I'm Trading Eleven Scars for One

I Said, "No More Secrets," and I Meant It (read Blog: No more Secrets)

You read that right. I'm going into surgery with eleven scars, and I'm coming out with one.

A year and a half ago, while at the doctor (I had another infection, something I've been living with regularly since they accidentally removed my ureter eight years ago) my OB said something that shocked me… surgery. It was shocking because he and my medical team have said surgery is something I need to avoid at all costs. Bladder reconstruction surgery to put my urinary tract back together, combined with severe endometriosis that has left my insides scarred, has made my body altered and vulnerable. Surgery, for me, was dangerous. But that day, my OB indeed said… "surgery."

I won't say much (I'm a perpetual oversharer), but this is what I will say: I have eleven scars that sit on my lower abdomen (I'm 5'3" so not a huge space). If you tally my eleven scars it's 33 inches (almost an entire yard)… again, on a relatively small portion of my body. Needless to say, this area is struggling… it's sick. Constant skin infections in this area complicate life for me, and because of where they are (lower abdomen), they're affecting more vulnerable places on my body, making me more susceptible to UTIs. That's all I will say about it… but you do the math or the biology.

Truth be told… I have a love hate relationship with my scars. I can't deny, they have made me who I am. They are proof that I survived. They are a map of my past. A reminder of what I have overcome. Also… intertwined with my eleven surgical scars are what I consider to be my beautiful scars. The scars from my pregnancies… what I like to affectionately call my baby pouch, endearingly gifted to me through the miracle of being able to grow three babies in my womb. Stretch marks that show how beautiful God's design is, my body's ability to stretch without breaking. All beautiful!!! All me. But the scars, all the scars, must go.

John and I have sat on this and contemplated this for a year and a half. And we decided… I decided, I'm taking control of my health.

This surgery will remove those eleven scars and I will only be left with one. I have scars on my back like where they placed my nephrostomy tube but the scars on my back haven't posed any problem and neither will the singular scar that will be left on my abdomen from this surgery. So… if you haven't already figured it out… this means my body is going to look different. I'm still trying to reconcile that. But I've come out of surgeries before with a changed body so in truth, this isn't anything new to me. Except… it's the opposite. Instead of more scars, I will have less. It's a strange thought… I know it will be hard, probably in ways I don't expect. I imagine I won't fully grasp the magnitude until I look at myself in the mirror.

You might ask what recovery looks like, and honestly, I don't know yet. All of the conversations and all the research in the world can't predict recovery after surgery, but it's outpatient, and while I'll have to be very careful the first few weeks, I should be back to normal, actually BETTER than normal, by the end of next month. This isn't a magic pill. The reality is a surgeon accidentally removed my ureter instead of my ovary. Because of that, UTI infections and potential kidney loss will only increase and get more complicated as I age, but removing this health complication will give me better health. I plan to live a long life. I know that sounds funny, but after surviving what I did eight years ago, I feel confident God is not done with me yet!! I plan to be around for John, my girls, and you, my Sarahfide community, as long as God allows.

Sarahfide was born because of my health struggles, but Sarahfide has grown up. What started as therapy and healing has become a thriving business, a beautiful community, and a life I love. Pouring my soul into every tiny wood bead has given me more healing than I ever thought imaginable. I want to match the energy of what Sarahfide has become. I don't want to just survive, I want to thrive, just like Sarahfide.

This has made me reflect on my entire medical journey. I remember coming out of surgery with my first scar. I was 19. I had been told I had a dermoid cyst and it threatened my ovary. It started as a laparoscopic surgery but due to an arterial injury during needle insertion (yes… when they accidentally removed my ureter, that was NOT the first medical accident I had lived through), it turned a simple laparoscopic procedure into a laparotomy. The first of my eleven. It's strange and it feels a little like I'm going back in time. I remember being devastated while also having the maturity to understand the need for it. That girl is me… the woman who carries the baggage of a life full of medical struggles on her abdomen, literally, is me… and a week from now, the woman who is trading her eleven scars for one… she's me too.