Hystery – One ladies challenge with her vagina

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I am writing this and front streeting myself in hopes of inner healing. If even one of you relate and find hope or laughter in this, thank you! There is hope after the hysterectomy, even for crazies like me.

In 2002, at 30 years old, my 30th birthday in fact, I had a radical hysterectomy with a burch, some bladder mesh that held my bladder in place.  Prior to the hysterectomy I had 3 viable pregnancies resulting in beautiful babies and several miscarriages.  After my youngest baby was born I did the typical breast feeding, I didn’t have my period during any of my nursing months. When he began weening my period started and it was unusual in its heaviness but I processed it was probably the pregnancy and nursing junk now working it’s way out. Ignorant.

I suppose it was about 2 months before my husband was worried enough that he quit nudging me to go in and began forcing the issue. Good thing too. During that time my husband was coming out of the army, and coming out jacked up with a pretty bad back injury. He was traveling to Roseburg Oregon and back home to Medford pretty often via the VA shuttle, where he was undergoing tests and assessments and the like until he had to travel to Washington State to Fort Lewis and have lower back surgery. We opted to drive ourselves there.  I am throwing this all in there as this is what lead to my life changing event.  So we drove to Washington and checked me into a long term hotel unit since we were going to be there for a week or so. On the way I was fine, I had no period, I had just come off of one so I was left to assume I’d be okay for at least 3 weeks but certainly this week.  I was not prepared.  My husband got checked into the hospital the morning after we arrived and under went surgery everything went as expected. He was in and out of sleep and so I left him for the night to get his rest and went back to my hotel. I had a quiet evening mostly barring the crazies of Tacoma in the extended stay hotel on Hosmer.  I woke up sometime in the wee hours of the morning for the bleary eyed stumble to the bathroom I took notice that I have began to show signs of having my period, there is pink, but I JUST had my period. *sigh*  I did the toilet paper panty liner action and prayed I would be ok until familiar places had open shops to meet my needs. I went back to bed and was fine until morning.

Once I had my girl goodies to cover my period issue it was back to my husband and visiting him. Which was always interesting. Speaking to a person twacked out on morphine takes patience and understanding, lol he said crazy stuff. In between when I wasn’t with him he’d call me, pissed, wondering why I was never there to see him, he totally never remembered, even the nurses had to remind him I was there… over and over. Morphine, uhg. Once my husband was mobile enough it was time to gather him and begin our trek home.  The first night out of the hospital, we stayed in the same room for the night.  His instructions were to get up and walk every 20 to 30 minutes. He had to get up and move.

Heading home the next morning we had to pull over every 20 minutes for him to get out of the van and move, the road was hurting him, sitting was hurting and he was supposed to move every 20 minutes or so, so we pulled over and moved.  The issue with that is that I was in a single position sitting and my period was at this point VERY heavy, alarmingly so. When I would stand to walk with him and make sure he’s ok, my flow would take over and I’d make a scary mess, dripping down my legs clothes soaked mess. We’d walk and load up and make it to a rest stop and I’d clean up and change and do my thing and he’d wait for me to walk with him again. This was the pattern every stop. I should point out that this point I was bleeding so heavily I was having to wear a tampon AND a pad or there was a mess within 10 instead of 20.  We made it back to Oregon FINALLY after all day driving and stopping and decided to stay in a hotel for the night and rest, I was out of clean clothes, he was hurting.

During our stay In Wilsonville Oregon we decided to stop and peruse the Fry’s electronics store, walking into the store I made such a mess that I was being stared at like I am not ok. I turned, got clean clothes, cleaned up and we went to the hotel for the night. Super stupid I couldn’t even be in public for more than 20 minutes.

We spent the evening resting and I did laundry. The next day we took off for home, at one of the rest stops, there is some old man wearing overalls, he was salt and pepper beard and just a scruffamuffin. He had a dog, my husband and I were walking and it’s at an incline so he’s struggling and it’s hurting. He’s also laughing, but in between his “ow” you wouldn’t have understand him laughing, as an outsider. Why is he laughing? Same reason as me, the old man scruffamuffin had his dog, or was it? Who knows, the dog had  the head of a normal sized dog;  in fact a smaller dog and the body of a pig, a GIANT fat body, frankendog. Someone took the head from a lap dog and stuffed it into the neck of a pig. Well, the man only heard me laughing, and my husband “owing” which elicited the response from the old man “Bitch” to me. Which only got us laughing harder and owing harder, because he assumed I was laughing at my poor broke back husband when the truth is, we were laughing at his pog. Yes, I said pog.  Oh, funny.

