This F*cker is No Joke

Well y’all, we did it! No babies for this lady, ever. Except for all of my friends’ babies. And my future niblings. But you know what I mean. The overall experience was definitely positive but I do feel like I was slightly misled about the ease of recovery so I’m here to spill the tea. 

Day 0

I had an arrival time of 8 am for a 9 am procedure, and I assumed that meant a bunch of pre-op work but instead it meant almost an hour of playing pokemon on the couch in the waiting room with my husband and my stuffed rabbit, Ebi. There were other folks in the waiting room waiting for loved ones to finish their procedures, so the energy in the room was anxious as heck which certainly did not help my own nerves.  At about 8:45 a nurse grabbed me for some vitals, and then I returned to the waiting room for another 20+ minutes. 

While I waited for my doctor and my anesthesiologist to come to check in with me, I had a lovely chat with my nurse (who works for my doctor’s practice) about all of my feelings about my procedure.  When she asked how I was feeling I heaved a sigh and told her “I honestly don’t know,” she gave me a look that I’ve only seen women who have lived a very full life give.  One that said “Ma’am what are you talking about?” and I laughed in reply. She asked “You’re here because you want to be, right? You’re fully consenting to this procedure?” I replied quickly that “yes yes of course I just don’t know what to feel right now.”  She then looked at me again and said “well, you made it to this moment,” and that’s when it really hit me that I had.  A moment that I had been thinking about (read: ruminating) for so long was finally here and so if anything, I wanted to channel some feelings of relief and contentment.  I’m not sure who brought it up, but our conversation drifted to a discussion of the hellhole that this world can be, and how she sometimes felt some guilt working in Labor and Delivery when she found reproduction to be an ethical grey area.  One of my favorite moments when meeting new people is when my judgments are proven wrong - and this absolutely happened to me that morning.  Because of my nurse’s age (I guessed early 60s?) I assumed that I would be judged for my decision to opt-out of children at the young age of 30.  Instead, I was validated and seen and reassured in so many ways that I hadn’t expected. By the time she walked away, I was not only grateful af but also settled in a way that I really needed at that moment. 

Another nurse approached to insert my IV and told me that because my anesthesiologist was “old school” she’d have to put it in my hand.  This, of course, filled me with irritation on top of my anxiety because I immediately pictured an aging white man which was certainly not who was stoked to see on any day but definitely on this one.  But she quickly distracted me by asking about what game I was playing, and when I told her Pokmon her eyes lit up and she proceeded to tell me all about how she, her son, and his dad play pokemon together and it’s been fun to show her 9-year-old son the games that she used to play when she was his age. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Pokemon is a uniter of worlds and if you don’t at least find it endearing I don’t trust you. Shortly after this, exactly the man I had pictured arrived and brusquely introduced himself and asked if I had any questions.  I told him my anxieties about the effectiveness of anesthesia (the last time I was administered it, it felt more like twilight sedation and I really didn’t like it). He said it would be fine and left. Great, thanks, dude. 

My nurse then wheeled me into the operating room where of course I immediately made a joke about how different it looked from Grey’s Anatomy because I’m a dork. Thankfully the nurses and assistants mostly ignored me and proceeded to get me out of bed and onto the operating table where they then wrapped me up in warm blankets and all of a sudden the ceiling started swimming and I said “did you give me drugs already?” and they laughed and the anesthesiologist said “yep! See you on the other side.”

I woke up some undetermined amount of time later and noticed immediately how sore I was in addition to being groggy and out of it.  I was in the same cubicle that I had spent my pre-op time in, and my nurse brought me juice and told me that my doctor wanted to check in before I left. When my doctor came by she showed me a picture of a growth on my ovary that she “wasn’t concerned about but would biopsy anyway.” She showed me a picture and it was my first time seeing a picture of my insides and it was a little weird! Another nurse then helped me into a wheelchair and almost immediately wheeled me out to where my husband was waiting in the car.  The drive home was extremely uncomfortable for many reasons, none the least of which being the way my seatbelt brushed up against my belly and hit my incision sites.  I tried to hold it up and off of me but I was too drugged up to do it effectively.  I don’t remember the rest of the drive, or how I got into the house but I do remember slowly lowering myself onto the couch and wincing the entire time.

