Suffering, to some of us, is the only true intimacy we have ever known. It never leaves. It never forsakes us. It is so deeply entrenched in our psyche that we know no other normal. Suffering, an all too familiar element in my life; I wish it never was, I wish I knew of happiness longer. But now, or just for now, I must face my challenges and overcome them as soon as I can; or as soon as I learn how.
Fibroids, the name, the pestilence, a thing that makes me yearn to have a discussion with Eve when I meet her and ask her why. Why did she opt for temporary pleasures when she, no I, her descendant could have partaken in the goodness that was Eden? Now, I know pain and suffering because of her. Now my daily concerns are cocooned in whether to bear the series of lethal assassination attempts by faulty machinations of my own body, or just to get rid of the part itself and deal with the psychological ramifications.
I am tired. I am tired of suffering. Just when I thought that I triumphed and overcame the suffering in this region of my body, it seems there was another regiment, hidden, even more dastardly than I thought. But, I won’t give up hope. I won’t forgo my want of happiness and all that it entails. I won’t give in to the psychological leanings to melancholy.
I invite you to journey through my experience with suffering. It is not owned by me, but by more than 80% of black women on this earth. While we all do not ascend to the same levels of suffering with these diseases, it is the majority of us who keep gynaecologists paid and cycle through their practice with the turn of every season.
Some of you have even been deceived and strung along by these practitioners. Where relief could have been offered to us sooner, we are strung along for the dollar we have in our pocket and ultimately lead to a stage where we have no dollars, cents or pennies in our pocket, purse or bank accounts. We become dependent on our loved ones for financial support just to eat. The surgery is expensive, worse here in Jamaica. Our economy isn’t kind, and no one more than I have been practically left penniless, hungry and still, suffering.
More information is provided in my book. See details below.
Check out her book Fibroids: The Alien Assassins in My Body
In this testimonial, Denise shares intimate details from her childhood through to adulthood. She discusses, how fibroids or as they are also called myomas, fibromyomas, or leiomyomas, have affected her daily life and the adjustments that she was forced to make. After reading this book, women will become more informed about a disease that affects 80 percent of women; while making life miserable for one in four.
Copyright © 2016, Denise N. Fyffe, The Island Journal