It started two months ago.

I was throwing up all the time. I was losing weight rapidly.  I thought it was a sinus infection. My son said, “Momma, you need to go to the hospital. You are so sick.” 

We waited for more than 5 hours in emergency. I laid outside in a hot car, on the grass, hot cold, running to and from the bathroom to get sick every 40 minutes. I didn’t remember the last time I ate. Tests ruled out a blood clot. Brain was clear. No tumour. It should have sent me into a huge cheer. I was relieved but I couldn’t sit up without throwing up. My chronic migraines seemed to hold the key but would not let up. Finally, tests found a detached retina and we were told the Royal Alexandra hospital would see me the next day. The goal tonight was to stop me from vomiting so I could finally get some sleep.

The next day, after a few more tests, I was rushed into emergency surgery. Yet still, no answers as to why I was so nauseous. The experts kept saying “let’s fix the eye and then go from there“. I felt uneasy like only half the puzzle was solved.

I was right. So, so right.

A surgery that usually lasts 1 hour took 4. I was a complicated case. And it got worse when I got home. I was told that Advil would help with the soreness but the nausea was unexplained. The specialist advised, “You need to put that behind you, you need to focus on healing.”

Sounds great, but the next six days that followed were the worst of my life. Next to childbirth. My head felt like it was exploding. Food smelled like rotting flesh. I could only eat a few green grapes and a few slices of apple. I hadn’t eaten in more than a week.

Ophthalmology wasn’t taking calls. They were overwhelmed because of COVID. I laid in bed in the dark. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow. My son again held the clue to my recovery. He hugged me and this smell emanated from his shirt of lemon grass. I complained about smell and he told me he had eaten it four days ago. Even though he showers regularly, I found this odour to be overwhelming. I remembered how migraines triggers my olfactory sense into overdrive. I pushed my way into my doctor’s office and demanded answers. Luckily she took my call and it kickstarted a team of amazing people, who nursed me back to health.

The big lesson I learned was if you feel that something isn’t right, trust your gut even if the experts say otherwise. I’m not blaming the health officials, they are overwhelmed. However, I do believe they didn’t look at me holistically. The ophthalmologist was concentrating on my eyes. The doctors tapped out once the eye experts took me in. The doctors were over worked and stressed and I was unfortunately left alone.

I have a renewed perspective post recovery. Ironically, when the world went dark and I couldn’t see light, yet I began to see other things very clearly for the first time. I have re-examined my approach to work, food, lifestyle and relationships. I know that I need to minimize stress to recover. I’m slowly introducing foods back into my diet and I’m trying to sleep more. I’ve cut out things that don’t bring me joy by establishing clear boundaries on my time, especially with professional, personal and family relationships. I’m ruthless about my spare time, who I spend it with and how I spend it. I have cut out all drama from my life. I refuse to do things I don’t want to do, including returning some calls and texts and what engagements I choose to attend.

I realize I need to slow down, I must place limits on myself and I have to choose wisely who has access to me and my time. My mental health has for too long taken a back seat and as a busy mom and entrepreneur, I have overlooked my needs. I require and deserve balance and happiness. And I realize that it shouldn’t take a medical crisis to force me to listen. I have a lot of loose ends that need tying up, which are long overdue and in need of resolution. I’ve laid down boundaries to claim my space because my happiness depends on it. And with those markers laid down, my healing journey is now peppered with peace and sparks of joy. I’m ready to embrace what lies ahead and I’m committed to maintaining this newfound clarity in my life.

I thank my son for having the maturity and courage to get me the help I desperately needed. He knew something was wrong and he was brave enough to question me, even when I believed I was okay. I didn’t seem to know my limits but he did. He challenges me and forces me to be better and always asks that important follow up question, even when it feels uncomfortable. He is his mother’s son. And I couldn’t be more proud.

Huge hugs to my assistant, who is more than that, she is family. She stood in line for me at the hospital and sat with me for every moment. And she continues to stand beside me every day.

To my posse, who surround me like a blanket, you have been there for so many moments and for over more than half my life. You shield me through tough times and are there for me in good times. You are my chosen family. You lift my son and I. We are so incredibly thankful. You are in our orbit and we feel so, so loved.