While she was in there, I asked my doctor to remove my IUD, so when I finally got up to go to the bathroom I was alarmed by how much blood was in my underwear, until I remembered that I had never had an IUD removed without it being replaced so it made sense that there would be more than other times before. I’m not sure if my cramping that day was from my IUD removal or from the procedure, but I was VERY crampy and held a heating pad to my belly for the rest of the day which did help thankfully.  I was on a pain relief protocol of Norco every 6-8 hours and 600mg ibuprofen every 6 hours, plus a LOT of weed.  

My abs were extremely sore, and since they sent the camera through my belly button my entire mid abdomen was bruised and uncomfortable. They had warned me that I may experience chest or shoulder discomfort because in order for my doctor to have a good view of my ovaries and fallopian tubes they would need to fill my abdominal cavity with C02, but what they didn’t say was that I would be experiencing chest and shoulder cramps that made it difficult to move my upper body in addition to my lower body.  So basically movement of any kind was extremely uncomfortable. 

It got worse throughout the day as the hardcore meds they’d had me on during the procedure wore off, and when I tried to get out of bed to pee before going to sleep I had to literally stop where I was and bend over to breathe.  With my hands on my knees, I felt myself starting to cry and my husband asked “you okay?”  I wish I could have seen the face I made because I’m sure it was one of the most scathing looks I had ever given someone - I replied “No. I’m not okay. This fucker is no joke dude.” Hence the title of this post, ha. 

Sleep did not come easy or comfortably but it did come eventually.

Days 1 & 2

I spent days 1 & 2 in much the same shape as I was on Day 0 - uncomfortable, cranky, and just trying to get through the day.  Thankfully two of my besties came over for much of the day on both days so I had company to distract me! I was out of the good painkillers by Day 2 though and so had to switch to relying on just over-the-counter meds and THC.  This was mostly fine as long as I stayed on top of when to take which med and kept myself in a seated position that didn’t require me to use my abs for anything. 

I had originally planned to fly to Seattle on Friday to get there early for a wedding over the weekend - I realized pretty quickly on Thursday (Day 2)  that there was no way I would be moving about the cabin the next day.  I very grumpily changed my flight to Saturday afternoon and crossed my fingers that I would feel better at some point in the next 36 hours. 

Day 3

Friday morning came and even though it was the first day that I could move around semi-comfortably, I was still a weepy lonely mess most of the day. When I moved my flight, I forgot to arrange to have anybody come over and spend time with me, so I was alone and still very uncomfy and thus, cranky.  Feeling helpless as someone who is a bit TOO independent proved to be extremely emotionally challenging for me, which ended up being an overall takeaway from my experience - I NEED to get better at asking for help from my people. (I’m editing this a good 6 weeks later and this still hasn’t gotten much better, ha.)

Day 4 & 5

Saturday was a travel day, and if you’ve never tried to pack, get to the airport, and get through security while quite stoned let me tell you it is NOT EASY.  What also wasn’t easy was moving soooo slowly through the airport when you’re used to being a speed walker. Everything was slow and because I couldn’t lift over 15 lbs I had to be very careful about getting my bag through TSA.  When even that was difficult, I decided that I was going to need to preboard in order to both get help putting my bag up and in order to move slowly without causing slowdowns in the boarding process. 

Naturally, a young woman who appears able-bodied standing in the pre-board line meant that the two old White men waiting to board the flight had something to converse loudly about while they waited. I believe the exact phrase I heard was “... these able-bodied people who for some reason think they’re special.”  Let this be a friendly reminder to everyone reading this that just because somebody APPEARS able-bodied, doesn’t mean that they are.  And if this is at all confusing to you, keep your thoughts to yourself.  I was a ball of rage, but far too tired to bring myself to remind these “gentlemen” of the above fact.

I made it safely to Seattle, rallied for a rehearsal dinner then slept soundly for the first time in well over a week. Sunday morning was the first one that didn’t have me immediately cringing and reaching for my Ibuprofen, and the first day that I woke up without chest/shoulder cramping. I ended up not needing anything but Ibuprofen to manage the pain for the rest of the day and by day 7 I was off painkillers entirely! 

Six Weeks Later

It took about a month for most of the bruising on my belly to go away, and my sutures stayed intact for nearly six weeks. My incision sites are still tender, but only one is still healing! I’m on the tail end of my first period without artificial hormones in my body in 4 years and let’s just say things are back to “normal” aka I’m bleeding like it’s my dang job. 

Six weeks later and I’m still confident about my decision and I continue to have that feeling validated and affirmed by the people I share this news with. I will keep you posted, and if that ever changes you can expect to hear about it, but I’m feeling quite certain that won’t be the case.

Thanks for coming on this journey with me!

Xoxo,

Cady