Losing it...

I really wanted to go. There are too many meltdowns to mention here and tantrums and so on..but I was flying off the handle, getting irritable and generally being the patient from hell. I'm surprised I wasn't kicked out. 

During one of my major rages, another friend came to visit. She's a very chilled anyway and more to the point, I was ashamed of my behaviour. I didn't want to be seen like this at all.

I'd also just had a blood transfusion. I hope that they chose the right blood but I'm not dead yet. It was really unpleasant and took forever and forever. It was slow and cold. 

Kelly brought round goodies to boost my protein levels. Lots of quinoa which would really really help and my god I haven't eaten it in years and years. My god, it was great and I could feel my protein levels boosting as I ate. This was shortly followed by the support team with a suggestion which I was in two minds about. They have sourced daycare for me.

Arguments for

1. My own physical limitations - the latest incident has proved that I can't do a lot right now

2. My friends have work and lives

3. What happens if something happens again?

Arguments against

1. Do I really want someone there the whole day? I'm a very private person

2. Privacy, privacy, privacy

3. Language - can I make myself always understood in Spanish?

They agreed on 12 hours a day. Of course I had objections but they were adamant so I agreed too.

The food got better as Anna and Zoe cooked and gave it to the hospital. Now in a private hospital, should this be the case? I'll leave that for a another discussion but my god, it looked good. 

The day improved too...more friends came. This time, my three favourite Mexican sisters and my New Zealand Queen followed by two more friends and then more...that bleak room got a cheery party atmosphere and probably did me a whole lot more good than medication and blood transfusions.

One more day...but at least I can face it now.

A poor advertisment

All that fighting that I have as much protein as anyone else in my diet and then this happens. To be honest, I was ashamed of myself. But also, terrified on the idea of eating more..

Basically, what a shit advert for veganism was I.

Anyway, I woke up and felt the usual disorientation of an operation and then the support network came together. Eduardo and Debbie were in my room waiting for me to come back.

Now, while I was under anesthetic, there was a very funny incident at admissions. My friends were sorting out the paperwork and of course there was a few issues. The main one was other registering the birth. Now this flummoxed my friends. I'm not a Mexican national so don't have my birth certificate on my person. They were wondering what to do. The reality was that the admissions staff assumed it was an emergency Cesarean section and needed to register the birth of the child. There are physical impossibilities and then there are...well physical impossibilities.

More visitors...Kim came to see me and I wanted to know what was going on in the world. It seems in my absence that there's a revolution about to start in Egypt to follow the near one in Tunisia. People are fed up with the lack of democracy and the relationship with the USA. All I can say is 'Viva Revolucion'

More friends came along...it was the recovery crew. The whole incident really gave everyone a fright including me. I felt very guilty for this too. We reassessed my diet. I admitted that I don't like to eat much. One thought that perhaps a bit of meat would be a good idea (NO WAY!)

After everyone left, I decided to make a couple of phone calls. One to Julie because I wanted to see her before she left for The Netherlands and one to Roberto who despite being busy and not having any money, would appreciate being kept in the loop.

I hate doing this and feel like I was attention seeking but when one's nearly bled to death..I guess I've got the right.

Help! Bleeding alert!

And I was doing so well...minimal movement, resting, wearing ugly surgical stockings, sleeping loads and not getting stressed.

Simply, I overlooked a couple of points - the food and the protein factor.

It all went wrong on Saturday morning. I was having a lovely morning while Anna was teaching privately. I was contemplating getting up nice and slowly, write a bit and chill. And then I went to the toilet. Things felt a bit strange inside.

There was a lot of blood and by that I mean..a lot. All over the toilet and leaking around the bathroom. The weird thing was that there was no pain. Nothing at all.

So there I was...bleeding to death and not entirely sure what to do. More to the point, I was worried that I was destroying Anna's flat with blood stains. Now, a few things happened at the same time.

1. Colleague buzzed the intercom - he wanted to visit me. Now this teacher and I have a peculiar relationship with accusations of bullying and victimisation. To be honest, he's self centred and manipulative at times so was thinking how to handle the visit. Well, I didn't need to...spurting blood seemed a good enough reason to turn away a visit though how to make this friend not feel vicitimised was the real challenge.

2. Anna phoned..thank fuck. Her private student cancelled. She wanted to know if I needed anything from Soriana supermarket. I just asked her to come back as there was a lot of blood from nowhere.

3. Luis (the porter) came round though not entirely sure why. He saw the blood and immediately knew I needed help.

So, I waited for Anna. Sanitary towel after sanitary towel and still being soaked with blood. I googled 'heavy bleeding after hysterectomy' and had the same answer. 'Immediate Hospitalisation'. I was also concerned about Anna's flat so set on some damage limitations. Quite pathetic but at least it soaked something up. I continued to bleed and cried a but more out of frustration and confusion.

Anna came back and immediately phoned Dr. Quiroz and of course he said 'get straight to hospital'. She was soon followed by Vicky who wanted to help. We called a taxi. The whole process took forever (or so it seems) and I was getting weaker and weaker.

The taxi arrived and Anna with her practical head, got some binliners so I wouldn't bleed all over the taxi. Vicky got Luis to help me down the stairs which was an impossibility right now. I needed to be carried. Of course, I asked about my weight and was worried I'd be too heavy. But no..I weighed less than his children.

