"When Allah decreed the Creation He pledged Himself by writing in His book which is laid down with Him: My Mercy prevails over My Wrath" Hadith (Muslim; al-Bukhari)
Saturday, July 05, 2014
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
The Journey
So I was feeling a bit 'blah' tonight (yes that's an official medical term!) and thought maybe I would start blogging about my experiences in the last few weeks and months - just as a reminder to myself. Its been a bit of a journey!
So a few months ago I ended up at the doctors because I was feeling unwell (not uncommon for me!) and after a bit of drama (my almost collapsing at the doctors) and a few ultrasounds, it turned out I had fibroids; which are basically benign tumours on the uterus. After a little bit of time, and a referral to a hospital, I ended up consulting with a clinical gynaecologist who referred me to do an MRI scan as she was unhappy with the results of my multiple ultrasounds. She advised me that I may have to have surgery if my symptoms continued.
As usual, at this point I was just going with the flow, not particularly worried that my fibroids would be too bothersome or that they would be cancerous (I was informed that this was a very low possibility). It's not like my worrying would have changed anything so decided to leave everything with Allah.
Meanwhile, my little sister had arrived in Doha for a little holiday- little did she know what was in store for her!!
The MRI was an adventure in itself. Now I am fairly claustrophobic (it seems to get worse with age) and when I was confronted with the MRI machine in the hospital of my choice, I knew we had a problem. A long narrow tube I had to get into for a good long length of time?! Not gonna happen!! Still, I didn't see a way around it so I tried. God knows I tried.
I changed into my hospital gown as instructed, I lay down on the tray-thing that slides into the MRI, the technician helpfully put some earphones over my ears (which were playing the Quran - which I thought would really really help!), and then I closed my eyes as the tray slid into the MRI.
AT this point I made a MAJOR mistake - I opened my eyes. Uh oh. The ceiling of the machine was 2inches from my nose - my heart stuttered and I started to hyperventilate. So before I started acting like a totally ninny and bashing the interior of the machine, I got the technician to pull me out. After about 5min I thought I had calmed down enough to give it all another go, so I tried again. Nope, I started to hyperventilate. Again. Out I slid, God I felt like the exit was so slow!! I wanted to claw at the interior of the machine but retrained myself. I deserve a medal!
Breathe in and breathe out. I told myself I was being silly. That there was nothing to worry about. Third times the charm - so tried again. I was in there for about 15seconds before I freaked out yet again and got the poor, patient technician to pull me out. That's it - I can't do it, I told them. But then what others options were there? I had to have an MRI.
So thankfully, it turns out I can just be referred to a hospital that has an open MRI machine. So a few days later - thats where my sister and I were. Once again, I changed into my gown (very attractive, those hospital gowns!), lay down on the MRI try and slid in. Thankfully this time my sister could be in the room with me, and bless her and Lord reward her, she kept me sane. She maintained eye contact with me through whole 45min MRI, she didn't stop distracting me till it was all over. I don't think I could have done it without her - though I would like to think I would have found the strength somehow.
A few days later, I was told I had one big fibroid and I needed surgery. There were a lot of different scenarios that could occur and that meant I had a lot of thinking to do. On the advice of my sister I got a second opinion at another hospital - which eventually (after yet another ultrasound) agreed with the first opinion. I needed surgery.
Now this last ultrasound was done by a man; which is unusual. What was even more unusual was, that after I lay on the bed ready for my ultrasound with the jelly on my tummy - the dude decided to answer his fone and have a conversation while I lay there all exposed!!! I didn't know whether to laugh or slap him. I mean, seriously!
SO anyway - now I had 2 drs that basically told me the same thing - surgery. I hate surgery. It means general anaesthetic, which totally freaks me out, it means pain, it means inconvenience and it means time off work. Regardless of all of that, its just something that had to be done.
Can I just state, I hate having cannulas fitted to the back of my hand?! Horrible things! The first one was in my left hand and it just kept hurting. I knew it was hurting and I tried very hard to brave about it and take the pain but eventually I complained. In these situations, I never know if I am just being a big, complaining baby or if it really is as bad as it feels. How do you ever know the difference??
So on 29/12/12 - I had my surgery. The last thing I asked them before the anaesthetic burned its way through my veins was - could I please get pictures, if not the tumour itself?! A girl should have a memento!
So some time later, I woke up. The world wasn't very clear, I felt very blurry and groggy and out of it but one thing was clear - pain. A whole lot of pain. Now my pain threshold is pretty high (or so I think anyway) but this was agonising. I felt like I had been cut open - which I had. But surely, I should not be feeling it to this extent. For the first time in my life I begged for pain relief. I remember telling the nurses it HURT. They told me I had to wait... I wondered if they were waiting for me to scream, cos I was close!
