A Note from Me
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Over the last two weeks, I've experienced one of the hardest health challenges of my life.
It all started with what I thought would be a routine dental appointment. Instead, I found out that a root canal I had nearly 20 years ago had become infected.
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I remember thinking...
How is that even possible?
I had no idea something from so long ago could suddenly become such a serious problem.
What followed was two weeks that I honestly don't think I'll ever forget.
I've lived through injuries after a car accident.
I've had an unmedicated birth with my daughter, Eriana.
Neither compared to this.
The pain was relentless. There wasn't a moment where I forgot about it. Every few hours I found myself watching the clock, waiting for my next dose of Tylenol and ibuprofen, hoping it would take just enough of the edge off. If you know me, you know I don't like taking medication unless I absolutely have to. Suddenly, I was counting down the minutes until I could take more.
But if I'm honest...
The pain wasn't the hardest part.
The hardest part was feeling like I had to convince people how much pain I was actually in.
The first challenge was simply getting a referral approved. Once that happened, I learned the specialist couldn't see me for another two weeks.
Two weeks.
I remember thinking, I can't do this for another two weeks.
So I started asking questions.
I went back to my dentist's office in person to see if there were other options. They gave me a list of specialists, and thankfully the first office was able to see me the very next day.
I was hopeful.
Instead, I left feeling defeated.
I remember sitting in my car and crying because I knew I was still in excruciating pain and didn't know what was going to happen next.
Over the next day, things got worse.
I developed a fever.
The over the counter medication wasn't helping anymore.
I didn't feel like myself.
Urgent Care sent me to the emergency room, where I received pain killers and IV antibiotics because the infection had become so severe.
Later that night, I developed an abscess and called the dentist who was on call.
One comment has stayed with me.
He told me that people often exaggerate situations like this.
Maybe some people do.
But I wasn't exaggerating.
I knew something wasn't right.
The next morning, before my extraction, the oral surgeon looked at me and said he was really glad I had gone to the hospital because infections like mine can become life threatening if they aren't treated in time.
I've thought about that conversation every day since.
Not because I'm angry.
Not because I blame anyone.
But because one question keeps coming back.
What if I had just waited?
What if I had convinced myself I was overreacting?
What if I had accepted the first answer I was given?
What if I had ignored what my body was trying to tell me?
As I've sat with this experience over the last few days, I keep asking myself what it was trying to teach me.
I know there's a lesson in here.
I think it's this.
Sometimes we spend so much time worrying about whether we're inconveniencing someone else that we stop listening to ourselves.
I can't tell you how many times I wondered if I was being too much.
Too persistent.
Too emotional.
Too impatient.
And I know I'm not the only one.
Maybe you've felt that way at work.
Maybe you've felt that way in a relationship.
Maybe you've felt that way trying to set a boundary.
Or maybe you've felt that way sitting in a doctor's office.
This isn't a story about distrusting healthcare professionals. Throughout this experience I met incredible providers who genuinely cared for me, and I'm deeply grateful for them.
This is a story about remembering that while healthcare professionals bring years of knowledge and experience, we are the experts on our own lived experience.
If something doesn't feel right, it's okay to ask another question.
It's okay to seek another opinion.
It's okay to keep advocating for yourself with kindness and respect.
Even as I write this from what was supposed to be a relaxing week away with my family, I can tell the stress is still in my body.
I'm sleeping more.
My brain keeps replaying conversations.
I'm exhausted.
Reading The Body Keeps the Score and Burnout has given me language for something I've been experiencing firsthand.
Just because the emergency is over doesn't mean my body immediately knows it's over too.
Healing takes time.
Not just physically.
Emotionally, too.
If you'd asked me two weeks ago what self-care looked like, I probably would have talked about nourishing meals, movement, sleep, getting outside or a different version of this.
This experience reminded me that sometimes self-care looks different.
Sometimes it looks like asking one more question.
Sometimes it looks like speaking up when every part of you wants to stay quiet.
Sometimes it looks like trusting yourself enough to believe that what you're feeling matters.
