Chapter 1: The Doctor's Words

"I comprehend that the baby is no longer alive."

The doctor's statement hit me like a slow, unexpected tide. I removed the damp cloth from my forehead, struggling to open my eyes and focus on him. Hours earlier, Josh had convinced a nurse to dim the lights above my bed, yet the migraine continued to throb mercilessly. After several episodes of vomiting, the nausea had subsided—at least for the moment.

The nurses informed me that they couldn’t administer any pain relief prior to anesthesia. My surgery had been scheduled for 2 PM, yet it was now well past 5. I was uncertain how much longer I could endure the agony. My feelings of frustration had turned to a sense of helplessness, and it hurt too much to shed tears.

I glanced past the doctor towards Josh, who was seated on a stool behind a blue curtain. He met my gaze, shook his head, and shrugged without uttering a word. The relentless pounding in my head made it difficult to think clearly. "The…baby?" I stammered, bewildered.

A nurse approached the doctor, lightly touching his elbow. "Not this patient," she whispered. "The one over there." She gestured to another bed across the room.

"Oh," he replied, unfazed. He then turned his attention back to me. "What brings you here today?"

Despite having met this man several times, he never seemed to remember who I was or why I was there. I mentally reassured myself, telling myself that I just needed to survive this surgery and one follow-up appointment before I could switch doctors again.

The nurse leaned in to speak softly to him. He nodded and said, "I have one more surgery to complete, and then we’ll be back for you."

Another surgery before mine! I screamed internally. After waiting so long already, this revelation felt like a torpedo striking a ship that was already sinking.

Josh stood up. "But we've been here for hours," he said.

I turned my head and placed the cloth back over my eyes. My thoughts were becoming foggy, and I had to confront the reality that I would have to wait even longer for relief.

"Once we put her under, we can administer medication through her IV," I heard the nurse inform Josh. "For now, I can fetch some fresh washcloths."

I wanted to feel angry, but all I felt was defeat. The relentless thrum in my head returned, and the nausea began to creep back. I kept reminding myself that I needed this surgery. My migraines had worsened over the past few months. My iron levels were low, and today marked 12 consecutive days of heavy bleeding.

I'll feel better after the surgery. I just need to hold on for a few more hours.

When I finally woke up, I was enveloped in silence—no one beside my bed, no sounds of the hospital, and most importantly, no pain. The migraine had vanished. Still groggy, I lifted my head. Thank goodness, I thought.

A few minutes later, a nurse pulled back a curtain. "The surgery was successful," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Great. We're just finishing your paperwork, and then you can go home."

I nodded.

"It says here you don’t want pain medication," she noted.

"Correct."

I never took prescription painkillers—they made me feel ill, and I had already been through enough for one day. If I could handle childbirth without so much as a Tylenol, I figured I could manage post-surgery discomfort.

Josh entered the recovery area shortly after. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

I offered a weak smile. "I feel okay. I just want to get out of here."

By the time we arrived home, it was nearly 9 PM. Thankfully, my father had agreed to watch our son overnight. I slowly ascended the stairs and headed straight for the bathroom to prepare for bed. After a long, exhausting day, I anticipated falling asleep without any trouble.

However, I awoke drenched in sweat yet feeling cold. The pain didn't sneak up on me—it attacked, like a brutal shove against a jagged rock wall. I curled my knees tightly to my chest. I wanted to grab another blanket from the living room, but the sharp, unyielding pain in my abdomen rendered me immobile.

Dammit, I scolded myself; I should have taken the prescription.

I glanced at Josh, who was deep in sleep. What time is it? I wondered. I lay still for several minutes. The pain didn’t come in waves—it was constant, pressing down on me like a vice. I would have preferred childbirth; at least during labor, there were breaks in the discomfort. This felt unbearable.

Sweat soaked through my pants and t-shirt. Somehow, I managed to get out of bed. I retrieved a clean shirt from my drawer and spent agonizing minutes changing into it. Then, I crawled along the floor, barely making it to the bathroom before I vomited.

What did he do to me? What did this doctor do to me? I repeatedly asked myself as I crawled back toward the bedroom. I had never vomited from pain before, and I was uncertain whether to attempt getting back into bed or to bring a blanket into the bathroom for easier access to the toilet.

I finally made it back to the bedroom and curled up at the foot of my side of the bed, tears streaming down my face. Wrapping myself in a fleece blanket, I lay there, trying to remain still as the vice-like grip held me captive.

The remainder of the night was spent awake in agony—silently cursing the doctor and envying Josh, who slept soundly, completely oblivious to my suffering.

Chapter 2: Reflecting on Pain and Recovery

This video, titled "Silent Agony," captures the intense emotional struggle and physical pain experienced during recovery. It offers an insightful perspective on the experience of surgery and the pain that often follows.

The second video, "Silent Agony | Joshua Kyan Aalampour," delves deeper into the emotional toll of pain and the journey toward healing. It sheds light on the often overlooked aspects of post-surgery recovery.