Some time later, who knows how long - I was doped up... I was in my nice private room in the ward. I was hooked up to pain meds, narcotics, and was told to wait 15-30mins for them to start working. I had one of those drip things where if I press I button I could get more pain meds - so basically I could self-regulate..... it was so tempting to just keep my finger on that button! An hour later nothing had changed. I was in agony. 2 hours passed. Then 3. I think I cried. Or maybe I just tried to. I remember thinking at some point, quite randomly, 'I would like to cry but I may be dehydrated... I have no tears.'.... I have no idea what happened exactly - the whole day was one long excruciating blur of pain. I kept telling them that the pain was not decreasing. The meds were not working. In the end, I got some kind of injection of another narcotic.
That was horrible. Horrible.
So there I was in agony because I could feel the 10inch gash that was stitched across my stomach. AND then to top it off, my body decided it absolutely HATED the narcotics and started to be sick. At this point I have to mention I had not eaten or drunk anything in 2 days. So wretched and wretched but there was nothing there. For those of you who have never had a caesarian - it is a very very VERY bad idea to be nauseous and be physically sick with stitches across your stomach. Those were some very awful moments which I do not have the words to convey the true agony of. Suffice to say - ow.
A very nice nurse helped me breathe through it - at one point, I thought I never would. It felt like it lasted forever, but like everything, it passed. I finally begged them to disconnect me from the narcotics- they were just plain bad for me. Instead they put me on plain paracetamol, which just dulled the pain but as far as I was concerned was infinitely better. I would rather just put up with some pain that that agony of pain and nausea I had been through. It was some hours before I felt better - it took some time for the narcotics to work their way through, but I was so glad when they were gone! Alhamdulillah!
The next few days were uncomfortable, sleeping and eating were things I just did not want to do. My sister was extremely helpful and supportive during this time, in fact during the whole experience she was amazing. May Allah reward her.
However, by the 3rd day I was on my feet - although I wasn't exactly steady and walking was not the most fun thing ever. It was painful, I couldn't straighten properly, every step could be felt in my stitches and yet, walking was the best thing for my healing so I walked as I could - although at this point just a few steps tired me out completely. Walking to the toilet next door was enough to wipe me out - and that was 5 steps away!
I started to hate the hospital bed - it was too soft and I felt like I kept sinking into it and it was starting to really hurt my back. So now my front hurt AND my back - just great.
By New Years day I was feeling better -still not amazing, but compared to those first couple of days, much better. I could walk without agony, I could walk to the door by myself, I was eating - life was grand-er! :)
Subhanallah, perspective is such a wonderful thing. At any other time in my life, these days would have been horrible but compared to how I was straight after the op - I was counting my blessings!
The nurses tried to offer me narcotics another couple of times for my pain and general comfort - I was very firm about NEVER AGAIN!
My friends came and welcomed in the new year in my hospital room - which was so nice! They made me smile and laugh (although at this point, I was somewhat comical as I could only laugh by saying HaHa! a bit like Sheldon from BBT!Lol)...... I escaped from the hospital and drove a BMW convertible at 120Kph even though I couldnt actually turn my head or body! Bad girl, I know! But I thought I'd treat myself (by endangering my life and all those around me!); considering at this point, I still couldnt walk totally upright - it felt like such an achievement!
I got the pictures of my operation which were very interesting, to me at least! My tumour turned out to be pretty darn massive - bigger than my uterus, in fact! I think it looks kinda like a baby hippo...I want to name it but cant think of anything appropriate! Suggestions anyone?!
I also have a picture of the surgeon's hands inside my body - which I find fascinating..... plus I now have a picture of my uterus - how many girls can say that?! lol
5 days after my operation, I was released from the hospital into the very caring hands of my sister and I returned to my flat in Doha. Here I rested some more, and still rest, waiting to recover completely. Which I am told will take another 4-6 weeks at least but alhamdulillah, the end is in sight.
SO much happened as part of this experience, I wanted to get some of the basics down so I don't forget.
I dread going back to work because I am unsure if I can cope but I know I have to... I still feel like I have let the people at work down by missing all this time off work - but it is not like I have had a choice.... I need to just concentrate on what is important now and get through this.
Insha'allah, I have gained from this experience.
So a few months ago I ended up at the doctors because I was feeling unwell (not uncommon for me!) and after a bit of drama (my almost collapsing at the doctors) and a few ultrasounds, it turned out I had fibroids; which are basically benign tumours on the uterus. After a little bit of time, and a referral to a hospital, I ended up consulting with a clinical gynaecologist who referred me to do an MRI scan as she was unhappy with the results of my multiple ultrasounds. She advised me that I may have to have surgery if my symptoms continued.
