If someone had told me ten years ago that I would feel this much better after a hysterectomy, I would have saved myself chronic pain for the entirety of my adult life. I was ready for my first pint two days after I was out of the hospital – and it was glorious.
It certainly wasn’t all peachy though, The hot flushes and night sweats arrived with full conviction, but this is something I was expecting. And something I wouldn’t need to suffer with too long once HRT was prescribed. (Ha, check chapter 10) I was walking around supermarkets the day after my surgery, but couldn’t pick up a plate. I could get myself in and out of the bath, but couldn’t open doors.
The clexane injections are something I could do without, but I’m getting far better at them. To those of you fortunate enough to have not had them, they are injections to prevent blood clots which I had to inject into my stomach. The schedule of medicine I needed to take dictated a lot, and I needed to sleep far more than I ever have before. The nerve damage made this difficult as did the swelling and bruising. It would take me almost as long to get into a comfortable position as I actually slept for. My stomach was a thousand shades of green, yellow, red and purple. I was swollen to the extent I looked pregnant. But I was wearing false lashes and looked bright eyed and bushy tailed to the rest of the world.
After a long weekend with mother dearest taking care of me, I was ready to return home. I was only allowed to do this if I met very specific criteria.
- I must call Mother Dearest every night.
- I must call Mother Dearest if I am in any additional pain.
- I must not make my own bed.
- I must not make pasta in a pot (due to the weight of it)
- I must not lock the door when I go for a shower in case I have a medical emergency.
- I must not lock the door when I go for a bath in case I slip whilst getting out.
- I must not hoover.
- I must take extra care when opening the curtains.
- I must not clean the cat litter boxes myself.
- I must remember that I am recovering from major surgery.
So, if like me, you found this list completely unnecessary and hilarious, you’ll be glad to know that not only did I injure myself making my own bed, I also hurt myself making pasta, hoovering, opening the curtains, cleaning the cat litter boxes, I became very faint in the shower and fell getting out of the bath. Mother knows best. Especially my mother.
