A little less of me on the inside doesn’t change who I am

I’m alive and kicking.  Okay, I’m not kicking because seriously from the waist down, OUCH.  I no longer have a uterus or a cervix but my ovaries are still there.  That is the first question I asked when I woke up from the anesthesia, “do I still have my ovaries?”

Because the thought of hormone replacement therapy was freaking me out.

My bladder was okay and there were no signs of cancer.   These are the kinds of concerns the doctors had going into the surgery and the not knowing was starting to seriously fuck with my head.

I arrived at the surgery center at 6am sharp, ugh, as directed.  I was the only surgical patient that morning so that was kind of nice.  What wasn’t nice was the nurse that repeatedly attempted to insert an IV into my hand.  I have very bad veins.  They’re tiny and uncooperative.  Normally when I know I’m going to have blood drawn I drink more water than normal because that helps and I always recommend the tech use a butterfly.  However, because of the surgery I had no food or drink after midnight and that doesn’t help things at all.  Also, I’m 42 and I’ve had this issue my whole entire life so I know when it’s a good stick and when it’s not.  The first stick in my hand blows my vein up and I end up with a nice black and blue welt.  So then she tries again but I can tell that she can’t get it, she’s digging and it HURTS LIKE HELL.  And I am not a wussy.  I can handle pain so if I say it hurts, it really hurts.

I make her stop at which point she tells me she almost had it and asks if I’m afraid of needles.  While I restrained from back fisting her I explained does it look like I’m afraid of needles, um, hello, piercings, tattoos.  DUH.  I was trying so hard to be pleasant but seriously, I’m wearing a gown that doesn’t cover my backside, it’s cold, I’m about to have my insides taken out, and you’re poking the hell out of me with a sharp object.

At this point she decides the anesthesiologist would do the IV and since I had already made that decision myself, I didn’t argue with her.  He was able to get it in on the inside of my wrist which was tender, but not nearly as painful as what she did.  I barely winced and I couldn’t help but look at her to make sure she noticed.

The surgery went well.  The doctor told hubby it was very textbook.  My bladder had no damage, there was no sign of tumors but there was a lot of endometriosis.  He believes he got most of it which means I should have no  more pain and without my uterus I won’t have any periods so the endometriosis won’t be able to come back.

YAY.

Needless to say it hurts. I’m moving slow and I’m sure it will be a few days before I feel normal.  I definitely feel that having a good exercise habit makes a significant difference in my recovery and am thankful that I take care of myself.

I don’t feel that I’m any less of a woman and I haven’t (so far) experienced any significant emotional distress.  There might have been a bit of time yesterday when I cried for a while, but mostly because I hurt and wanted my mom.   I normally avoid taking pain killers because my pain threshold is fairly high but I’ll admit this is kicking my ass.  Vicodin makes me itch so I’m shuffling around my house looking like a meth addict.  See, I still have my sex appeal :)

The only downside is that now I can’t blame bad moods on PMS :)

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