War and Peace
by Exile From Hysteria
The argument was about a chair. A recliner I hope to convalesce in after my hysterectomy.
Seemingly out of nowhere, Matt said I was being “fatalistic.” That I didn’t wish to get better. That I wanted to spend weeks, if not months wasting away in the recliner.
What I’m sure was a slight misunderstanding, or perhaps a brewing resentment, exploded into a torrent of angry words and sobs.
“Why are we arguing?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, wiping the tears from my chin. “I’m on your side, babe.”
“You know I love you,” Matt said, his face glowing red. “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be looking for this recliner for you.”
In a moment, when I wasn’t paying attention, the stress and horror of the situation almost strangled us.
I said I felt alone, and Matt said he could tell. In fact, he felt I excluded him from important parts of my fears, of my grieving.
“This affects me too,” he told me.
And Matt was so right.
Losing my uterus would have an effect on our lives, our beliefs on what defines a family. We would need to do this together. Up to this point I truly thought I had included Matt. But in this moment, as I saw his sad eyes, I realized I had fallen short.
Fighting shape
The thought of being cut open frightens me. I imagine the incision coming open and my innards falling at my feet. I know this is irrational. In fact, I have not found evidence of one woman to which this has happened. But this image, this fear is stuck deep in my gut. The core of me. Probably exactly where my uterus sits for a final few weeks.
What I do know is that my recovery will most likely be swift. My doctor said if all goes well I should be in fighting shape by four weeks post-op. Time will tell, but I’m hoping Lady Luck is on my side.
What I do know is that many women with endometriosis who have a hysterectomy report an immediate improvement in their abdomen pain. This eases my anxiety.
What I do know is that I plan on starting a workout regimine this weekend to prepare for the surgery. Most women I’ve spoken with recommend getting in shape before the hysterectomy, and report that it significantly improved their recovery time. I also plan to get moving as quickly as possible post-op.
What I do know is that I need permission to grieve, to move slow when I feel like it, to not be a superstar. Although I’m pretty sure I’m rocking this out.
Love letter
In an unconventional way, this is a love letter to the man I love, perhaps the only person I’ve truly let into my heart.
I am terrified. And I know he is, too. I have to remind myself I’m not the only person suffering a loss in this gig. I may be losing my uterus, but we both are sacrificing dreams, frantically readjusting expectations.
We are not the first couple to run into these speed bumps. It just makes sense that we are stressed. And scared.
I make no apologies. This is raw. Honest. Emotional.
I don’t know another way.
This also is a love letter to myself. A reminder to treat my self gently. To believe that I can do this.
I am doing this.
And best of all, I’m not doing it alone.
This post really touched me, it brought back memories of my own experience. I admire your honesty and bravery.
Thank you.
I really struggled with whether I wanted to share this. It’s the most personal post I have written so far. But I decided I want to stay true to my experience, in the hopes of healing ourselves as a couple … and helping others.
sounds all too familiar. sometimes i think it is almost a luxury to be the person “going through it”… we get to be busy. g. doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes. i swear to god he spends more time on hystersisters than i ever have. he wants to understand things i cannot explain, but just sort of feel. things he’s never going to learn at the university of google.
you are writing a lovely letter to matt, and you will get through this. you will.
i do agree. fitness is a freaking miracle worker. when you feel like you can move, move. it is good for the psyche and good for the body. i didn’t get opened like a fish, i went the davinci route, but i was able to start walking at about 2 weeks in, like on a treadmill. made me feel human again. certainly didn’t hurt i was an athlete before i started this little endeavor in organ harvesting either, so i agree that the better you can whip yourself into shape pre-op, the better too. you are covering your bases like a pro, sister. xxx
Thanks so much for the affirmation. I feel like I’m standing in wet sand, feeling the ground wash away from me with each wave. I keep losing balance, then steadying myself again. One thing I am sure of is that Matt and I will come out of this stronger than we ever expected.
I’m hoping to hit the gym this weekend. I’ll let you know how it goes.
<3
Love you, Char.
xoxo
Thank you, darlin.
[...] night when lower back pain woke me from a deep sleep. I startled myself awake with a gasp, then Matt asked if I was OK. I could feel the ache wrapping around my waist; I tried not to move. As I stared at the ceiling, I [...]
You are so strong to have made it this far, and to be willing to throw some serious, dear plans to the wind. This is tough stuff, and I think just dealing with this suffering makes you tough, too. I’ll pray that the surgery ends your pain. Hang in there, one day at a time.