The good with the bad

WARNING: this post may cause triggers related to sexual assault

Welcome back!

I know I’ve been MIA for a bit, but life just keeps on going. There has been good news mixed in with the bad, and that’s what’s running through my mind. Lately, my life has not been the easiest. I have been given more bad news than good, but I’ve adapted and continued on.

May 31 I had my procedure to remove the rest of my reproductive system as well as the majority of my peritoneum. The procedure went well without complications (good), but the healing process has been long and hard with complications after surgery (bad), but I’m still going. Two days post-op, I was still bleeding heavily and later found that I ended up tearing stitches again and would have to have another procedure to close up and place a drain. Once this was completed, I was placed on restricted bed rest and was not able to move for 72 hours to give my body a chance to catch up. Let me just say, not moving for 3 days definitely tested my sanity, especially since I can’t personally do visitors.

My goal with this blog is to be able to open up about what life has given and taken from me to help others, so with that, here’s some background with visitors for me:

This does not come from a bad experience with visitors for me, per say. My parents ended up divorcing when I was 13. After the divorce, my dad came out gay, and back then it was terrible for anyone who was gay, or, in my case, related to a gay person. I lost majority of my friendships from either them or their parents not wanting them to be around gay person or someone related to a gay person. This left me very isolated and in search of any acceptance. I had one friend who stayed with me and I thought it was out of true care and support for me; his name is Jake. Jake was someone I thought I could always trust and felt safe around. I’d hang with him at his house or out-and-about and enjoyed his company. One night, I went to his place like normal to talk about the divorce and how I was managing it. He gave me a glass of water like normal and woke up a few hours later tied to his bed, naked, with him standing over me; I was drugged. That night, Jake raped me, beat me, and did everything his heart desired. He never loosened the restraints during the rape, he just told me all he wanted to do to me and proceeded to follow through with his words. How can someone who has always been there for me tied me to a bed and rape me?

After he was done with me, he got up and walked away. He came back a little while later and threw a sheet over me, untied me, and carried me out to his car. I fought with all the energy I could muster, but he easily managed to restrain me in his arms. At this point, I was terrified of where he’d take me and what he was going to do next. Is he going to rape me again? Is he going to kill me? I was honestly terrified for my life because this guy I thought I knew just took advantage of me.

We drove for about 30 minutes and he seemed to debate on what he should do. We eventually stopped in a place I was not acquainted with and he pulled me out of the car and drove off, leaving me in a heap of blood and tears with only a sheet to cover myself on the sidewalk. It was around 0200 at this time. I stayed there for what seemed like forever until someone finally stopped and helped me; thankfully it was a women. I cannot remember any of the conversation we had that night. We only had to walk two blocks to the nearby hospital where they admitted me and started the tests and screenings they needed to perform. I left a few days later with a hairline fracture in my cheek bone, a severely bruised jaw, and various cuts and bruises covering my body; when I left, I was told I was not impregnated.

During this time in the hospital, I only saw my parents when they had to sign papers and take me home. They didn’t visit me when they had the chance and wouldn’t look at me when they signed the papers. I’d understand if they didn’t want to see me, but my mom refuses that I was ever raped and my dad just doesn’t talk about it. This is how it has always been and continues to be.

I’ve eventually accepted this for what it is. I am more independent than I ever thought I’d be, and I’ve become very good at managing all my medical necessities on my own. But with Jake destroying my trust and my parents, the people who should always be there for their kids, not giving a shit and showing up, I no longer feel that I can trust anyone that enters my hospital room. Also, being in a hospital bed puts my PTSD on high alert for anything out of the ordinary. So with all this considered, it is easier for me to not have visitors during my hospital stays.

Going back to the beginning of this post, I spent a total of 12 days in my most recent hospital stay. It consisted of everything needed for recovery and provided an environment for me to focus on what I needed to do to recover the quickest and healthiest. I’m now at a little over two weeks post-op. I have received news that surgery removed everything that was needed out (good), but I’ll have to have more tests and scans to figure out why my stomach is still as distended as it is (bad). But, all I can do is keep going and do as I’m told to recover and be able to continue living my life.

I will live and I will be a survivor. To me, that is not a choice. I have to put all I can into fighting this fight so I can live the life that is in front of me. I know I have so many opportunities in front of me. There are things I want to do and so many places to see. That is my motivation to push through and win this fight. I will win, even if I lose parts of me along the way.

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