I sit here in a haze of narcotics, which is probably a bad time to be blogging, but ever since I had my surgery, my night owl mode switched back on big time. I guess there’s no fighting what’s meant to be.

So yes. The surgery! Some of this entry might be TMI, so feel free to skip it if you don’t like reading medical stuff.

I had a TAH BSO—total abdominal hysterectomy bilateral salpingo oophorectomy—which is the removal of the entire uterus, the ovaries, fallopian tubes, and cervix. It was to get rid of fibroids and a cyst on my right ovary, and to alleviate what had become the norm for me: long, heavy periods with a lot of pain and migraine headaches.

The procedure took place Jan 10, and the lead up to it was interesting. I finished my last Berlitz assignment on Jan 4, finished Humana Jan 6 (just for 90 days), and that weekend I started cleaning and organizing my recovery area in the bedroom. A stack of books, notebooks, easy access to snacks and my computer. I made a pile of easy to wear clothes (soft leggings, big t-shirts, running pants, ALL the nightgowns). Jan 9 the hospital called with my arrival time (7am) and other instructions about where to go and park and stuff. I had a cleaner come and do the bathroom, kitchen, and living room. The cleaner was due to come at noon, which was the time I was to start the prep. Well, her car broke down and we couldn’t get a new one until 2. This was going to be kind of tricky because I also had to do my bowel prep that day. I had to start it at noon. A 4 litre jug with some sort of powder at the bottom. I filled it to the fill line and had Adam shake it up, and then I had to drink this stuff every ten minutes until it was all gone. IT TASTED LIKE A CUP OF WARM TEARS. Blech. I hope I never have to do that again!

Tuesday morning, I took a shower and then headed to the hospital. I was nervous about two things: the IV and waking up. But everyone was very nice and they all put me at ease with their soothing manner. Even getting the IV in wasn’t anywhere near as bad as I was expecting, and the nurse explained why they used the needle they used and all the stuff she was doing. I had to give a urine sample and a blood sample, and I had to answer a lot of questions.

Eventually, the questions were done. Adam got escorted back to the waiting room. I felt a burn in my IV which surprised me, but they were like “You’ll be loving this really soon.” The mellowness of the drug kicked in fast. I remember turning a corner and going through a door—then waking up to a lot of pain and wondering if they were still operating on me! But no, turns out that I was actually waking up. I heard the glorious word “morphine” and somehow understood that I was to be given one of those lovely buttons. There was a lot of rushing around and me thinking “hook up the drugs already!” I clicked as often as I could until I finally started feeling relief. Then they took me to my room.

My initial room had a roommate—an old lady who wouldn’t listen to any directions. I remember thinking “well crap, I won’t be getting much sleep,” and also “I thought I was getting a private room?” I remember Adam coming in and sitting down at one point. But then she fell asleep and I fell asleep. But even under heavy drugs, I’m a light sleeper, so anytime someone came into the room, I came alert. But then there was good news: a private room had opened up for me. Hallelujah!

The first afternoon and night was a blur of nausea, pressing that magic morphine button, being REALLY thirsty but only allowed to use a sponge, loving the catheter, and these things that squeezed my legs all night to keep me from getting blood clots. My nurse was named Young and she was very good. A lot of tough love. I did come alert enough at one point for Adam to tell me:

1. What they thought were fibroids was actually an astonishing amount of endometriosis. There were fibroids there, and the cysts were there but the amount of endo was clearly unexpected and large.
2. There was so much that they called in the gyn-oncologist to make sure it was ONLY endo.
3. My appendix was also affected, and therefore removed.
4. The doctor said I was a “tough tough girl” and she didn’t know how I managed it for so long.
5. There were photos.

By the time night fell, I swear every machine in my room kept beeping. My night nurse Paul was very cool, as I had to keep calling him in to stop the beeping! He was also nice enough to dig out my earplugs and eye mask, which helped me finally get to sleep. I was so comfortable that I was able to sit up, which shocked him. The things on my legs felt like a massage, but then they started to itch.

