Skip to main content

Boys, you might just want to stop here...

Have you heard of a miraculous procedure known as the uterine ablation--codename Novasure? Chances are if you are a woman in your late 30's you have, at least once. Perhaps by someone who said, "I had this procedure, and it's wonderful, and I haven't had a period since!" At least, that was how I heard about it.

Having suffered through crazy cycles, and anemia-inducing heavy periods, on and off for more than 20 years, I checked into it. After examining my issues--at 35, I was down to about a week per month without either pms or a period--my doctor gave me the options of hysterectomy or ablation.

Hysterectomy scared me. Abdominal surgery at 21 was one thing, but at 35, I'd never have a flat stomach again. And, I apologize to anyone who has been through this procedure, as I certainly am not trivializing it. That was just my initial thought.

So I opted for the ablation, after assuring the medical staff I didn't want any more children. Three's good, thank you. Actually two was perfect. Three pushed me dangerously close to the edge. Four would most likely put me in an early grave. I digress. The whole procedure was a breeze. Basically one day of downtime, no pain--actually the uterine biopsy was the most painful part, and that was very mild--and I was free from periods forever!

Or not. My doctor had advised that periods might continue for the first few months. And they did. They were much lighter, mind you, I no longer felt as if I needed a bi-monthly transfusion. But the first few months ran into a year. And the year has now turned into two and a half. Most women would have called the doctor by now. I don't want to rush into anything. After all it's a big improvement, and I am really grateful for that. And I know that the next step is a hysterectomy, which now scares me for reasons beyond the flatness of my stomach.

So for the past two days, I have eaten nearly everything in the house, preparing my burned up uterus for a fetus that won't be moving in. I have downloaded a period tracker app to my iPod and begun carrying "supplies"--always good for an uncomfortable giggle at the baseball field when Lily pulls a tampon out of my purse. I have contemplated calling my doctor but have not. I have listened to the stories of several friends, who had the same procedure with great success and shamefully felt a slight "why didn't it work for me" pang. And now, I have written about it, making it, in fact, real.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Did I Love Him Enough?

I just started reading a new book. It's called Weight Loss for People Who Feel Too Much by Colette Baron-Reid, who I discovered on my current favorite podcast: This is Fifty With Sheri and Nancy. It is blowing my mind and showing me that some of the extra pounds I'm carrying don't even belong to me. Seriously. This is yours, this is his, this is hers, and oh wait, THAT? That belongs to a person who isn't even part of my life anymore! Great. Take your shit back.

More on that later. But, listen to the podcast. Seriously, you will love it!

Anyway, while in this super zen, grown-up, boundary-setting, higher self head space, I need to tackle an issue I've been avoiding for about 18 years but really strongly avoiding for the last 6 months. My son is growing up. He graduates from high school on Sunday, and in a few months, he's moving to Columbus to attend THE Ohio State University.

Can I tell you a secret? I used to LOVE everything about THE Ohio State University, bu…

Why Didn't I Report It?

When I was 17, I went with friends to a party at a boy's house from another school. I drank too much and passed out. I don't remember much about the incident, but I woke up with my friend screaming at a boy, pulling me up and dragging me to the car. She told me that she came looking for me and found me passed out. The boy had his penis in my face. I don't remember it. Thankfully.

I never told my parents who would have said, "How stupid could you be? You shouldn't have put yourself in that position." They would not have said, "No one should put his penis in your face without your consent."

A few months ago, I saw a picture of that boy on social media. He's a man now. With a beautiful family. He probably doesn't remember that night. I wondered: What might have happened if my friend didn't walk in and tell him to get his dick out of my face? Were there were other girls whose friends didn't come looking for them? Did they ever tell anyone…

Before and After

We all have defining moments...instances when something happens--good or bad--and you know from that point forward you'll measure your life in terms of before and after that event. Of course there are sometimes more than one, but there is nearly always one.

For me, it was my brother's death. February 5, 1989. There have been others. A dear friend's death in 1992. Another brother died in 1997. My dad died in 2011. But February 5, that was the one for me.

I started to think of and look at things in terms of before Chris died and after.

Before Chris died, I believed in magic. In God. In miracles. After, I believed that you should never let yourself get too comfortable or trust happiness because it would be ripped away from you.

Before Chris died, I often felt special and love and cherished. For too long after, I felt pretty worthless.

Before Chris died, I believed that I was brave and strong. After he died, I felt weak and afraid when I needed to be brave and strong.

Before …