Fast forwarding, we’re home, husband is mobile and recovering well. My period is still an issue and it’s every 3 weeks and for 3 weeks, my husband is forcing now, so I go in and start to see what’s happening.  I found out I have PCOS, poly cystic ovarian syndrome, my thyroid went to the dumpers and that all explained why: my skin changed, my hair started falling out, my exhaustion was all the time, and extreme sudden weight gain, it even explained some of the heavy bleeding. The heavy bleeding was from something else I can’t remember, I blocked out some of what I was going through and still I don’t think it matters, it’s a none issue now, a new set of things to stay aware of. Anyway, something else caused that, there was a lot of scarring and irritation.

My regular physician referred me to a gyno and so we went, underwent tests and biopsies. Within weeks I was in for surgery, which I was still protesting, I am being told that I am bleeding to death through my vagina and I still thought I’d recover and it would go away and I would be normal. This wasn’t the case. I was sick, I needed help. Biopsy came back with no cancer, but showed signs of developing cancer in my cervix. I was left the option of leaving my cervix or having it go too, being told it’s at risk for cancer seemed stupid to keep it, and, I had this funky vision in my head of my cervix having nothing to back it up would feel like a floppy tongue inside, which is really gross, I do not want a floppy tongue inside for my husband to discover. Whack it out!

Surgery went fine, it was quick *shrugs* I guess that’s good. I didn’t want him dipping around in my insides all afternoon so quick was fine.  I hit a funky sassy mouth depression about having my girl parts taken from me, as though  some how it was every ones fault, and I was on morphine so I am sure it was only stupid to them, to me I felt this was good stuff I’m saying.   Then it was sort of over, I stayed a night or two in the hospital, twacked out on morphine and running midnight marathons in my dreams and calling my husband flustered that he’s late for the race and we’re going to lose.

I don’t know why it was so hard for me to catch up to what was going on. I got home and my family, husband and children were all supportive. I slept a lot of course, I just had major surgery and on major medication. My youngest was just over a year, my husband still home on his recovery was there a lot, my daughter was a team player and acted as mom many times for our baby. She kept him from crawling on me and stuff. Sadly I needed her to do that. My husband was limited on what he could lift, our son was over a year and over the limit, so my daughter did a lot of the lifting for us for that summer. I love you sissy bear! Always!

My mom, this is where my pitiful life meets healing. I am going to delve into why I am crazy.  Rabbit trail but this will all tie in; When I was 14 my mother had a hysterectomy. I don’t exactly know why, but she had one. THAT was a pivotal moment, my mother was never the same. She kind of mentally tilted. I don’t know why. Just that it did. My mother opted to have her hysterectomy done vaginally, meaning there was no incision, no scar, just a haggered looking mangled vagina for a while after, just saying.  My mom had to have a heat lamp applied to her cooter 3 times a day. My dad tried to help her, once. -.- Do you know what that meant? Mmhmm, I had to step in and be the Palm Springs for my moms vagina. Her blood stank, surgery hole. 3 times a day, for weeks. Help my mom heal. So I was naturally under the impression that when I had my surgery, one that didn’t require Palm Springs sunning on my cooter, my mom would be johnny on the spot to help me recover. Help my family stay a float. Hell naw, she came to see me once in the hospital and rejected my every plea for her to come help me, she couldn’t take her pills later. She couldn’t leave my dad to pour his own glass of tea, which he was capable. My mom just couldn’t make it happen.

I was already wigging out about the surgery thinking that if my mom went crazy, I might too. I was stressed to the max about this.  I needed my mom, I needed A mom. If this is your story too, I am sorry. You will make it, you’re strong, I know you are, if you’re mom tends to be more absent than present, you’re independent and strong and you’ll be alright.   Moving on, so yeah my mom was in herself and I suffered a bit. The surgery the reason for the surgery, it all just took a mental and physical toll on me.  I got stronger and pushed through, two weeks post surgery I went school clothes shopping and got out in the public. I remember thinking of nothing but the surgery while shopping, people smiling and talking to me, I just wanted to cry and tell them I JUST LOST MY WOMANHOOD, but it wouldn’t make sense. So I silently wandered in the blank crazy medicated stare. It was at the mall so perhaps I just blended in, zing!

My body started to acclimate to my new normal. Since then I’ve gotten cool with the idea of my girl goodies being gone. No more planning if you know what I mean. My stresses are different but so am I. I still struggle with some of the emotional crap that went along with that time, talking about it, in this case blogging helps.  So hsyter sisters and misters of hyster sisters understand, you’re body is different, your mind will follow and it is temporary, mostly, the changes all smooth out. The worst and most lasting negative effect is my sex drive isn’t as strong. That all works out too. ❤

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