Shortly after I gave birth to Cass, my youngest girl — sometime in 2008 or 2009 — my gynaecologist spotted a very tiny fibroid during a routine ultrasound scan. I can’t remember the exact year, but I remember his words clearly.
“It’s very small. Just monitor it.”
So I did.
In the early years, it caused no trouble at all. No pain, no heavy bleeding, nothing alarming. Life went on as usual, and that tiny fibroid faded into the background of my busy days as a mum.
But around 2015, things started to change.
My periods became unbearably heavy. Not the normal kind of heavy — the kind that makes you tired, woozy and very uncomfortable. This was extreme. I had to wear diapers (changed every hourly) during my period just to get through the day. It was physically draining and emotionally exhausting.
After consulting several doctors, I finally decided to go for a laparoscopic myomectomy in 2017. It’s a minimally invasive surgery commonly preferred over open surgery for removing uterine fibroids. Smaller cuts, faster recovery, less trauma to the body.
But what happened before the surgery was the scariest part.
The month leading up to it, I nearly bled to death during my period. My red blood cell count dropped dangerously low. My gynae warned me that if my levels didn’t improve, I might need a blood transfusion during surgery.
That possibility terrified me.
I was prescribed Sangobion iron supplements twice a day to boost my iron levels. I also drank red and black dates water daily and forced myself to eat more red meat. I did everything I could to build my blood back up.
On the day of my surgery, they repeated my blood test.
My red blood cell count had improved.
No transfusion needed.
I was incredibly relieved. The surgery went smoothly, and I was discharged less than 24 hours later. I still remember how thankful I felt — thankful to have gone through it safely, thankful that my body pulled through.
For a few years after that, life returned to normal.
Then, about four or five years later — sometime in 2021 or 2022 — during my annual checkup, my gynae found another fibroid.
My heart sank instantly.
All the old fears came rushing back. The bleeding, the weakness, the anxiety, the surgery. I remember thinking to myself: should I have asked for a hysterectomy back in 2017? Would that have spared me from going through this again?
Since discovering this new fibroid, I’ve been praying quietly every year that it would stop growing… or even disappear miraculously. Each annual scan feels like waiting for exam results.
The good news? It’s growing very slowly. From last year to this year, there has been little to no change in size. That alone gives me some comfort.
Over the years, I’ve reflected a lot on why this happened. I truly believe that prolonged stress, lack of sleep, and emotional struggles played a role. My acupuncturist once told me that in Traditional Chinese Medicine, fibroids are often linked to trapped negative emotions — especially stress and anger. From a medical standpoint, hormones like estrogen are also known contributors.
Maybe the truth lies somewhere in between.
At this stage, there isn’t much I can do except continue monitoring it. I also have a tiny ovarian cyst that’s being watched. I’m hoping that menopause will arrive soon and naturally slow down or stop these growths altogether.
My mum once shared that she has had an ovarian cyst for many years, and her doctor told her it didn’t need to be removed. That gave me some reassurance. Sometimes, not everything inside us needs to be “fixed.” Some things just need watching and patience.
The photo here was taken in May 2017, nine years ago, after my fibroid removal surgery at Sunway Medical Centre.
Today, I still hope I won’t need another surgery. But if it ever becomes necessary to save my life, I know I will face it the same way I did before — with fear, yes, but also with faith.
Because life has taught me this: we don’t always get control, but we always get a choice in how we face what comes next.
| Less than 24 hours after my surgery with dad, mum, Sherilyn (12yo) & Cass (9yo). |
| My abdomen looks awful with scars from 3 C-sections, an ovarian drilling surgery (part of my fertility treatment as I had PCOS), and a fibroid removal surgery. |