Salut Mon Ami!

So I’ve been doing this series titled, ‘Unspoken Conversations’. Basically letters to people who I needed to have said something but never did, or say things they needed to have known but I hadn’t revealed, or just for closure on both sides.

Yours was one I avoided for the longest time. At first, it was because I didn’t want it to seem as though I was trying to initiate something by opening up. Then after it was safe enough to do so, I was so excited about your relationship and how happy you were; I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. But my journey with vulnerability and authenticity demands that I don’t leave any words unspoken.

I’m not sure I remember the exact moment we met. Lol, but I remember how I had esteemed you very highly: you were in this almost sacred league of intelligent people who really had their shit together! The next thing I recall was you coming to our school; still in the league I had a holy fear of.

But first year in campus came and we’d become great friends by then. I thoroughly enjoyed our conversations! I loved how we’d talk about anything from fighter jets, to army stuff, to Law, then spiritual stuff and whatever other silly conversation. Just so you know, you still hold the record for my longest phone call. I haven’t managed to do another 6 and a half hours call.

Somewhere along the way, the chemistry was undeniable. I remember how we’d laugh at how similar we were and you once said I was like the female version of you. Naturally, feelings sprouted. But I was quite guarded. Then just as I started allowing myself to go with the flow, you said you thought we should cut down our calls because ours, plus the other people you were talking to, made it hard to get enough sleep. I was hurt! I immediately cut you off.

However, all through campus, we kept talking and hanging out every now and then. Even through your relationships and my situationships. My friends kept asking me about you because they were dead sure we’d end up together.

Then we ended up in the same church (well, again, since we’d also been to two others at the same time). This time round, the chemistry was undeniable for me. But you’d just been from a break up and I feared I’d be a mere rebound. I fought hard to hide how I felt, but I couldn’t keep away from you.

Then you started dating again; I really liked her and loved her children! I was genuinely happy for both of you and nursed my heartbreak quietly. I kept telling myself that every sign I’d gotten, no matter how legit it was, must have been false or something.

Well, until you guys broke up and I was terrified that maybe everything wasn’t false. But again, I’d seen you through several serious relationships; I didn’t want to be just another added number. However, I knew I couldn’t really be certain and be at peace about all the signs not being true, until I’d seen you officially married.

Thankfully, years passed. We both grew into different people and I no longer had anything hanging over me. We drifted apart and all was good. That’s why, long after everything, I didn’t want to tell you because there was no point.

But like I said, vulnerability wouldn’t let me simply bury something that was quite significant at some point.

Anyway, all in all, you were one amazing friend and we had such great times!! When I finally write books about my life, you sure will feature. Thanks for having been an incredible friend, for challenging me and inspiring me to grow in ways I couldn’t explain.

Au revoir!

Op Day

I can’t believe I’m seated here a whole 5 weeks post-op. Honestly, I had spent so much time freaking out and going through all the things that could go wrong, that I didn’t think of what happens afterwards. I had already prepared myself for all the risks: reacting to the anaesthetic, bleeding out and either needing a transfusion, or having my uterus removed to save me, dying on the table, waking up in the middle of surgery and screaming due to pain, and the cold theatre causing asthmatic attacks that kill me. But even if none of those occurred, I expected excruciating pain.

I remember that morning very vividly. Being a little sleep deprived, waking up around 5a.m and the major mistake that was showering with cold water because I was getting late. I was fairly calm, I had to force myself to not think because my blood pressure had been acting up and I was told if it didn’t stabilise, I’d be sent home. I had hoped I’d be knocked out before being taken to Theatre. Lol, I was wheeled all the way while I watched. The only silver lining was that I got to see the Theatre and it looked nothing like the cold dark rooms I had expected.

All I remember is being plugged onto machines and gadgets; the last thing I heard playing was weirdly, a song I didn’t even like: Extravaganza by Sauti Sol. Next thing I know I was back in my room surrounded by nurses and doctors. You’d think I’d be busy trying to rest, nah, clearly being a firstborn and control freak is not something that takes a break. I was busy ordering people around asking for all the warm clothes I’d packed plus a heater. Can’t blame me though, I was freezing and there was no way I’d allow an asthma attack to be my end after surviving surgery.

You know, it’s weird how things feel afterwards; my stomach felt strange but none of that excruciating pain. I don’t even know how to describe it. I woke up feeling as though I’d just woken up from a nap but yet to commence the surgery. Until I heard one of the nurses explaining to another that I’d just had an open myomectomy. Everything felt surreal; as though I was in the middle of a dream.

Remember me saying I was a control freak, I fought sleep the rest of the day! I was not about to sleep and slip into a coma or something (Lol, blame my over imaginative brain plus anxiety). Before I knew it, it was lunch time and family and friends started streaming in.

I must say, that day, it took some pretty incredible ladies to get me through. From the very sweet and understanding nurses, my doctor (she’s a kick-ass gyna), the wonderful anaesthesist (she had this amazing aura and was a ball of cheer!), and one of my closest girlfriends who had slept in hospital with me and got me through a lot! This woman travelled a few days earlier to be there as I prepared for surgery. I don’t think I’d have survived the overwhelming anxiety if it wasn’t for her.

Now look at me here a whole 5 weeks later and just 4 days away from completing my 6-week bed rest! I still can’t believe it’s over and I’m here.