As of today, it has been 16 days since I had a hysterectomy.

When my doctor first told me that I would be out four to six weeks, I was a bit skeptical that I would need so much time. I was expecting to strong-arm her into letting me return at two weeks…but she squashed the thought before it even formed fully: she would not let me return to work for a minimum of four weeks.

I'm no stranger to hospitals and both outpatient and inpatient procedures. I bounce back quickly from these things…my cousin thinks it's because I have a healthy lifestyle…I personally think it's the one tradeoff I was given for having so many things wrong with me! I was not allowed out of bed for the first 12 hours. As soon as my tubes and wires were all disconnected the next morning, I worked on getting out of bed and going for a shuffle down the corridor of my floor. Every pass by the nurse's station seemed to catch them by surprise, just as the nighttime staff had expressions of disbelief that I had absolutely no nausea from either the anesthetic or all the Percocet on an empty stomach. Like I said, it's a tradeoff.

They finally let me out later that afternoon, and I was excited to sleep a whole night through. I was mildly ill-tempered from the hourly vitals throughout the night. I've been hooked up to one of those automatic blood pressure cuffs before…I know it can be done without you disturbing me…grr.

The ride home was…painful. I swear that I felt every pea-sized pebble on the road. The seat belt was talented enough to hit all of my incisions with the waist and shoulder straps. Once I was home, I knew that I didn't care to leave again until the car was a lot less of a nightmare.

I spent the first night in the recliner, thinking that it would be easier to get up in the morning. I didn't sleep well. The second night, I slept on the couch, but I couldn't find a comfortable position there either. I wasn't excited to sleep in my own bed with Nick because I still felt every vibration like darts deep in my belly. I knew that I would be uncomfortable every time that he moved. Even so, I needed a good night's sleep, so I sucked it up, swallowed some pills, and finally slept the whole night through.

I've already posted this to Facebook, but I'm still humored by the pink, plush uterus my cousin gave me as a get well soon gift. Must share:



My surgery was laparoscopically-assisted. If you haven't had a laparoscopic surgery before, they basically pump carbon dioxide into your abdominal cavity to get a clear view of your organs. They fail to remove all of the CO₂, so some of it gets caught in the diaphragm and is quite uncomfortable. It's like you have a side-stich from running, but only you can't get rid of it. Since I was on so many depressants (opioids) at first, I was breathing shallowly and sleeping most of the time. My body did not get rid of the extra CO₂ very quickly. It wasn't until the weekend when I backed off on the pain medications that I noticed the pressure in my shoulder blades.

It's gone now. This was only my second procedure to use laparoscopy, but the other one was just as uncomfortable. I remember very keenly wishing for the long incisions. I've dealt with them before, and I don't mind the (what I describe as a) sting of incisions. To me, they're a lot more tolerable than that trapped gas!

A week ago, I had to pick up Sophie from the groomer. Nick dropped her off, knowing that she was over my weight limit. He gave me instructions to have the staff load her into the car for me and to open the door of her little kennel once I was home and the garage door was closed so she could get herself inside. Trying to placate him, I agreed to everything, knowing I wouldn't ask anyone to carry my cat for me. I would look like a total wuss! After I paid the bill, the groomer brought her out. I reached forward to grab the handle and she told me that she was given strict orders to load her in the car. "He said, 'She's going to think she can do it, but she's not supposed to.'"

I don't know if it's so good that Nick knows me so well. It definitely doesn't always work to my benefit. (He seems to be on to my dress-buying habits, and he's not happy. But he also bought me Paul McCartney tickets to cross something off on my bucket list…tradeoffs again.)

The majority of my surgery pain is gone now—at least it is when I follow doctor's orders to sit still and be a lump on a log. But it's hard. It's hard sitting on the couch and feeling normal, but not doing something with my time. When I do something, I don't feel so normal anymore. It's very frustrating. You Wisconsinites know: it took a long time for Summer to get here this year! Now that it's here, I'm stuck inside! I am surprised that little activities suck the life out of me, but I shouldn't be. When I talked to the surgeon before leaving the hospital, she cautioned me that just because I didn't have a long incision doesn't mean that it wasn't a major surgery.

It's now more than two weeks after surgery, but there's no way I could function for a full day at work yet. That was wishful thinking! I guess all those extra years at school gives doctors more insight than the rest of us…I guess.

I am happy with the preliminary outcome of the surgery, though. Gone are the sharp pains that stole my breath and made me afraid to go anywhere by myself that was too far away from home. The pathology reports came back Cancer-free, and I didn't realize how much of a weight that was on my shoulders until it lifted. I am doing very well; I just need to be patient!