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  • Writer's pictureRev. Kate J Meyer, LPC

Recovery: Part 1

Yesterday marked two weeks since my hysterectomy. I'm happier to be on this side of things, but recovery itself hasn't exactly been a cakewalk.

I never did have a further emotional breakdown and for that I'm grateful. I was super busy at work leading up to the surgery and therefore my mind was sufficiently occupied. The night before the surgery, I put off the enema and special shower as long as I could--neither were all that bad in reality. I managed to get some decent sleep for about 4 hours, before waking to bathe again. The cleanser I had to use wasn't uncomfortable in any way, but it certainly did not have an appealing smell!

By the time my husband and I arrived at the hospital, I actually felt ready. One of my wonderful pastors came to pray with us before surgery and even she commented I looked ready to get on with it. And you know what? I was.

I was ready because leading up to surgery, my body decided I needed to experience one last period (I disagreed, but it chose to ignore my preference) along with some top-notch pain. I needed it to be over.

And soon enough, it was. I, of course, remember very little. My last clear memory before the surgery is explaining my tattoo to a member of my care team--a clever distraction on my way to sleepy-town!

All I remember of the recovery room is saying "ow" and hearing someone respond "I'm giving you more dilaudid". Now, in my mind, this happened several times and just seconds apart; but, my husband assures me I was in recovery a long time, so I'm guessing all was done as it should have been.

By the time I got back to my room, I was able to process a few things. My husband was there, I had oxygen flowing in my nostrils, and I was NAUSEOUS. As most nurses aren't eager to clean up vomit or watch a woman who has just had a hysterectomy endure more pain from the act of vomiting, my nurse was right on it with the anti-nausea meds. What I next remember is my husband repeatedly waking me from blissful sleep.

He wasn't being a jerk. My respiration rate continued to drop too low for comfort, so each time he woke me it was to tell me to take deep breaths. I did not enjoy this process and didn't understand it at the time, but, on this side of things, I'm grateful he did what he did!

The rest of my brief overnight stay is a blur of finding pain meds that didn't result in needing more anti-nausea meds, One Tree Hill on Amazon Prime, and sleep. By noon the next day, I was on my way home.

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