Surgery

***Warning. This is a TMI post about women issues. Read at your own risk. Also be aware that I have typed out this post while under the influence of drugs.***

Sometimes, being a woman is not fun.

The whole childbirth thing, body-destroying pregnancies, monthly periods...you get the point, right?

Well, I've been having some "girlie" issues for awhile now. And I'm not just talking about the childbirth and pregnancy stuff.

After a series of tests, it was determined that I had some growths in my uterus that were causing excessive bleeding. Fun, huh?

Because the women in my dad's side of the family usually die from cancer, and often times of the girlie bits, that was obviously a concern.

Thankfully, two tests later have shown that the growths are 99% NOT cancer. Whew... Still, waiting for the test results made for a couple of really stressful days.

As far as the growths are concerned, I had several options:

Option #1- Do nothing.

Say What? I suppose I could just ignore the three weeks of bleeding each month and the anemia that follows but I just don't feel like it.

So, no thanks to option #1.

Option #2- D & C with an ablation. Which means, in simple people terms that I could understand having my uterus scraped out and then the lining burned. Kinda makes you cringe just thinking about it, huh?

How did they know that I would love this option? I wake up each morning wishing that I could start my day by having my uterus scraped out and burned. Fun times...

Option #3- Hysterectomy.

Yikes! Do you know what kind of down time this kind of surgery requires? I have nine kids! Nine kids does NOT = downtime. And as much as not having any more periods is extremely appealing, I just don't have the time to do that kind of surgery. Plus, I can't see myself going on artificial hormones at this time in my life.

Option #4- Wait, what? No option #4?

I was expecting something like two weeks vacation in Hawaii, shopping for shoes and drinking fruity little drinks with fun little umbrellas.

Fine. What kind of a person made up this multiple choice thing anyway? a man most likely

So, in the end, I decided on option #2.

I had the surgery Friday at a local surgery center.

I was checked in, had my IV inserted and was then escorted back to the OR.

Talk about some fast acting drugs! One minute I was standing up next to the table, noticing that something cold was going through my IV. The next minute I was asked to lie down and my head started feeling a little fuzzy.

The next thing I knew, someone was patting me on the shoulder and asking me to wake up but I just couldn't quite peel my eyelids open. Weird.

Just a little side note-I hated my c/sections. I loathed them. The pain after coming out of surgery was the worst thing that I have ever endured. Some people don't have a hard time. I am not one of those people. I am the kind of person that pushes the morphine drip button 57 times in the first half-hour. Ahem...

I was told that most people don't have a hard time after having an ablation. That they don't even need the vicodin. That they are up and around right after. I knew that I would be one of those people.

I was wrong.

After arriving home, I experienced the same bone-numbing, sweating, screaming obscenities into the pillow, puking, crying, writhing pain that I had with the c/sections.

Except without the morphine.

Even the Vicodin didn't touch the pain.

Five hours of that kind of pain will make you want to take your own life.

Trust me on this.

Corey who was beginning to wonder if I was possessed by some kind of demon finally called the doctor's office and demanded asked nicely for something stronger for deranged lil ol moi.

They prescribed Percocet. Because this is a controlled substance, a trip to the doctor's office to pick up the prescription in person was required.

Because I couldn't stand myself anymore to be at home, waiting, I choose to go with him.

I waited in the parking lot while he picked up the prescription and went into the nearby pharmacy to have it filled.

To the hottie that got out of a neighboring car, spied me sitting there since when is a dying woman cute anyway? and flashed me the darling little grin, twice? He is lucky that I didn't erupt out of the LandCruiser and strangle him...just because.

Anywhoo, there I go, off subject again.

The sight of Corey running across the parking lot 10 hours later with my prescription bag in hand was the most beautiful sight that I have ever seen.

It was a huge testament of my willpower not to throw up the two percocet that I swallowed. And I discovered that one can frantically swallow continuously while praying desperately at the same time Ha! Say that 10 times fast!

Thankfully Mr. Percocet worked for me. I loved him so much that I wanted to marry him and make little baby Percocet with him. Except, I can't have any more babies. And after Friday, that is for sure...for sure. Tied tubes and a burned out uterus? It doesn't get any more final than that.

So, I will just enjoy Mr. Percocet for now. And be grateful that this surgery is behind me.

Thank goodness.