A Year Without My “Hysteria”: A Retrospective.

It’s been a year and three months since I underwent a radical hysterectomy at age 35. Hysterectomy. Sometimes I can’t believe we still call it that. I think about it every time I have to say it. Sometimes I slip and joke that they removed my “hysteria,” only no one told my tear ducts. (Okay, there may be a reason I’m a drama writer…) I really wish there was a different term. I’ve tried out a few, and I think I’ve settled on Pelvic Renovations. In my case it was a complete overhaul due to an infestation of endometriosis. A fire sale of my organs. Everything must go. We excavated the ole uterus and all her friends. They did not go quietly or gently, and once they were out it was confirmed that they were so mangled, they never would have been able to bare the spawn they were intended for. Oof. Always gotta take a second after I say that. That said, since their departure I’ve learned a few things:

There is NO cure for endometriosis. (Okay, I knew this already, but damn a girl can dream.) For everyone who’s been curious if the surgery was effective, my answer is “it’s complicated.” There’s less pain overall, but I still suffer extreme flare ups, and they’re more concentrated than before, though less frequent. They knock me flat out in a way I use to be able to withstand. So what’s better? Less frequent but more intense? Or all the time but at a 6/11. Probably I would…