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

For those of you who may not have been aware, 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!

In preparation for my procedure, 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 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. 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.

“You’re going to have to take a pregnancy test,” the nurse told me.

“They did one Friday,” I responded. “The only thing I’m pregnant with is a fibroid baby the size of a softball.”

The nurse shrugged. “It’s required on the day of surgery.”

“Okay 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.”

She looked confused. “Why is that?”

I gestured toward The Husband Dude. “Mr. Vasectomy over there is going to have some questions if I turn up pregnant.”

She chuckled. “Oh…I see…how about if I just pretend I’m wheeling you out for your procedure and then take you to the back door?”

I nodded. “I knew you would understand.”

Of course, The Kid was sitting in the corner the whole time looking completely grossed out at this sudden banter about his mom and a potential pregnancy scandal.

One of the other things they made me answer at least five times was what kind of procedure I was having. Again, I know they had to be thorough and make sure that I understood and consented to everything, but how many consents did I have to give?

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starting to feel paranoid, like was I going to wake up with a new hip or knee replacement by accident?  I mean, if they were 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.

The Future Is Now

I had what is called Da Vinci Surgery, which is robotically assisted surgery. It’s a bit like laparoscopy, where they 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. 

I’m surprised they don’t make commercials for TV about this thing like they do with prescription drugs. “Not only is the Da Vinci robot an excellent surgeon, he makes one hell of a turkey club sandwich. He’s single, ladies!”

Zero Pack a Day Habit

I came out of the anesthesia fog feeling like I was 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 The Kid, 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 a couple of weeks off 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.

“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?” I asked him.

The Dude chuckled. “Yeah. You won’t have that excuse anymore.”

I responded in my best Texas accent. “Well, they done tore that whole sumbitch completely down now! Ain’t nothin’ left!”

“Well, remember what Ron White always says,” The Dude reminded me. “Just because the roller coaster is broken, it doesn’t mean they close the whole amusement park.”

“So long Space Mountain. Hello It’s a Small World. No lines. No waiting.”

The Dude gave me side-eye. “There better not be a line. That nurse isn’t here to wheel you out the back door.”