So, I went to the hospital on August 25, 2016. They pulled me into the back room, made me strip, rub myself down with these god awful sticky and slimy wipes (my asshole burned when I ran over it with one), took my blood, worked on finding a spot for an IV, and made me wear a cap.
I was told the procedure was 2.5 hours. Though, my procedures ALWAYS take longer. I mean ALWAYS.
The drug doctor came in (the anesthesiologist, I think they are called… I call them my *best* friend) and asked if I was allergic to anything, I mentioned Morphine. She said she doesn’t use that on *anyone* unless she has to.
Then the gynecologist came in.
I was told my uterus was 6cm so they hypothetically *could* stuff it down my cervix and pop it out my vagina, but my doctor was worried that, since I’d never had a kid, there wouldn’t be space. I told her to stomp on it, force it down, squish it flat and make it fit. If she couldn’t I acquiesced to cutting me open, but only to get her foot in there to force it down. She laughed. I think she thought I was joking… I wasn’t joking.
I was hauled back to the operation room, and just as I realized I’d forgotten to talk to the doctor about maybe scraping some of the fat away while she was in there, I was out.
I woke up in the recovery room like… half a minute later (serious long blink there) and I was told it actually took 3 hours and some odd minutes. Didn’t feel a damn thing, of course.
I think I long blinked again, because suddenly my husband was there, holding my hand, and being a wonderful human being. And then my friend Mikee, and my father in law, and my roommate (with my traditional creamcheese and meat bagel!)
…and my mum. My mother in law stopped by a little while later. Yes, we are very close. We had two of our friends come with us to the hospital (for my husband) and one stop by later.
As I said… I’m not afraid to talk about my operations. There is no operation too private to be talked about… and I have had my fair share. I have had a brain surgery, a gall bladder surgery (gall bladder was removed, brain wasn’t), a fatty tissue (that I’d named George) removed from my neck (seriously, it looked like a half formed Adipose!), a wort type thing from my foot when I was a small child, the ablation and the Essure…
So, the doctor said she’d taken everything except the ovaries. She didn’t have to stomp, everything fit just fine. Nothing of note went wrong. A textbook surgery.
I gave birth to a 6cm, 42 year old uterus. I am one happy mother.
In the hospital on Friday, after they took me off the Dilaudid (hereafter called the KO stuff).
I was like “Nooooo!!!! Don’t take me off of that beautiful drug!!!” (Seriously… they inject it into your IV, you can feel the KO to each of your limbs… it’s interesting to feel… and then you don’t, and you wake up an hour later or some shit)
I had this… lady, patient coordinator, I dunno… sticking her face a headbutt away and asking me, “Do yooo have to peee? Urrrriiinnnnate?” She was really freakin’ me out… I finally said I was ready just to get her outta my face!
When I got to getting up, I experienced a whole NEW world of pain, I was standing there, tears STREAMING out of my eyes and I felt as though my insides just tilted and collapse. ALL of them. I was stuck, standing, but bent over, couldn’t stand upright, couldn’t sit (that hurt too): the weird lady literally screamed that we needed a nurse. Which brought her boss in. ALL I wanted was my husband. They got me sitting, a nurse finally did show, and ran off to get more of that KO shit.
I got back up and the weird woman was trying to help me. I had to shove the walker out of the way, grab the neighboring bed, say “I have my husband.” To which she said, “Annnd yoooou hiv meee?” I went into the bathroom and had to damn near close the door on her face. Literally on her face! Finally I sat down and Urrriiinnnnaaaated?. Wiped got up, shoved the toilet paper behind the little giant bowl thing so they can count how many liters I’d peed (if you hit x amount you get to go home!). Then I headed back using the counter, neighboring bed, husband, and finally my bed. The nurse got back with the KO stuff as they were checking me out… yeah… we had to be there till I woke up again.
Weird lady insisted on taking me out. She had me in a wheelchair, which she insisted on hitting corners with. Finally, I was in the car wishing I was still in the hospital. Every bump on the road, I felt.
So, four days after the surgery, I’m feeling coherent enough to write!
I know it hurts now… it hurts to stand, it hurts to sit… it hurts to be turned on… when I can be, which has NOT been very often in the past four days. I have to not watch anything with either of the Chrises (Evans or Pratt), or Tom Hiddleston… or, or, or (insert hot actor/actress here)…. Because it hurts. Have to be careful where I sleep, because my animals are masochistic bastards. Have to be careful how I eat. Because I’m ALWAYS hungry, so I have to eat small amounts. It IS getting better. Promise. I WILL heal.
Women who are coming after me… You WILL fart… A LOT. Just let it come out. The only awkward thing is you’re partially sitting, so farts will come up the front. But as it’s mostly gas caused by the surgery, it’s odorless and soundless (unless you have a husband sitting in the corner farting too). And with the KO stuff… constipation. Haven’t taken a shit since Thursday. I will feel like I have to, and run into the bathroom and my body will say, “HAHA… made you run!” I am on anti-constipation drugs every day. (of course, the Vicodin probably ISN’T helping.)
While we’re on things they never tell you… Pregnant women… you will shit yourself while delivering. Ruined the surprise!
I think I’ve covered everything.
All that’s left is the obligatory shot of my husband and I before the surgery…
If you have any questions, let me know!