So I sort of survived my laparoscopy last week, and I am in real pants for the first time in 10 days. Isn’t it just so beautifully ironic that I would look pregnant afterwards? I appreciate the humor while drinking wine. If the writing seems terse, it’s because I can’t really breathe very deeply.
I initially went in for endometrial ablation and sterilisation (they usually do the two together), as a less invasive method to stop my incessant bleeding. That’s when the fun started: My uterus is completely adhered to my abdominal wall, which can be due to a number of factors, including caesarean sections.
Note to any potentially clever people: I have been trolled because of caesarean sections and views on breastfeeding and all that. You don’t scare me. I have toddlers, nothing scares me.
The births were both emergencies, due to one baby arriving butt first and screaming, and the other deciding 4 weeks of contractions and lying face up was exactly what his poor, harassed mother needed. So not my choice, okay?
That meant the surgery was more than twice as long as anticipated. The complications have been very interesting: You know those endless questionnaire’s you fill in when you’re admitted to hospital?
They asked me about potentially having Ebola, but no one mentioned I would almost lose my mind. Long anesthesia can cause "temporary emotional problems" says the doctor.
I just laughed carelessly (crazily) and said that we should probably get me some medication, so I wouldn’t murder my boyfriend or sell my children while the crazy goes away. He noticed my wild eyes and gave me some elephant darts.
Please note, I am also having depo-provera withdrawal symptoms. Hands up if your doctor never mentioned those? They made me appreciate my own poor, harassed mother a lot more.
She went into menopause at 37, so I know menopause when I see it, and the withdrawal symptoms are quite similar to menopause symptoms. You oscillate between crying, thoughts of murder, hysterical laughter, some more crying, and then those sexy hot flushes. Luckily, the elephant darts prevent me from caring about it too much.
I have my gynecologist follow up next week, then I’ll know the path forward. Being a single mom, the operation will have to be planned with military precision, including temporarily moving in with my parents, as well as stocking up on Haägen-Dasz and merlot.
I’ve decided to keep writing about this journey, simply because it helps me process, and if it reaches just one woman out there, I know she won’t feel alone. I should probably start a wine-money donation fund too.