the time i got sick

While pregnant with my daughter, at around the 4-5 month mark, I started to suffer from vertigo. I continued to work at first…until I couldn’t anymore. I wasn’t eating, driving or cleaning. My dad (who is a family doctor) made me see an otolaryngologist who wasn’t sure what was going on (possibly vestibular dysfunction after an Epley manoeuvre proved ineffective). He sent me to a neurologist who conducted a whole barrel of tests including an MRI Brain.

After several missed antenatal appointments, the midwives told me if I didn’t show up they would have to call child services so I forcibly went in. I was waiting on the results of the MRI when I (barely) walked into the midwives clinic - eyes mostly shut, gaunt and wobbly. They admitted me. I spent a week in hospital and was sent home on Vitamin B and advised to take it easy.

I remember sitting next to my husband as he was driving (we were also looking for a house at the time) and telling him, “I feel you doubt my dizziness is real. That it’s not that bad.” I was crying and I remember how my body felt - like a tonne of bricks was trying to find its way down my throat into my gut. To not be believed when all I’ve done in life is believe people and try to help them felt so lonely. I had abandoned myself enough times that when I needed to be seen and heard - it felt unacceptable.

I’ll cut the story short - I ended up spending 2 weeks in another hospital where, after another MRI Brain and lumbar puncture - they discovered I had retinal vasculitis. But couldn’t work out why. The solution was corticosteroids. I would see the ophthalmologist weekly and finally gave birth to a healthy baby girl! There were worries I might have Behçet's disease and they considered multiple sclerosis (mum has it) but there was nothing concrete.

Fast forward to 2020. In the midst of COVID I started having panic attacks and started seeing a counsellor (an absolute God-send). At the time I was reading ‘When the body says no’ by Gabor Maté and came across some of the personality traits and repressed emotions that could lead to chronic conditions. I told my counsellor my greatest fear - that my people-pleasing, ‘‘I-have-no-needs’ mentality had caused my body to say ‘no’ in the form of retinal vasculitis. And it would do it again if I didn’t change. My counsellor walked with me through that journey (and still does).

In 2023, I gave birth to a boy and exhibited no signs of retinal vasculitis. I haven’t experienced many ‘suddenlies’ in my own life and hence I want to be clear that I’m not suggesting I found the cure. I’m sharing my story so you can also find yours.

shame walked in

At work I generally step out of my room and call on the next patient I intend to see.

But she was different. Once we had gotten to know each other I didn’t have to look up, I knew she had stepped into my room. With excitement in my eyes but dread in my neck I encourage her in.

It’s funny (like ‘oh your grandpa died on the same day as mine’ is funny). My very first encounter with this woman does not correlate with the way I see her now. When I first met her she told me she wanted a vaginal exam because she’d had some bleeding. It took a long time to reach the conclusion that she had been raped. Rape was not new for her. She had been raped repeatedly throughout her marriage. So potentially she wasn’t even worried about the bleeding she just wanted to make sure she wasn’t pregnant.

It wasn’t her walking into my room though.

It was shame.

Shame masquerading as a protector.

Protecting her from further harm at the hands of another abuser. Shame tells her ‘you aren’t worth anyone’s time, you are powerless to the whims of others, you deserve to be alone, nothing will change for you, you are used goods and should’ve died a long time ago.’

So when I ask her, “what do you think you (your body, your little girl, your heart, YOU) need right now?”

I get deep wailing tears. A chaotic mess of “even my kids hate me, what did I do to deserve this, I should just prostitute myself - my family already thinks I do”.

And she shakes and dries her tears and shrugs her shoulders and tells me she’s cried enough.

She tells me all the therapy she gets just makes her relive the trauma.

I’d love to say that I helped this lady.

I’d love to say that I no longer dread seeing her.

What I can say…is that I see her as strong, as beautiful, as courageous, as a fighter, a truth-teller, a young whimsical girl.

And I will keep holding this space for her til she is ready to see herself too.