As usual, at this point I was just going with the flow, not particularly worried that my fibroids would be too bothersome or that they would be cancerous (I was informed that this was a very low possibility). It's not like my worrying would have changed anything so decided to leave everything with Allah.
Meanwhile, my little sister had arrived in Doha for a little holiday- little did she know what was in store for her!!
The MRI was an adventure in itself. Now I am fairly claustrophobic (it seems to get worse with age) and when I was confronted with the MRI machine in the hospital of my choice, I knew we had a problem. A long narrow tube I had to get into for a good long length of time?! Not gonna happen!! Still, I didn't see a way around it so I tried. God knows I tried.
I changed into my hospital gown as instructed, I lay down on the tray-thing that slides into the MRI, the technician helpfully put some earphones over my ears (which were playing the Quran - which I thought would really really help!), and then I closed my eyes as the tray slid into the MRI.
AT this point I made a MAJOR mistake - I opened my eyes. Uh oh. The ceiling of the machine was 2inches from my nose - my heart stuttered and I started to hyperventilate. So before I started acting like a totally ninny and bashing the interior of the machine, I got the technician to pull me out. After about 5min I thought I had calmed down enough to give it all another go, so I tried again. Nope, I started to hyperventilate. Again. Out I slid, God I felt like the exit was so slow!! I wanted to claw at the interior of the machine but retrained myself. I deserve a medal!
Breathe in and breathe out. I told myself I was being silly. That there was nothing to worry about. Third times the charm - so tried again. I was in there for about 15seconds before I freaked out yet again and got the poor, patient technician to pull me out. That's it - I can't do it, I told them. But then what others options were there? I had to have an MRI.
So thankfully, it turns out I can just be referred to a hospital that has an open MRI machine. So a few days later - thats where my sister and I were. Once again, I changed into my gown (very attractive, those hospital gowns!), lay down on the MRI try and slid in. Thankfully this time my sister could be in the room with me, and bless her and Lord reward her, she kept me sane. She maintained eye contact with me through whole 45min MRI, she didn't stop distracting me till it was all over. I don't think I could have done it without her - though I would like to think I would have found the strength somehow.
A few days later, I was told I had one big fibroid and I needed surgery. There were a lot of different scenarios that could occur and that meant I had a lot of thinking to do. On the advice of my sister I got a second opinion at another hospital - which eventually (after yet another ultrasound) agreed with the first opinion. I needed surgery.
Now this last ultrasound was done by a man; which is unusual. What was even more unusual was, that after I lay on the bed ready for my ultrasound with the jelly on my tummy - the dude decided to answer his fone and have a conversation while I lay there all exposed!!! I didn't know whether to laugh or slap him. I mean, seriously!
SO anyway - now I had 2 drs that basically told me the same thing - surgery. I hate surgery. It means general anaesthetic, which totally freaks me out, it means pain, it means inconvenience and it means time off work. Regardless of all of that, its just something that had to be done.
Can I just state, I hate having cannulas fitted to the back of my hand?! Horrible things! The first one was in my left hand and it just kept hurting. I knew it was hurting and I tried very hard to brave about it and take the pain but eventually I complained. In these situations, I never know if I am just being a big, complaining baby or if it really is as bad as it feels. How do you ever know the difference??
So on 29/12/12 - I had my surgery. The last thing I asked them before the anaesthetic burned its way through my veins was - could I please get pictures, if not the tumour itself?! A girl should have a memento!
So some time later, I woke up. The world wasn't very clear, I felt very blurry and groggy and out of it but one thing was clear - pain. A whole lot of pain. Now my pain threshold is pretty high (or so I think anyway) but this was agonising. I felt like I had been cut open - which I had. But surely, I should not be feeling it to this extent. For the first time in my life I begged for pain relief. I remember telling the nurses it HURT. They told me I had to wait... I wondered if they were waiting for me to scream, cos I was close!
Some time later, who knows how long - I was doped up... I was in my nice private room in the ward. I was hooked up to pain meds, narcotics, and was told to wait 15-30mins for them to start working. I had one of those drip things where if I press I button I could get more pain meds - so basically I could self-regulate..... it was so tempting to just keep my finger on that button! An hour later nothing had changed. I was in agony. 2 hours passed. Then 3. I think I cried. Or maybe I just tried to. I remember thinking at some point, quite randomly, 'I would like to cry but I may be dehydrated... I have no tears.'.... I have no idea what happened exactly - the whole day was one long excruciating blur of pain. I kept telling them that the pain was not decreasing. The meds were not working. In the end, I got some kind of injection of another narcotic.
That was horrible. Horrible.
