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The dreaded 'H' word
Hysterectomy. Who, me? Yes, me. I had imagined hysterectomies to be this awful, mostly unnecessary thing that doctors did to women to shut them up when they complained. I had also read that more hysterectomies are performed in the United States than anywhere else in the world. I had heard horror stories of women losing their minds and going around the bend because of these procedures. So naturally, when my gynecologist suggested that I have a laparoscopic hysterectomy (due to a very large fibroid that had chosen my unfortunate uterus to call home), I was alarmed. But, thankfully, medicine has come a long way since the grim days before laparoscopy. My doctor explained that she was only removing my uterus, not my ovaries or cervix. (According to her, my ovaries were "very pretty" and undamaged.) Leaving my ovaries intact meant that I would not have the wild hormonal fluctuation that some women experience after having them removed. Additionally, the flagrant fibroid had the nerve to be larger than my uterus. She also explained that since I never planned to have children anyway, I was the perfect candidate for this type of procedure. After weighing all the options--and reading more medical jargon than I ever want to again--I decided that a laparoscopic hysterectomy was the sensible thing. It seemed the least invasive of all hysterectomies and recovery time was short. I had already undergone one laparoscopic procedure this summer (which found this alien tumor in the first place), so I knew what to expect. Plus, the thought of this benign fibroid living inside of me was shudderingly icky. The photographs my doctor showed me of The Thing were scary enough. I couldn't imagine letting it exist and, heaven forbid, expand! I started calling my situation The Invasion of The Body Snatcher. I told my friends I had an alien festering in my womb. I imagined it bursting through my belly button, grinning wickedly like Jack Nicholson and saying, "Heeeere's Johnny!" Sometimes, a vivid imagination is a curse, but finding humor in these kinds of situations is always a relief. On Aug. 8, my doctor and another surgeon performed my laparoscopic hysterectomy. The procedure took an hour and a half, and--guess what? Surprise! They found another fibroid inside my uterus in addition to the one already on top of it. My doctor told me that my entire uterus had been compromised. Needless to say, she was thrilled to be able to get everything out. I was just thrilled it was over. (Although I must say, anesthesia produced the best sleep I've ever had in my life. Wow!) Recovery took a little longer than expected, mainly because I returned to work five days after surgery. I know, you're supposed to rest for at least a week. But I felt pretty good, so back to work I went. I started feeling pain after a few hours at work, so for the rest of the week I went home at about 2 or 3 p.m., took a pain pill and went to bed. Speaking of painkillers, I found out I was potentially allergic to Oxycodone. It made me nauseous and itchy. I was subsequently given Hydrocodone, but those were hit or miss on the effectiveness level. How disappointing! Here's the one time I get to take them for legitimate reasons and they don't take to me. Alan was amused. He joked that I just didn't have what it took to do pills recreationally. I suppose that's a good thing, but I still feel cheated! Anyway, all seems well now and I'm looking forward to this new phase of my life. I may just throw a party. Some friends have asked if I feel "different." Actually, I don't. I do, however, feel a touch lighter; my doctor said those fibroids probably weighed a couple of pounds. Hey, any weight I can drop is a celebration, and those were certainly two pounds I didn't need!--Jacquie Brasher is senior staff writer for The Forest-Blade and may be reached at jacquie@forest-blade.com
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