Uter-less

This is, hopefully, the last time I will be writing about how some guy knocked me out, cut me open and stole my female parts (last I saw they were available on ebay and there was quite the bidding war). It's been about a month now and most of the time I totally forget that I had surgery (drugs'll do that to you). That is, until I bend or turn juuust right, and then I get a lovely little twinge that says 'hey dummy...you're not quite done healing'. There's still a small scab on one of the incisions and the scarring as nowhere near what I was afraid of. Instead of cool jagged scarring I have little round spots about the size of an eraser that look more like zits gone astray. And...dammit....I still have adhesive from the bandages. It's lovely, my big ol' white belly covered in fuzzy sticky residue..and not from anything exciting either. I tried make up remover (per the doctor's suggestion) but the stuff won't budge.
On the upside, at my post-op appointment I found out I'd lost 4 whole pounds! Woohoo? Hey I'll take it. I also got some LOVELY color pictures of my insides. Namely the top side of my cervix and my right ovary. Behold.....
I know, I know, not what I expected either. Awkward and disturbing to say the least. I mean, why ban ninjas? You'd think they'd be helpful unlike say...sheep herders?
I had mentioned before that from what I had read...the land of 'O' was going to be less than spectacular. Well, let me just say this....LIES....ALL LIES. Things are peachy keen thank you very much. It's ok I know you were dying to know.
I'm still a little moody and stuff, but I mostly attribute that to the fact that I'M STUCK IN MY HOUSE WITH NO JOB AND NO CAR....Oh, and I HAVE TEENAGERS.
I've been watching WAY too much tv. I suddenly live for Wife Swap....holy crap where do they find these nut jobs. And QVC....lord have mercy...QVC. Is there NOTHING to do in the south at 3 a.m.? Don't you people sleep?
So, all in all things are things and it is what it is.
Gotta run, it's time for Reba re-runs.

Got Yogurt?

Well, I survived. Exactly one week ago I had my innards tugged and yanked and some of them removed. And wonder of wonders, I lived to tell about it. I admit I was a little over-dramatic. It's not NEARLY as bad as I thought it would be....so far.
I just wish they'd warned me about the damn constipation. Yes I said it....I was constipated. I didn't shit for almost a week. They don't tell you going in that the surgery will send your system into shock. That the drugs will cause a back up in your colon that makes rush-hour traffic pale in comparison. I digested at the speed of old people humping. Because of course my insides weren't sore enough. I wasn't bloated enough (sidebar: it's EPICALLY ironic that having your baby factory removed makes you look 6 months pregnant). I finally resorted to the ONE thing I could count on...yogurt. Sometimes being lactose intolerant isn't so bad. Tuesday morning however, I awoke with a start. I shuffled to the potty at the speed of....well....I shuffled ok. And then I sat. I sat and I sat. I have NO ab muscles right now.....Ok so you're grossed out now, whatever.
The main thing here is I survived. The world has not caved in...it just feels that way. I still have ovaries and I'm WAY over emotional right now. This could be because they've gone into shock from the surgery (lovely little side effect) or because I'm due for PMS...go team. Either way it blows.

Men*O*Ponder

So...tomorrow's the big day. I'm officially saying goodbye to you. You've been a friend, an ally, an enemy, a demon. You've alternately given me life and sucked the life out of me. At times you clearly defined who I was. I have to come to terms with you being gone. You will no longer be a part of me. I threw you a party, burned you in effigy.
If you, dear reader are confused, I'M HAVING A FUCKING HYSTERECTOMY. Yes, dammit they're removing body parts. I'm glad, terrified, sad, angry, confused, relieved, anxious, frustrated.....pick an adjective and insert it *here*, *here* and *here*. To be more precise I'm having a supracervical laparascopic hysterectomy. Meaning...I get to keep my cervix and my ovaries. And no not in a jar on the shelf.
To make things a little more fun, I was laid off last week. Yep, that's right, more fuzzy lollipops for me. Go team. Oh, and side note...the next person who tells me these things happen for a reason will be removing my foot from their ass. That's right you will have to part your hair to take a shit. Why? Well I'm sure there's a reason in there somewhere.
I really don't know what to think, feel or do. The rational part of my brain says this is totally normal. But the chick in me (what's left of it any ways) is alternating between screaming in my brain and rocking silently in a corner. I know that a body part does not define who I am. I get that. I know I wasn't having anymore kids...between having my tubes tied and my illness, well...that was a done deal. There's just something so FINAL about this though.
Oh, and because this doesn't suck enough....apparently the O's won't be the same either. That's right the BIG-O. As in what makes them so spectacular is the uterine contractions....BUT I WON'T HAVE ONE ANYMORE. *sigh*
I'm torn between scrubbing the ceiling with a toothbrush and hiding under the covers. Overwhelmed much? Nah, not me.
I'm soooooo tired of putting on the game face and pretending I'm ok. I'm not. I'm resigned, there's a difference. Never confuse a desperate bid for survival with strength.
Ok, I'm rambling. But that's why you love me.