First off, I apologize for the groan of a title. When one has parts of their body taken out of them, what else can you do but find the joke in that?
I also apologize if what I’m going to discuss here makes you uncomfortable. So in the spirit of “you’ve been warned”, consider leaving now if the subject of uteruses makes you squeamish.
You’ve been warned.
24 years ago my Mom had a hysterectomy. She was mid-late 40’s which seemed at the time super old (haha) but too young to enter menopause. I knew the circumstances leading up to her decision and we all knew it was for the best. What we didn’t count on was a biopsy coming back that she had ovarian cancer. That was the worst.
Wayne and I had only been dating 7 months when it happened. He was with me in Minnesota when I couldn’t be with Mom in Texas. He was with me when she was diagnosed with cancer. It was our first crisis and one which proved to me that he was the man I wanted to have around for the long haul. He consoled me as I grappled with the possibility of losing my own mother before experiencing the loss of any of my grandparents. Surely there was an order to this sort of thing?
The consolation surrounding the circumstance of Mom’s surgery is the fact that her hysterectomy ended up saving her life. Ovarian cancer usually doesn’t rear it’s ugly head until it’s later stages. They ended up finding it before it even traveled into her blood stream or lymph nodes. She didn’t need chemo and she didn’t need radiation. It was a miracle! She continues to be cancer free to date and she was inspired through her own experience to start the Comforter Ministry.
My aunt (mom’s sister) had a similar situation in her mid-late 40’s where they found cancer cells during her hysterectomy.
The writing was on the wall: I need to be vigilant about keeping an eye on this.
So yes, it really was a matter of time and my time has come. I’m mid 40’s and a few weeks ago I had everything reproductive removed because all signs pointed to repeating (family) history. I had a LAVH (you’ll know what that means if you know about these things). Thankfully it’s less invasive with usually one night in the hospital and a quicker recovery time overall. The reality is that I’m supposed to take 6 weeks of really making an effort to take time off from my daily routine and be patient while my body miraculously recovers from the loss of various body parts.
Now that I’m on the other side of the surgery, it’s such a huge relief. I’m sad to say I did not approach the wait with grace and peace. I’ve known since the middle of November and set the date for the end of January so we could get through the holidays and then deal with it. My first reaction in dealing with it was to not think too much about it while still acknowledging I was having it done. Actually that coping mechanism lasted until about a week before surgery. Then I started doing what I normally do before something unknown is about to happen: Google it. This was when it dawned on me the enormity of the surgery and while we hear all the time that this is common and women are having it done regularly, this was still major surgery. I told Wayne I couldn’t vacuum for 6 weeks. He was shocked.
I signed up for Hyster Sisters which … who knew?!… is this amazing website and support group online. I’m on this thread of ladies who had hysterectomies the same week I did so we’re all recovering at the same time. It’s the only place anyone of us can really talk about gross stuff that nobody else would surely care to hear or read about. Nothing is off limits if it’s related to this topic. Having said that I feel like I might know a bit too much about some of their sex lives ....
I also scrolled Pinterest and set up a new Board I labeled “Getting Old” to pin all things hysterectomy related. I found lots of blogs of women chronicling their own Hyster Sister story. I ordered a book all about menopause because that’s the train I’m getting on. Reading all of this information explains why the week before my surgery (that I’ve known about for over two months) I was filling my Walmart basket with Gas-X, stool softeners, prune juice, heat/ice pad, and a travel pillow that would become a hysterectomy pillow. This last item was made possible by some dear friends from church who at my request sewed a pillow cover to fit my travel pillow complete with a hidden pocket to fit my ice/heat pack. Made of the cheeriest looking fabric, Carin went so far as to quilt it making it extra padded and squishy. I also put in a last minute Amazon order (thank you Prime) for a tens machine. I had no idea this was a must until I read someone’s blog and suggested this as drug free pain relief. Truth be told I probably could have gotten by without it but Wayne tried it too and let me tell you … this will be nice to have handy for getting old creaks and pains. (we’re not getting any younger)
In the days leading up to THE DAY I cleaned my house, made and froze food. I baked bran muffins (for practical purposes) and chocolate chip cookies (no brainer). This busy routine helped to distract me and keep me from freaking out which I still managed to find opportunity to do especially when reading my menopause book.
Like I said before I did not handle this with peace and confidence. I had a lot of anxiety knowing that pain was coming my way and after that hot flashes and possibly facial hair. This was coupled with knowing that this was the right thing for me in the context of my family history. The day arrived. Thankfully once I met with the anesthesiologist I was injected with some happy juice and given a lovely lavender/sandalwood essential oil patch to put on my hospital gown.
And then at some point I don’t know what happened. It’s the strangest thing. I was being wheeled along the hallway and then … I don’t know. Which is exactly what I was going for. Nightmares of waking up during the procedure was not something I wanted to make reality.
What I did not expect to find during my stay at the hospital was a friend. I knew my neighbor worked at the hospital occasionally but I really didn’t catch what she did and where. Turned out that she works the floor I recovered on and manages/organizes what happens on that floor. She picked my room and picked my nurse. Hers was the voice I heard when I’d press the button to call for the nurse. She would also stop in occasionally and see how I was and chat a bit just to make me feel a little normal. And she happened to work both days I was there. Isn’t God good? What loving care He gave me through her!
So now I’m at the beginning of Recovery Week 3. 3 more to go. Gulp.
My Recovery Team is doing a bang up job! I’m restricted from bending, holding anything heavier than a milk jug, pushing, pulling, etc. Wayne and Zanna are doing the laundry, filling the dishwasher, vacuuming, and generally getting/doing things for me. Wayne continues to be by my side through crisis situations to help me up in the middle of the night for bathroom runs, puts my socks on when I can’t bend over, and makes attempts to make the bed. I just hope my team can hang in there! I’m a little worried because I really need someone to clean the toilets. Not sure how to grease the wheel on that one.
I’m reading a lot. I mean a lot. More than I normally do which is quite a bit. I finally finished a cross stitch project I started over a year ago. I nap. I watch HGTV and way too much FOX NEWS. I help Zanna with her school work. If I have an outing I have to pace myself because I get exhausted not doing much. I’m still waiting for my first hot flash.
Despite the short time we’ve lived here we’ve had neighbors, friends, and church family bring meals and come for visits. It’s so unbelievably nice to have this! We’ve had such a variety of delicious, healthy meals. We’re so grateful to have this help and support along with prayers!
Everyday gets a bit better. I try to keep in the forefront of my mind that I only get one chance to recover so I’m trying to take that to heart and not push myself too much. It’s this aggravating back and forth of “it’s so great to have a valid excuse to stay in my pj’s all day and hail my biggest accomplishment as having showered” over to “I’m going to go nuts. My eyes hurt at the end of the day from using them so much between reading, watching TV, and scrolling Facebook. Will anyone clean the toilets or pick up that piece of celery leaf that fell on the floor that I can’t bend over to pick up?”