Wednesday (1/11), I was allowed to have a clear liquid diet, but the nausea was like “nope not really.” Young got me up and walking and I walked a long time. My doctor showed up and told me all the stuff she’d told Adam, and then she showed me the pictures. Those things looked EVIL and I’m glad they’re out of me! I got upgraded to a full liquid diet but I was still feeling a bit nauseated, so I ordered clear for dinner. I slept through lunch!

Later, Young unhooked the IV which made going to the bathroom way easier! Once the morphine left my system, the nausea went away and my appetite was like HI! But the kitchen was closed by then so I had to make do with water.

I had a different night nurse, but she was also very kind. She asked if I was walking to the bathroom on my own and I told her yes. I was going every hour, 125ml every time. I think she wanted me to have someone with me but again, every single hour. The person next door to me was very high maintenance and very loud, and people were complaining about him. He was on speakerphone at 230am speaking very very loudly. And I was like “Can I not escape loud neighbors even in the hospital?” God he was entertaining though, when he wasn’t keeping me from sleeping.

Thursday morning (1/12) I was greeted with two bits of good news: I could possibly go home that day pending certain circumstances, and my diet was upgraded to general diet which made me really happy because I saw “wheat farina” (Cream of Wheat), applesauce, and bacon on the menu. Yum!

It turned out that I was allowed to go home, but not until later that afternoon. I had a hot dog and fries for lunch, then I had a nap. Adam left to take a walk and not long after, Young came in with all my discharge paperwork. I napped a bit until Adam got back, and then he drove me home. It was nice to change into my own nightgown and sleep in my own bed while he went to grab my medicines.

Now it’s 2 weeks post op. I spend a LOT of time in bed. Some days and nights are better than others. Sometimes I feel great and alert and good enough to sit up and type (like now). Others, I feel so sleepy and I get a bit sore. My incision, which is thankfully bikini cut, itches a lot sometimes. I have numb parts around my belly, and there are places that hurt if I push on them. I should probably not do that. My stomach is noticeably flatter. I sleep a lot—probably about 14–16 hours every day. I have to literally tell myself over and over that it’s OK for me to sleep so much, to rest so much, to take the narcotics, because my body just went through a major trauma and there is a lot of healing to be done. After working and grinding nonstop for months, it’s strange to lie here and sleep so much, or read, or scroll twitter. And when my brain gets tired, I shut it all down and sleep some more. I’m behind on emails, journaling, letter writing, my Self Love workbook, and brainstorming for my writing. However, I’m about 8 episodes from finishing Jane The Virgin on Netflix and I’ve read 7 new books this year and reread an old favorite already. I’m slowing down on social media posting, and taking my time responding to texts and chats. It feels weird to not jump on everything ASAP, but sometimes my brain just can’t deal right now. And it’s OK. It really is. I don’t believe it all the time, though. I have to tell myself, every single time I “save for later” or find sleep washing over me that it’s OK. It’s OK, it’s OK, it’s OK. I don’t need to be working all the frick-frackin’ time.

My appetite runs hot and cold. Sometimes I’m so hungry I want to eat my own arm, and other times the thought of food makes my stomach flip. Sometimes I think I’m really hungry then I start eating and I’m like “nope, try again.” And speaking of hot and cold…see, once upon a time I used to wish that menopause would hurry so I could get hot flashes since I’m cold All The Time.

Welp.

Hot flashes are intense, man. But I figure if I have to deal with them, the middle of a Chicago winter is a good time, right? And I still get cold too, so yeah. I’m constantly fighting with my blanket(s). Right now, I am stable, but who knows how long that’ll last? I’m on HRT. I’m not sure if this is a lifetime thing I’ll need or if it’s just until things stabilize. I have my post op appointment with my doctor Wednesday (1/25). I need to write down a list of questions to ask her while I’m there.

Overall, I am very glad I got the surgery. I’m relieved it’s all over and grateful that I have the time to rest and recover. I’m excited to no longer experience visits from Red Sister, and look forward to seeing how my tummy looks when the post op swelling goes down! And I’m super glad I got it done before some laws or crap gets passed that would limit my reproductive freedom. Now I have ULTIMATE reproductive freedom and I Regret Nothing.

Getting sleepy now. At 535am. Typical.

Till next time!