stop for 200 days, an adenomyosis flare-up which left me totally let down by the health system. It was something I wanted to write about; at that point something I was excited to write about and explore. I recognise the power of writing to release, how it can help in the letting go process, and I was looking forward to this next stage in my healing. I found the formal complaint document I had submitted to the NHS (the UK health service) in the archived files of my computer, which I had not accessed for years. I read the document and was reminded of dates, events, appointments which I had forgotten about. I read my diary of that time, and was reminded of my emotions.
This week I sat down to write about my 200 day experience, and to form it into a piece of writing. What appeared was a factual piece of writing – no heart, no emotions. It didn’t sound like the layered emotional piece of writing I had been expecting. I didn’t understand...
AND then suddenly I completely understood. I didn’t feel connected to that part of my life anymore! Yes, it was and will always be a part of my life journey. Bleeding for 200 days will always be a significant part of my life. It equates to 6.5 months of not being heard, 28.5 weeks of pain, 4800 hours of uncertainty. But I didn’t feel connected, it was as though I was observing it from the outside. I didn’t have the emotions I had once had.
During those 200 days, my anger was immense. I would go into consultant appointments and not be able to fully convey how I was feeling as I was so angry and frustrated. During the 28.5 weeks, I had appointments cancelled – one was cancelled 3 hours prior to the appointment. My disappointment was always present.
But as I looked back, as I tried to write these feelings down, I realised that they were no longer present. I no longer felt the anger which had been an ever-present part of me during that time, and for months afterwards.
It is 6 years (almost to the day when you read this) after my hysterectomy surgery. I have let go. I have let go so fully that I cannot connect myself to that time. I do not need to write this piece to let go, it has happened.
Instead, I am reminded of a good day I had during the 200 days. I had gone to the Fertility Fest at the Barbican, and listened to the amazing talk with Benjamin Zephaniah around his childlessness. Afterwards at the book signing, I asked if it was ok to gift him my poetry book, and he said he loved that he would also get a book. He asked me to sign it for him; so I found myself signing a book for him, while he signed a book for me. It was such a surreal moment in an intense year. I also remember the huge blood clots of that day, and that my husband, Jay, and I could only go to the one session as I was bleeding so heavily. I would have loved to have stayed for the whole day.
There was a time when these 4800 hours were everything I would think about. The all-consuming energy of thinking about how I wasn’t listened to, how bad I had felt during the numerous consultations and scans. The extra tests due to my elevated CA125, a tumour marker not unusual during adenomyosis, but needing the additional tests to be sure. The wanted, and hoped for hysterectomy to stop my pain, not materialising. Instead, the blood flowing with ease.
Imagine 288,000 minutes of extensive pain, too much for painkillers to ease it. The days of wondering what was happening to me, the hours of wondering whether the adenomyosis was killing me. The 17.3 million seconds of wondering how much more my body could handle.
Looking back, and realising that I have let go of the pain and anger I felt during that time, is truly an amazing feeling. It took a lot of work; a lot of inner work. I meditated deeply, I wrote extensively. Thank you for this topic, as without it I wouldn’t have realised how far I’ve come in my healing.
200 days; 6.5 months; 28.5 weeks; 4800 hours; 288,000 minutes; 17.3 million seconds. A billion drops of blood...
This was my journey.
