Chapter 63: The Hysterectomy

Note: This is not intended to be medical advice. I just know that my medical anxiety is better when I go into a situation knowing exactly what to expect. Also, everyone’s experiences will be different, but here’s mine.

The night before surgery I had to wash myself in Hibiclens, which is an over-the-counter solution that's used to clean the skin to prevent skin infections.It doesn’t smell great, but it was fine. Then I had to dress in clean pajamas and sleep in clean sheets. The next morning I had to shower in the Hibiclens again, dress in clean clothes and head to the hospital. I wasn’t allowed to wear lotions, make up, deodorant or perfume. It’s worth noting that I wasn’t allowed to drink or eat anything after midnight and my report time to the hospital was 9:30 am the following morning. I was allowed one sip of water to take my meds, but other than that, I wasn’t allowed to drink or eat anything. The food was fine, but I sure did miss my morning caffeine.

When we got to Sisters of Charity Hospital and got all checked in, I was brought back to fill out a bunch of pre op info. At this point, I had to leave my support people (thanks, Dad and Mimi!), but I was allowed to see them before I went into surgery. The surgical floor was super busy because of weather related postponements in November and December. I didn’t even get a bed for awhile, which was fine, but seemed to stress my nurse out a lot. The only issue here was trying to get an IV line started- I was dehydrated because I followed the directions, which makes starting IVs difficult. We blew a line in my right hand before we got the “IV expert” nurse to start one in my left hand. Then I hung out in my chair for a bit with my dad watching Josh Allen interviews on the TV until it was time to bring me back to surgery.

Here’s where things got a little… complicated isn’t the right word. Not as efficient as they could have been? I met with the anesthesiologist and the resident who was assisting with my surgery. I also met a medical student who would be observing and we traded stories of medical school v. law school while I was waiting. My surgeon was running late, so I had a lot of time to hang out in the cold pre op waiting area. The resident sat with me, and she was a literal saint. I told her that my biggest fear was the doctor getting in there and not being able to find any endometriosis, doing the hysterectomy and then telling me I was basically a whiny little baby who couldn’t handle pain. I know I have endo! It’s on my charts from my surgery 3 years ago. But I also was medically gaslit for about 18 years before that, and that’s a really hard thing to unlearn. The resident said something to the effect of: “Girl, endometriosis is a horrible and really under-researched condition. I saw your report from your last surgery. You definitely have it. You are not weak or crazy. There is a reason for your pain and I’m proud of you for taking this step to advocate for yourself. It’s an honor to assist in doing this surgery for you.” This wonderful woman held my hand when they put me to sleep, and made sure to save my K-95 mask in my hospital gown because it was pretty and she wanted me to have it back. I cannot say enough good things about her and I even wrote her a thank you note for her kindness.

Eventually, my doctor arrived (a little late, but whatever, it’s not like we could start without him). I cannot overemphasize how kind this man was to me. He asked me a few more questions, and made sure that I was still up for the whole hysterectomy. This was something we had discussed beforehand- he was going to double check morning of, but not make a big deal out of it. I gave him the go ahead, he left to get changed and I got the good drugs started and got ready to be wheeled into surgery. I can only describe what I was feeling at this point as relief. I have been in so much pain for so long, and I was so relieved to have a capable surgeon listen to me and be willing to help.

I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure the first thing they give you is propofol, which is a drug that slows the activity of your brain and nervous system. I’m not a recreational drug user, but the best way I can describe the effects of propofol is the most relaxing high of your life. It burns a little at the IV site, but other than, no complaints. I remember joking around with the OR staff as I was wheeled in about it being an all female staff (minus my surgeon), how much the DaVinci robot cost, and then proceeding to try to launch myself from the bed to the operating table. I somehow stuck the landing, they got me all situated and the resident held my hand as they put me to sleep.

The next thing I knew, it was several hours later, I had oxygen on and my vagina hurt. I hate waking up from anesthesia. It’s basically the only time I “sleep” (I know you’re not really asleep, you’re basically drugged to within an inch of your life) and don’t dream, so I hate being woken up from it. Apparently I was quite slow to wake up and my oxygen levels were low, so alarms kept going off. Finally a nurse sat down next to me and basically started telling me her life story and asking me questions until I woke up enough to go into the next room and see my dad and Mimi.

Once I was awake and in the next room with a new nurse, my dad and Mimi, I realized how late it was. It was already almost 7:30 pm and we had been at the hospital all day. My friends and family were anxiously awaiting news, with one friend basically ready to storm the hospital Beauty and the Beast style. I ate my graham crackers, drank my ginger ale, peed and got dressed. After that, I was allowed to be discharged. I felt so oddly normal (albeit high), I was ready to walk out of the hospital. My wheelchair chariot showed up and we made it back home by 9 pm ish. I had some yogurt, tea and was sound asleep by 10:30.