Factory Closed

It's over. It's done. It's out. My uterus has left the building.

As was the case from my last post-surgery post (from the day after my cone biopsy), please pardon this possibly-incoherent blog entry as I'm currently under the influence of narcotics.

We arrived at the cancer center bright and early- 5:15am. Ugh. We got all signed in, and then the waiting game began... consisting of answering the same questions repeatedly: "are you allergic to any medications? Allergic to latex? Do you have any dentures or removable devices in your mouth?" etc. The only thing I was looking forward to was my nice dose of Versed before they wheeled me into the OR. The PACU nurse injected me with Lidocaine prior to putting in my IV line, and wouldn't you figure, she got it on the first try without digging around. For my cone biopsy, I asked if they could use Lidocaine and they said they usually don't use it, and then proceeded to blow two veins and dig around like crazy. Ouch. Oh well, my IV line went into my left hand without a hitch and I didn't even feel it. Score. So after meeting with the anesthesiologist, nurses, doctors, and everyone else in the whole building (or so it seemed), I got my happy meds, kissed hubby goodbye, and was wheeled into the OR. Things got pretty fuzzy... I somewhat remember getting onto the operating table and trying to wiggle into the right position and them putting the oxygen mask on me, but that's about it.

I woke up in post-op after a long struggle to regain consciousness. I've been under anesthesia four other times and have never had such a hard time waking up, but then again I'd never been under for that long before. After my other operations, they'd wait until I was pretty well awake before wheeling me into my recovery room, but this time I was sent up to my room while I was still unbelievably groggy. I vaguely remember the feeling of relief when the nurse said she was taking out my catheter before she took me up to my room (hooray!) and I also remember her wheeling my bed around the corner and me seeing my husband standing in the hallway smiling at me. The next few hours were hazy.

The doctor told my husband that my surgery went exceptionally well and was one of the easiest hysterectomies she's done. There were no complications whatsoever and the doctor toyed with the idea of sending me home that day (!!!!) but apparently decided against it. It's fine- I wasn't quite ready to go home anyways. It was comforting to have nurses available to shoot me up with Dilaudid when the pain got to be unbearable.

Since I had to do a bowel prep the day before surgery, I was understandably hungry a few hours after surgery, but my mouth was so dry that eating was uncomfortable. I was able to eat some diced peaches and a few bites of salad, but that was about it. I was able to eat a little better when dinner time rolled around, and was beyond thrilled to eat the ice cream I ordered. Seriously- there is nothing on earth that is better than ice cream after surgery. The dry mouth combined with the throat pain from being intubated is miserable, but ice cream makes it all better :)

I didn't sleep well the first night. It was a combination of being on Percocet (can't sleep well when I take it), being in pain, and trying to sleep in a hospital. When the nurse came with more meds around 3am, I asked for something different so I could sleep. She offered me some more Dilaudid, which somewhat did the trick. She also told me that the doctor wrote a script for Ambien but it was too late for that... yea, no. I've heard too many stories about that stuff. The last thing I want is to take it for the first time while I'm surrounded by strangers in a hospital. Knowing me, I'd wander out of my room and try break dancing in the middle of the hallway in my hospital gown and not remember it.

I was discharged the morning after my surgery and felt reasonably ok. The tech removed both IV lines and I didn't even feel it, which is either a testament to her skill, or a sign of how strong my pain meds are. Or probably both. They put a second IV line in my right hand while I was under anesthesia, which I later found out was so that they could have a bigger line just in case they needed to deliver certain kinds of medications that can only go through a bigger gauge. They very clearly missed twice in my wrist and were successful in my right hand. SO glad that I wasn't awake to experience that. But imagine my surprise when I lifted my right hand for the first time and found an IV line in it...

Having had two laparoscopic abdominal surgeries before, I knew that the swelly-belly would suck and the umbilical incision would be awful. I was right. Day one is misleadingly good, day two marks the start of incision pain, and day three is when the back pain starts. Bleh.

BUT. It's such a relief to know that the cancer cells are out of my body and I can start to put this behind me. I'll have to be tested every four months for a year, then every six months for a year, and then yearly after that just to make sure that it doesn't come back.

I've had a few "wait, what?! I had a hysterectomy the other day?" moments. Even though it initially felt like an eternity between the date I saw the oncologist and the date of the surgery, it actually went by pretty quickly and I don't think I fully wrapped my head around it. Maybe it's just not even possible to wrap your head around someone taking out an organ that's been in your body since before you were born, which also happens to be the organ that brought your child into this world. Weird. But it's for the best. I've also had a few self-pitying moments as well, but that's to be expected. I'm not happy that this has all happened to me. But I also live by the saying "Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim." I have to say, it's an empowering quote to live by. I encounter people all the time that live like victims, constantly looking for someone to pity them. They're always complaining about being tired, stressed, life's not fair, blah blah blah. Screw that. I try to approach every day with a smile on my face. You'll rarely see me frown.

My little bug has been a great nurse... she came in to see me after she woke up and gave me sweet little kisses. Then gave me the remote, chapstick, and my Kindle off the night stand while saying "here you go" each time she handed me something. So stinking cute. She also said "good morning" and "I love you" and it made me momentarily forget about the incredible pain I was in. I missed her so much when I was in the hospital! But I'm glad I'm getting this all out of the way while she's so young. She won't even remember all of this, and hopefully she won't have to deal with a sick mommy when she's older.

So if there's anything you take away from this story, it should be this: get your yearly exams done, ladies! It can take up to ten years for an HPV infection to turn cancerous, but my case shows that it can also happen very rapidly. There's no excuse to not have a checkup!