In 1985, I was 16. I underwent a routine termination of pregnancy. It was far from routine.
I awoke on a gynaecology ward, in a hospital bed, in searing pain. The only parts of my body I could move were my feet. A nurse’s voice drifted over my woozy state, told me there’d been a lot of problems and that they’d had to open me up.’
I slipped my hand down to my belly, felt the yield of surgical padding covering the lower half. It stretched from hip to hip.
It would be another 10 years before I’d discover the truth. That, the operating gynaecologist slipped whilst removing the products of conception and perforated my uterus. When I became gravely ill at 23, the medical profession turned their backs on me. Closed ranks was how my solicitor phrased it when I found myself in his office, no doctor, no gynaecologist and no understanding of what was wrong with me. So began a life long journey with surgical endometriosis caused by a perforation to the uterus which left me with compromised fertility.
Here, I share that journey. I the hope that it will empower you to make the decisions right for you, be informed, help heal the emotional scars and get the best from gynaecology.
Since 1988 I have seen many, many gynaecologists. Of that many, two saved my life and two changed it forever, for the better.
Much gratitude to their knowledge of medicine, bedside manner, wisdom, and kindness.
Om Shanti.
Stella Raven.
Stella McHugh – Writer 