Pieces of Me


The key turned in the front door lock. One o’clock in the morning. Time became frozen, immortalised. A dim light upstairs caught his curiosity. Keys and wallet on the table, suit jacket crumpled onto the back of a chair. In his exhaustion he walked upstairs. In the dim light of the bathroom he found her, his wife paralysed in pain on the floor.


I knew hubby was going to be working back late liaising with his overseas office. AJ and PJ were sound asleep in their beds. More tired than usual I settled in for an early night. One o’clock in the morning. Like someone had clicked their fingers and instantaneously something inside me burst, a rupture and searing pain.

Immediately I clutched my left side, with convulsions of nausea I dragged myself to the bathroom. My thoughts winced more so than the pain. PJ and I ate the same thing for dinner, please God spare him this pain. Oh my God the boys, I am alone with the boys! Please God send hubby home.

As I closed my eyes from the pain his arms reached down and lifted me from the floor. Hubby was home. At one o’clock in the morning synchronicity, coincidence, the Universe, God reached down and lifted me from the floor.

The early hours of that morning played out so quickly, yet in my memory the replay is in slow motion. Remembering the hesitation before we called my mother, knowing the anxiety and panic it would cause. Quickly trading that in for the anxiety and panic my boys would feel if we were to wake them up and drag them to the emergency room with us.

Emergency rooms in the stark hours of early morning are almost an illusion, like they don’t really exist and it is all some weird dream you are willing yourself to wake up from. The reality behind the sliding doors leaves real life flailing in helplessness. There are processes and forms and waiting, so much waiting. But there is also morphine and as I collapsed into hubby’s arms I could feel the morphine numb the pain and ease the panic.


Hours later as I walked back to the car and headed home, clutching a pile of monogrammed paper work I felt raw and vulnerable. A cyst had burst on my left ovary. A cyst I did not know existed. Tests had been scheduled, appointments made and referrals written. In one single moment my life had completely changed. The person who had gone to bed earlier the night before was not the person sitting still and silent in the car on the way home.

In her place was someone I didn’t know. I no longer felt connected to my body. If anything it felt like my spirit hovered ever so slightly just outside my body, staring at it and wondering, who is this person and how did this all happen?

Sure looking back now I can see the warning signs: the four day long migraines, the sheer exhaustion and the dull ache on my left side. But I dismissed it. Working and juggling the life that I do, I just thought migraines and exhaustion were normal, expected even.

But tests upon tests showed that they were not normal, far from it. There were more cysts, aggressive cysts that needed to be removed. It was complicated. I was back in hospital, this time without the emergency. But there still was the panic, the silent prayers in repetition and hands twisting idle in the unknown.


One and a half hours of surgery and what was an endometrioma had been removed and my ovary had been saved. All I was left with was time. In moments of life and death we cling to time in desperation. In moments of recovery time is the mediator. I needed time for a reconciliation between my body and my mind, between self-blame and guilt. I needed time to let it all go.

Join me next week as I talk about the recovery from the past few months and how I slowly woke up from the silence I lingered in.

  • Oh Josefa I’m so sorry you experienced this pain, it just have been scary. Hope you’re feeling better xx

    • It was super scary Carly, on the mend now and my body feels so much better, thank you x

  • Oh Josefa, how awful. I’m glad you are in recovery and able to share your experience. How often do we not stop to listen to our body, when it is clearly trying to tell us something. So glad you are okay. xxxx

    • Ithink that is one lesson I have taken on board Jodi – listen to my mind, listen to my body – sometimes in our haste and exhaustion we can overlook the most important of things x

  • LydiaCLee

    Wow! Glad that worked out alright. I think we all tend to ignore signs we wouldn’t. I always go to the dr with stupid things saying “I know it’s fine but I just don’t want to be the person who died because I didn’t go to the Dr”. (I love my Dr and he knows my peculiarities, so never makes me feel stupid) Hope your recovery is smooth and quick.

    • Recovery has been going well thank you and now I am set to be just like you – going to my doctor for everything that riases my concern – even if that concern is only little 🙂

  • Renee at Mummy, Wife, Me

    Ahh Josefa. Thank God your husband arrived home when he did to rescue you. It sounds like a horribly painful and emotional experience. I’m so glad they were able to save your ovary. Looking forward to hearing more next week xx

    • Gosh Renee the pain was unbearable and women I have spoken to who have had the same experience say the same thing! It is so important to share these stories and create that sense of sameness in situations like this xx

  • Oh Josefa that sounds terrible and scary. We always assume our bodies will carry us but give us translatable signs when something is wrong. It’s always a shock when things pop up so unexpected.
    I’m glad the cause was discovered before you experienced any further pain xx

    • Yes the shock was certianly quite significant and perhaps not just a shock that something was wrong, but that I had overlooked it!

  • Donna Webeck

    My goodness what a scary experience! Hope you are healing ok x

  • Malinda

    Oh my Josefa, that must have been horrifyingly scary for you. Big hugs are being sent your way. I hope that you are healing both body and mind. By the way – that was beautifully written. xx

    • Thank you Malinda, body healing well and so is the mind – that took quite a beating from this whole experience as well xx

  • My goodness I feel as though I was there with you, oh the worry, anxiety and pain you have had to suffer. Very scary when our bodies don’t fail, just a reminder we must give them the respect the deserve. I am guilty of treating mine like a work horse 🙁 Take care lovely. x

    • Oh Em, I treat mine like a work horse too! It is terrible. Soemthing I really need to work on becuase ti does not elad to good things for our health xx

  • Kathy www.yinyangmother.com

    So glad hubby came home when he did and you are on the road to recovery.

