by Jillian Bogater (Exile From Hysteria)
Exile from Hysteria is complete.
Yesterday, sometime between noon and three, a surgeon removed my uterus and cervix along with my right ovary and fallopian tube. I’m not gonna lie. The pain is intense.
Sadly I seem to be allergic to the best painkillers. I lived with the first one for almost 18 hours before the itching became too much. Then I switched to a different drug, but too closely on the tail of the first pain killer. Those next six hours are a blur. I came out of it with a swollen allergy lip and demanding that Matt bring with him a back scratcher.
I’m not allowed anti-inflammatories, so I’m relying on ice packs and a stomach binder to keep the swelling down. This part is simply miserable.
Matt has been a trouper. He stayed at the hospital waiting room, hopefully watching an electronic board post my latest status update as I moved through the various stages of surgery. The front desk gave him a restaurant-style beeper to carry that would alert him when I cleared significant hurdles, and more importantly when I was ready to go up to my hospital room.
I don’t remember much about yesterday, but I do remember Matt was there for all of it. He called my mom and brother when I came out of surgery, he met with the surgeon to get the skinny on what went down, he escorted me up to my hospital suite and fed me small pieces of a pork chop dinner.
I sense that resurfacing will take a long time.
My surgeon stopped by this morning, and spoke with me in detail about the surgery. She confirmed a long-standing suspicion that I had about endometriosis moving high in my abdomen. In recent weeks I had another doctor tell me I most likely have gall bladder issues causing the pain below my ribs. It ends up that it was endo the whole time. The surgeon was able to break it down, hopefully eliminating that problem.
Later today I was overcome with unfocused crying jags. I had read about this possibility in the discussion forums, but when the first wave came I was completely unprepared. “Are you in pain?” the nurse asked. “No. I don’t know why I am crying.”
The second jag was inspired simply by the fact that my room is in the Obstetrics wing, and that I can hear the shrill cry of newborns.
I fear this resurfacing will take place in phases. The road I took here was winding. How could I expect the road out would be any different?