Physically, I'm Doing Alright

Since I had a hysterectomy on July 3rd, I keep asking myself if I feel different physically. There are some obvious answers to that question. I had abdominal surgery, and despite the fact that it was done laparoscopically, which is technically less invasive, I still have abdominal discomfort. A combination of four abdominal incisions plus one internally where my cervix used to sit, the resituation of various internal bits like my intestines and my bladder, and spending a lot of time sitting or lying down for over a month means that I have limited abdominal and lower back strength at the moment. As long as I am not carrying anything over a few pounds, I can go for walks, but one walk equals one nap. Doing dishes equals one nap. Going for lunch equals one nap.

I am not a napper. I have shunned napping since I was a tiny kid, much to my mother's chagrin. I always want to be awake and thinking and doing stuff, because sleep cuts into all that conscious experience I could be having. It has not been my favourite thing to spend half, and sometimes more than half, of my recuperation time sleeping. I am one who has a lot of vivid dreams, and when you spend as much time as I have immersed in dreaming, that shit can get really strange. I watch my brother butcher a Punch and Judy puppet show at a family event to celebrate cawgs (cat/dog hybrids), I am sexually pursued by many another blogger's significantly older partner, I eat live mutton, my mother repeatedly throws out all my socks and makes me buy a whole new sock "wardrobe", the Palinode teaches me chess with a chess set in which all the pieces have matching canes.

I suppose that this could all be seen as a better substitute for the real world, the one in which I nap and maybe get it together to do dishes or clean the cat litter.

So, we have covered the exciting topics of abdominal discomfort and being tired. And you are still here. I love you. What next? Oh, yes. PMS.

I have always become more aggressive/depressed/bloated/hungry within the week before my period, and then within an hour of getting my period, I become what I like to think of as myself again. What? you are wondering. Why is she talking about PMS? She's had a hysterectomy. Well, yes, I did have a hysterectomy, but I kept my ovaries, so I still get the hormonal cues. About a week ago, I bloated up, broke out in zits that rival my grade ten complexion, and muttered all kind of violent statements under my breath if anyone had the gall to try to engage with me. Yay me. I was curious to see how it went, because I usually rely on the arrival of a period, which is just not going to happen anymore, to signal my return to a preferable state of me-ness. This time, the crazy/ugly just ended without note, and I could not tell exactly when it happened. I just noticed that I wanted no one dead by my hands anymore. Basically, I feel different physically in this respect, because I no longer have to endure what I have always felt is an unnecessary annoyance for several days every month, a period.

The function of my external lady parts, and, oh, when I call them that I sound so bleeding conservative, so here it is, my vagina, seems to be absolutely up to snuff. It is a happy campground, which, I must say, is excellent. Horror stories abound about women who never orgasm again or live with constant nerve pain, and me, not so much. In fact, not at all, so far. All praise to my lovely surgeon.

And now, I can feel a nap coming on. I walked to this little café, you see, and my body's all Those three blocks were a killer, and now you have to walk back. Let's give ourselves two hours of dreaming about ripping the legs off upended turtles, shall we?.

#776: Why, Thank You For Noticing

Oskar And I Need Some Space From Each Other