Fibroids, Girl.
Joie de Vivre
This inaugural post is actually dedicated to my sister-friend, who, for the purposes of this blog I'll call, "Joie." At the onset of the summer, she succumbed to her decade-long bout with Cancer. Her birthday was yesterday, September 17th, and though I miss her physical appearance, I'm thankful she's no longer suffering physically. We sang, laughed and shared so many fond memories together, and though there's still an element of the disbelief of her transition on my behalf, I nevertheless celebrate the joy and humor you brought into my life.
Rest Eternally in Heaven, Joie.
Church Girls...
I will never forget how I became acquainted with them, albeit unofficially. I'm sitting in the junior choir--front row, to the immediate left of my sister-friend, Joie. Seated on the other side of Joie is our other sister-friend and fellow soprano, Sport. Sport is highly-active and I'm almost certain that she emerged from her mother's womb with a tennis racket and basketball in tow. Devotional service is well underway, and the hymns of Zion are being lifted, hopefully making a joyful noise unto the Lord. The time for prayer is not quite yet, and movement throughout the aisles is still permissible. An adult member walks down the center aisle en route to her preferred-unassisgned seat. Her jacket opens with the briskness of her steps, revealing the large protrusion of her abdomen. Sport grimaces and says, "What is going on with her stomach?" The corners of Joie's mouth turn as she shakes her head and says, "Fibroids, girl."
The word, "fibroid," was totally unfamiliar to me, and I said, "What is a fibroid?" The sound of it conjured the appearance of an asteroid in my mind, and I contemplated if it were an actual English word. From both Joie's pitiful expression and the look of the adult member's stomach, I knew it was something I didn't want. Joie's response? "You don't wanna know."
While living in Brooklyn, I awakened one morning and looked down the center-line of my body. The right side of my stomach was raised and there appeared to be a knot there. I ran my hand over my abdomen and felt the growth. I pushed it and it shifted. I pushed it back once more and it shifted itself right back to its original position. Having the disposition of a starving artist, I hadn't eaten a large meal the night before, and this growth and its seemingly overnight-appearance was quite perplexing. I figured it--whatever "it" was, would just go away on its own. Preferably with the completion of the elimination process of my next meal. Sans prior knowledge of exactly when that would be, it was time to scurry up Tompkins Avenue, hop on the A train and find some work. The growth, its true identity and subsequent remedy would simply have to wait until a time more convenient to get some proper attention and care. 
Though not much is known about the origination of fibroids, there seems to be a correlation with heredity and genetics. In 2021, I came to discover that fibroids have affected several women in my maternal line. I'll deliberately refrain from specifications out of an abundance of respect for their privacy--not to mention the flagrant violation of HIPAA laws. I literally just started this blog today, and I needn't get sued within the first forty-eight hours of its existence...or anytime thereafter for that matter.
Brownstone Triumph:
2014, Brooklyn, with Feathered Fall Wreath I Designed
Maternity Ward...
Belly Dance...
Much like the adult church member, a number of years before, my abdomen had noticeably swollen--accompanied therewith by some unfavorable commentary about my appearance--but that's another post. Armed with sufficient insurance, I ventured to a licensed, registered and tenured health care professional for an official diagnosis. I was certain that I had fibroids from the symptoms and scenarios I'd read about in my internet research, and the doctor confirmed my postulations with an ultrasound.
Fibroids, Girl:
2018, Washington, DC, Project Rehearsal Wearing Yoga Leggings I Designed
I recall hearing one of the nurses in the hallway just outside of my door saying, "And [Ultrasound operator's name] said it was huuuuge." My thoughts hovered on a malpractice suit, as I wondered if there was some law being violated, for the discussion about my health condition hadn't yet been conducted with me. The doctor offered some words of comfort and assured me that it wasn't Cancerous. In addition, she provided me with a referral to another doctor--a specialist, that explored more permanent options for fibroid removal.
Another open door. Another stop on this journey.
Is this "Farewell, Fibroids!" forever or will it be a hoax?
Find Out Yay or Nay in the Next Post.
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