After years of suffering ridiculous pain with my monthly reminder of womanhood, I have been told that my lady bits need to be removed.
Now that it looks like my time with my uterus is coming to an end I am having some serious regrets. Seriously?! How the hell can I possibly be mourning the loss of the one organ in my body that has only done one good thing (my daughter) but has caused me 29 years of monthly hell?
I am sick, sad and twisted, obviously.
Menstruation has been a complete curse since I started the whole business at the tender age of 13. I was too embarrassed or stupid to tell anyone how much pain I was in, so I spent countless hours hiding in a bathroom stall crying quietly.
I guess I just figured that every female had the same pain and I needed to girl-up and deal with it.
The situation did not get better as I got older. I nearly had a panic attack at the mere thought of going into a store to purchase feminine hygiene products. I would circle the store like some confused shoplifter for ages before I would finally find the dreaded aisle empty of other shoppers so I could swoop in and grab what I needed without witnesses.
I get a bit dizzy when I think of the dollars I spent on “cover purchases” so I would not have to face the horror of going into the drug store solely for tampons.
Then I got knocked up at 20. My dear daughter was 2 months premature and my stupid malfunctioning lady bits nearly killed us both getting her that far along.
I love my daughter, cherish every moment I have had with her over the past 22 years but would no more consider being pregnant again than I would wear a pastel, floral dress. NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS.
Preeclampsia, over a month in the hospital, kidney failure, a C-section topped off with a year on prednisone did not make for happy pregnancy memories and provided further proof that I had no use for my womb. (I HATE that word, gives me the creeps just typing it.)
Post baby was a never-ending parade of birth control pills. Do NOT get me wrong here, I am extremely pro birth control. Hell, I was thrilled when my daughter’s doctor wanted her on the pill at 15 to stop the issues she was having with her own cycle. Assuring I would not be anybody’s grandma was a HUGE bonus. But when I took them, the pills didn't stop the hideous cramping, and also gave me migraines.
To top things off, I have never been good at remembering things. I can rarely remember where I left my keys, remembering to take a pill was a total crap shoot. My lack of memory skills occasionally led to a brief moment of rejoicing when my period showed up, but even the joy of dodging an unintended pregnancy fled fast with the onset of the cramps of death. I am completely convinced that a colony of angry gnomes inhabits my abdomen and are mining for diamonds or harvesting the world’s largest turnips.
By my late 20’s I knew that the pain I had was not normal, but could never convince any medical professional of this .
My search for relief from my monthly torture led to having my tubes tied, a uterine ablation procedure and many emergency room visits. Nothing worked.
The latest attempt to control the pain (which I now know is caused by endometriosis) was a Mirena IUD.
Once again my defective and stubborn bits would not allow this to work, although I really wanted it to be the solution. The usually 5-minute procedure took 40 minutes and was the worst pain I have ever been subjected to. And to top it off, my body rejected the silly thing 2 weeks later in a most extreme fashion.
Afterward, my doctor finally uttered the words I thought I would never get to hear: “You need a hysterectomy.”
I should be overjoyed, right? Yet here I am, debating how long I can put off scheduling surgery, kinda freaking out about what my sex life will be like after it and sort of mourning the loss of my proverbial womanhood.
Like I said, sick, sad and twisted.
My whole life, I have hated my own reproductive organs so much. But now that I have gotten here, I am having remorse about the entire thing.
Oh, well. Maybe I'm just ovulating.