Yesterday, a doctor confirmed that I will need to have a hysterectomy in the next few years. I need this because my uterus (aka my baby case, baby bucket, ol' trusty) has several benign tumors called fibroids. I've had this condition since 2003 and have felt and watched them grow and shrink with each of my two pregnancies. Now I have one big tumor (big bertha) and it's pressing on my bladder and just making life uncomfortable. The uterus is an under-appreciated organ, the Rodney Dangerfield of the body. It's not the heart, lungs, intestine. It's just a fetus sleeping bag for 9 months and then it just fills and empties with blood every month after that. Despite its low profile, I have the utmost respect for my uterus because it defied the odds and kept my babies safe by not expelling them prematurely (as many doctors warned me) and not leaving them with dented heads (not a real danger but one I conjured up). I used to think that several of the fibroids kept my daughter company when she was in there. In my imagination, they looked like that purple character from McDonalds (see image).
Now faced with losing my uterus, I feel very upset. People need to stop messing with my abdomen! I've had 3 abdomen surgeries in the last 6 years! (2 c-sections, 1 appendectomy) Stop fucking with my guts! I know exactly how the recovery will be and it's not pretty. I'm not a stoic person. When faced with great illness or pain, I plummet into self-pity and usually depression. I can't help it and I wish I could say it wasn't that way but I like to be in control and also am a creature of habit. When you can't get up or walk around without feeling like you're going to rip open your guts, it's easy to get a little down. So I don't know what to think about this...maybe writing about it will help.
