A breakup tale of a girl and her uterus
My uterus has long hated me. To be fair, I’ve hated her too.
And so, this week we broke up. We divorced. We called it quits. She out.
When we were twelve, I confessed I had no use for her. No children would be had, so she could wither up and wander away.
Instead, she fought back. With teeth.
Countless pairs of white pants were ruined. Events were awkward. Flights were abysmal. “Yes, I know the seat belt light is on. But this WILL be an emergency!”
Fibroids. Surgery. Fibroids. Surgery. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Sometimes a lime. Sometimes a lemon. “Oh my, I’ve never seen so many fibroids in one uterus.” That’s me, the consummate overachiever.
We went on and off everything. The #hothusband got the vasectomy. And yet, I still had to double up. Triple up. Stay home and curl up.
As a last f**k you, she attached herself to my large intestine. Now that was not nice. Not nice at all.
And so, in this year of Covid, of a lumpectomy, of using my health insurance more than ever before…
My mean girl and all of her friends had to go. Bye. Bye. Bye. 😘
In October 2021, I had a total hysterectomy with bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy (removal of the uterus, cervix, fallopian tubes, and both ovaries) after decades of painful fibroids and endometriosis. Since then, I've obsessively thought about the impact of the hysterectomy and subsequent menopause on my health and my life. I've read much and often feel like I've learned little.
There have been many unappreciated things –some expected and some surprises. But my only regret is not having pushed back harder, accepted less, and had the hysterectomy sooner. My quality of life is inarguably better without a uterus.
Hopefully, I can help others ask more questions, question things louder, and seek different care when their practitioner doesn't listen. As always, my experiences are mine, and my menopause may not be your menopause. #whitepantsparty
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