  • Beck/craftypjmum

    So glad your prayers were answered and hubby came home when he did. Hope your starting to feel better sweetie. Take care xx

  • I really believe that we are somehow ‘in tune’ with those closest to us letting them know that something isn’t quite right. Their instinct tells them to call, to get home, to check-in.. just in case. I’m glad your husband heard the inner call for help. Sorry you had to experience such a scary and painful time. I hope you are feeling much better xx

    • I wholeheartedly believe this too – it seems like my spirit called out to him at a time when I couldn’t xx

  • Sandra | Photobook Moments

    I’m so sorry to hear that! And quite relieved to know you are ok. This must have been such a difficult time. Take care!

    • It was both scary and difficult, many lessons were learnt from it and that is always a good thing xx

  • Oh Josefa!! How scary and awful for you. Words cannot express how I feel. Just hugs xxxxxxx

  • TeganMC

    I’m so sorry that you have been dealing with so much lately. My partner’s daughter has just had surgery to remove cysts from her ovaries (she knew they were there) that had caused her to start hemorrhaging. It was a scary time. I hope that you are feeling better xx

  • The Plumbette

    Gosh Josefa! I had been missing you on the blogosphere and had no idea what happened or if I missed something. What a scare and I’m so glad the surgery was successful. These moments make you realise what is important in life. I hope you’re recovering well. X

    • Yes I have been quiet around these parts, just trying to recover, soak it all in, be still – all the things you need to do after such a shock xx

  • My goodness, you poor thing! How scary! I hope you are on the mend xx

  • WOW, how utterly scary. Glad to hear you’re on the mend

  • What a scary time, I’m so glad you are now at a point where you can share your recovery.

    • Yes, I’m glad I can share this too, I think it was part of my little road to recovery – being able to share my story here xx

  • So glad S came home when he did. x

  • Even knowing the drama you were going through, this made it seem so much more real and horrifying. How prefect that hubby came home just as you needed him. So glad it wasn’t anything so much more terrifying. (And I’m not trivialising it in the least by saying that, but you know what I mean.) Big hugs. xx

    • Jess, I know yo are not trivialising it in the slightest, I’m glad it wasn’t so much more too, for this would be a very different story if it had xx

  • What a frightening experience for you Josefa. I am so glad that you are healing and on the road to recovery. xx

  • Thank God your husband came home when he did. I would have found it so hard to do that alone. What a good man. This is terrifying. Two of my 4 sisters have severe endometriosis, and one of them has had a ligament removed from her uterus because of the growth on it. AGHHH!!! Thank God again that they now know so much more about this than in the 90’s when my sister had to beg to be heard – “oh they’re just bad cramps.” YEAH – with excessive bleeding…

    • It is dipilitating isn’t it and I am grateful and forever in debt to modern medicine, but I think for those who suffer endometriosis there is still a long road ahead in treatment and social acceptance.

  • Hugzilla

    Oh my goodness, what a terrifying event! What an amazing piece of timing/divine intervention to have your husband come home when he did. Glad to hear you have been on the mend xx

  • Leanne Shea Langdown

    Oh wow! Oh my goodness. How scary. I am so pleased you are healing! Best wishes to you Josefa. Best wishes and hugs
    Leanne @ Deep Fried Fruit

  • I’ll never forget the day my sister collapsed on the beach, due to an ovarian cyst that burst. She said it was the most excruciating pain. Sorry you had to experience that but glad you are on the road to recovery, though the mental and emotional impacts may take longer to heal.

    Visiting today from #teamIBOT xxx

  • Denise Mooney

    Oh how awful. I’m glad you’re on the mend! What a scary time. I had a cyst removed but I didn’t’ go through anything like that. It was a worrying time though x

  • Kaz @ MeltingMoments

    Your writing put me right there with you. What a scary time.
    I haven’t visited for a while and I just LOVE your new design.

    Hope you’re on the mend honey.

  • Lara at This Charming Mum

    How truly terrifying. I could relate to your first thoughts about being alone with the boys. I do hope you’re recovering well now, although it will obviously take some time to get past the shock. x

  • Oh goodness! I am so sorry for this experience. Thank you for explaining your absence, though. It is a nice way to feel more included in your life. Isn’t amazing how the universe works, too! Delivering your husband just as he was needed.

  • Kirsty @ My Home Truths

    So glad you are on the road to recovery now but I can’t imagine how scared and vulnerable and helpless you would have felt at the time.

  • DreamingOfMalta

    Josefa how scary. Glad you are on the mend. Your story just goes to show that you have to listen to your body. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t. We can’t ignore pain in our body. It’s our body’s way of talking to us.

  • OMG Josefa – you poor thing. How terrifying for you. The angels sent your husband home hun just in time xx

  • I finally read this and I’m sorry it took me so long. I knew you were deeply unwell and was scared for you. Lucky for me, I now get to read your rupture and recovery at the same time. So I know you are okay. x

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