So there I was in agony because I could feel the 10inch gash that was stitched across my stomach. AND then to top it off, my body decided it absolutely HATED the narcotics and started to be sick. At this point I have to mention I had not eaten or drunk anything in 2 days. So wretched and wretched but there was nothing there. For those of you who have never had a caesarian - it is a very very VERY bad idea to be nauseous and be physically sick with stitches across your stomach. Those were some very awful moments which I do not have the words to convey the true agony of. Suffice to say - ow.
A very nice nurse helped me breathe through it - at one point, I thought I never would. It felt like it lasted forever, but like everything, it passed. I finally begged them to disconnect me from the narcotics- they were just plain bad for me. Instead they put me on plain paracetamol, which just dulled the pain but as far as I was concerned was infinitely better. I would rather just put up with some pain that that agony of pain and nausea I had been through. It was some hours before I felt better - it took some time for the narcotics to work their way through, but I was so glad when they were gone! Alhamdulillah!
The next few days were uncomfortable, sleeping and eating were things I just did not want to do. My sister was extremely helpful and supportive during this time, in fact during the whole experience she was amazing. May Allah reward her.
However, by the 3rd day I was on my feet - although I wasn't exactly steady and walking was not the most fun thing ever. It was painful, I couldn't straighten properly, every step could be felt in my stitches and yet, walking was the best thing for my healing so I walked as I could - although at this point just a few steps tired me out completely. Walking to the toilet next door was enough to wipe me out - and that was 5 steps away!
I started to hate the hospital bed - it was too soft and I felt like I kept sinking into it and it was starting to really hurt my back. So now my front hurt AND my back - just great.
By New Years day I was feeling better -still not amazing, but compared to those first couple of days, much better. I could walk without agony, I could walk to the door by myself, I was eating - life was grand-er! :)
Subhanallah, perspective is such a wonderful thing. At any other time in my life, these days would have been horrible but compared to how I was straight after the op - I was counting my blessings!
The nurses tried to offer me narcotics another couple of times for my pain and general comfort - I was very firm about NEVER AGAIN!
My friends came and welcomed in the new year in my hospital room - which was so nice! They made me smile and laugh (although at this point, I was somewhat comical as I could only laugh by saying HaHa! a bit like Sheldon from BBT!Lol)...... I escaped from the hospital and drove a BMW convertible at 120Kph even though I couldnt actually turn my head or body! Bad girl, I know! But I thought I'd treat myself (by endangering my life and all those around me!); considering at this point, I still couldnt walk totally upright - it felt like such an achievement!
I got the pictures of my operation which were very interesting, to me at least! My tumour turned out to be pretty darn massive - bigger than my uterus, in fact! I think it looks kinda like a baby hippo...I want to name it but cant think of anything appropriate! Suggestions anyone?!
I also have a picture of the surgeon's hands inside my body - which I find fascinating..... plus I now have a picture of my uterus - how many girls can say that?! lol
5 days after my operation, I was released from the hospital into the very caring hands of my sister and I returned to my flat in Doha. Here I rested some more, and still rest, waiting to recover completely. Which I am told will take another 4-6 weeks at least but alhamdulillah, the end is in sight.
SO much happened as part of this experience, I wanted to get some of the basics down so I don't forget.
I dread going back to work because I am unsure if I can cope but I know I have to... I still feel like I have let the people at work down by missing all this time off work - but it is not like I have had a choice.... I need to just concentrate on what is important now and get through this.
Insha'allah, I have gained from this experience.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
"I know a man who lost his parents but refused to be called an orphan. He was man enough to love a strong woman years older than him, worked for her and made her stronger, opened his heart to her, shared his fears to no one but her. He was faithful to her till her last breath. Cleaned after himself and sewed his own clothes. He was good looking, courageous and fearless. He never judged anyone on their pasts or looks, and was moderate, open minded and tolerant. Intelligent, wise and a hard worker, he built a long lasting nation out of nothing in the last 20 years of his life. This man was a mercy for all mankind, this is Prophet Muhammad." صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ
Saturday, December 03, 2011
quote
'Some liken the heart to the sun, and the head to the moon. The moon does not generate it's own light. What light it has is reflected light from the sun. Once the heart has been illuminated by the remembrance of Allah, the intellect is then illuminated, and not before'- Ahmed Thomson.
"I don't smoke, but I keep a match box in my pocket. Every time my heart slips towards a sin, I light a match & place my palm over it. I then say to myself, 'Oh Ali, you can't even bear this heat, then how will you bear the unbearable heat of Hell fire'."
Muhammad Ali
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
trees
Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky,
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness."
Khalil Gibran
Sunday, November 13, 2011
quote!
"When the people fear their government,there is tyranny; when the government fears its peoples, there is liberty." Thomas Jefferson, 3rd US President.
That's what's missing in today's world!
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