I Had My Lady Parts Removed! How Was Your Week?

For those of you who may have missed out on my last few posts, I had a hysterectomy this last Tuesday. Therefore, today’s blog post is brought to you by the letter “O” for Oxycontin.

This Girl Is On Fi-yah!

So in preparation, I had to go in for pre-registration and blood work on the Friday before my surgery. Clearly, my hoo-hah’s reputation precedes me, as the fire alarm went off just as I arrived at the hospital. Sirens were going off, doors were automatically shutting, and an automated warning “code red” blared over the loudspeakers.

I was happy to see, though, that my workplace is not the only one where people don’t actually evacuate during a fire alarm, unless it was a pre-scheduled fire drill. The hospital personnel were just standing around looking at each other and us (the patients and guests), apparently not knowing what to do and not having any intention of evacuating. The alarm finally shut off right about the time the fire department arrived.

After twenty minutes of that, I was called in to meet with the nurse and she took my vitals. I noticed she kept taking my temperature.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s a little higher than normal,” she responded. “Not enough to cancel surgery, but it’s worth noting. Have you been sick? Were you outside in the heat for a long period of time?”

“No, but I did set off the fire alarm when I walked in,” I told her.

She chuckled. “Just don’t do that on the day of surgery!”

“Just tell the OR personnel to wear flame retardant scrubs and everything will be ok.”

Forty-Six And Not Pregnant

As in the past, I had to arrive on the day of surgery two hours before my scheduled procedure.

I have never understood this. I know it takes time to check you in, take your vitals again, and prep for surgery, but not two hours. And in addition to that, the surgery schedule is always messed up after the first procedure of the day, so it never starts until at least an hour after the scheduled time.

When I had my weight loss surgery, the schedule ended up being three hours behind, so not only did I get there two hours early, I had to sit and wait another three hours on top of that.

So they made me come in two hours early, and of course we had to go through all the medications I’m on, health history, and all the other fun stuff I already filled out on the pre-op paperwork and again on their online system, as well as already reviewing it with the nurse during my fire alarm appointment.

I get it. They have to be thorough. But seriously, today is Tuesday. Nothing has changed since Friday. Including the fact that I’m not pregnant.

Nurse: You’re going to have to take a pregnancy test.

Me: They did one Friday. The only thing I’m pregnant with is a fibroid baby the size of a softball.

Nurse: It’s required on the day of surgery.

Me: Ok but if it comes back positive, can you NOT come in and blurt it out? I’ll need you to give me some kind of signal.

Nurse: Why is that?

Me (gesturing toward The Husband Dude): Mr. Vasectomy over there is going to have some questions if I turn up pregnant.

Nurse: Ah…I see…how about if I just pretend I’m wheeling you out for your procedure and then take you to the back door?

Me: I knew you would understand.

Of course, Shane was sitting in the corner the whole time looking like this:

One of the other things they made me answer at least five times is what kind of procedure I’m having. Again, I know they have to be thorough and make sure that I understand and consent to everything, but how many consents do I have to give?

And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starting to feel paranoid, like am I going to wake up with a new hip or knee replacement by accident?  I mean, if they’re going to mess something up, I’d much rather they accidentally fix my boobs. A matching set would be really groovy!

By this point, though, it made me wonder if I should’ve taken a black Sharpie and drawn arrows to my hoo-hah saying, “Buried treasure here”.

I feel this goes without saying, but the pregnancy test was negative. Do you think they would give me my own show on MTV?

“Forty-Six and Not Pregnant” has a nice ring to it. The cameras could follow me in my day to day life as I work at an actual full time job, don’t make a sex tape, and don’t hook up with every dude who makes eye contact with me.

I can just picture the “confessional” segment where I admit to the fact that I didn’t get knocked up until I was ready at age thirty, and…here’s the crazy part…I was married!

I know. I’m such a square.

The Future Is Now

I thought I would mention the procedure I had, in case it helps anyone else decide how they want to proceed with this type of thing.

I had what’s called Da Vinci Surgery which is a robotically assisted surgery. It’s a bit like laparoscopy, where they have to make four small incisions in your belly and put these tubes down in the incisions. The robotic arms of the Da Vinci system go into the little tubes and the surgeon performs the surgery at a console, looking through an ultra-magnified monitor.

This is real science fiction stuff.  

Because it’s less invasive, there’s supposed to be less pain afterward and faster healing. I’m only a few days out, but I have to say, my pain is not at all what I thought it would be. So if that helps any of you trying to make that decision, I’m glad I could offer my two cents.

High As A Kite

Honestly, the first twenty four hours after surgery is usually a blur for me. I don’t remember much, except I do remember that the evening after my surgery I was watching election results and I remember hearing that Oklahoma passed the bill to legalize medical marijuana.

Somehow, it just seems appropriate that I heard this while I was stoned.

I also came out of the anesthesia fog feeling like I’m catching a cold. I don’t know what it is about me and major abdominal surgeries, but I seem to catch something just before or after. When I went into the hospital to have Shane, I had a really bad sinus infection. I was coughing so much that the nurse wanted to know if I smoked through my pregnancy.

I ended up having a C-section and discovered muscles I never knew I had when I spent the next week coughing and clutching a pillow to my belly. I can tell you that it’s not much fun after a hysterectomy either.

Slow Ride, Take It Easy

The Husband Dude took off a couple of weeks from work to help me out, since I’m not even allowed to drive and can’t lift anything heavier than around ten pounds for at least six weeks. We’ve had some amusing conversations about this whole ordeal:

Me: You know how when it’s that time of the month and you’re feeling romantic, I always tell you the roller coaster is broken?

THD (chuckles): Yeah. You won’t have that excuse anymore.

Me (in my best Texas accent): Well they done tore that whole sumbitch completely down now! Ain’t nothin’ left!

THD: Well, remember what Ron White always says:  just because the roller coaster is broken, it doesn’t mean they close the whole amusement park.

Me: So long Space Mountain. Hello It’s A Small World. No lines. No waiting.

THD: There better not be a line. That nurse isn’t here to wheel you out the back door.

Stay weird, my friends. Normal is boring!