Maybe it was the lack of blood but it was all slow motion. I was kind of slipping away (to cite a cliche) and now I know what this means. All I do remember was telling Anna, 'but I was so good'.

Andrew was there waiting for us and then it was in the treatment room. Andrew joined me which was great and a surprise. More tests and more fingers and more questions. It looked like I was being admitted again.

The culprit was protein or lack of...so I rambled on about please don't let me eat meat. That was my main fear and really the world was getting more and more faded. Doctor Quiroz came in with a doctor with a good level of English and with the option of surgery. So it was not looking rosy at all and in fact pretty damn scary. I began to wonder what would knock me out first. Excessive blood loss or the anesthetic.

All the same crew were there. Some weird bandaging of my legs. I was out in a nanosecond.

The operation lasted marginally longer. In fact, I don't think they even bothered but they did. My first post op utterance was 'are you sure you've done it?'

Food glorious food..

There is no shortage of people wanting to feed me or shop for me. The missing part of this equation is that my appetite is dead.

It's a possible symptom of the operation. As far as I can gather, my insides are all turmoiled and don't know where to go. Nevermind have a meal and all food appears somewhat unappetizing and repulsive.

 Or could it be something else. Simply, I am scared shitless of gaining weight.

Hysterectomies can induce weight gain (around 10 pounds/4 kilos) and that's too much for me. Though most would say that I would have a healthy body weight but I'm not sure if that's what I want.

Also, the fact I'm doing nothing means that the pounds will pile on quickly.

Then, bloody hyster sisters website is full of women whinging about their weight.

One friend has been great at bringing round appetising food but due to her cultural background, it's important to finish the plate. So I do and not enjoy it towards the end

This was not part of any support group or forum..how to cope with eating after a hysterectomy when your relationship with food is not the best.

Bureaucracy and other inconveniences

Being long term sick is no easy business especially with papers to sort out to prove that I am indeed not fit to work and am entitled to a lengthy period of absence.

I am not going to rant about Mexico and it's system. Each country has it's own foibles and ways. I'm fine with it but it doesn't mean to say I like it. As always, with public spending, I guess they have to make sure the money is spent properly.

From an outside perspective and please forgive my misinterpretation here, the Mexican system is all about being guilty until being proved innocent. Or being well until being proved unhealthy. A doctor needs to see the patient first and then write a sick note for a while which needs to go to work and then the sick person gets paid. Muy facil, no?

Actually not. Like most bureaucracies, there are a few complications. Now, what most people do is queue in a skanky government office for ages and ages until a doctor can see them. This doesn't bother me. I am no stranger to musty government offices and waiting for a while with other cultural interpretations of what is a queue. The point is that I'm not well enough to really be outside in a non stressful situation. So a home visit is a must.

Now, Anna took on the IMSS responsibility. Brave girl. It seems to be a universal norm that dealing with government offices are exasperating and frustrating with no one answering the phone; rude and indifferent staff and a rather flexible view of what they can or can't do. Believe me, (although a private company) I had my fill of this dealing with British Airways over my suitcase.

Obviously, they behaved in this predictable way. Anna apparently got angry and eventually we got some clarity. Home visit after 8pm.

Zoe and I took a taxi to my flat which was in itself still difficult and exhausting. We picked up more of my things and then waited with an episode of Skins. My favourite series about British teens going wild. As Sod's law would have it, the doctor arrives.

Now this was a pleasant surprise...she was a woman! Since my diagnosis, I've had a series of men determining my reproductive future which irked my feminist principles. She really didn't examine me and just was there to answer questions about how I was feeling. She was lovely especially for one who spends the whole day writing sick notes and dealing with irate people.

But again, nothing is simple. The doctor knows that hysterectomies require at least 4 weeks off work and maybe even 6. However, she can't issue a sick note for that period of time. Very annoying but at least it will be all home visits.

I'm wondering does all this bureaucracy hinder a healing process by making things slower and more stressful.

Things to do when you're recovering from a hysterectomy

Now, I'm faced with a lot of time on my hands and the issue is how to manage it. Anna's place provided the thinking time for me and here's what I plan to do to fill the days.

Joining support groups
I've been doing some googling about hysterectomies. Sometimes, it's good to know more and found several sources. The main one is an online support group called Hyster Sisters with all that a women needs to know about a hysterectomy and was afraid to ask. It's quite comprehensive in terms of information but for me, it's well..pretty twee. We are called sisters and princesses. It's full of irritating acronyms like DH (dear husband) and BM (bowel movements). I have a real issue with acronyms and find them exclusive and with a fug like brain, it took some time to figure it out. And what's wrong with saying 'shit' and what about those who don't have a DH? I guess I write my DF/DGF/DFWB?

Oh yes...there is a lot of reference to god on there which is quite disturbing for a hardcore atheist. And a section called 'God Bless America' for the army wives and the boys fighting for the USA out in Afghanistan and Iraq. Though, I guess they are people too.

I'm not a huge support group person at the best of times. I joined anyhow and lets see what people make of my posts (if I can be bothered). I may be too sick to be belligerent.

Blogging
Another thing I did to avoid (pointless) hours on facebook stalking people and being all voyeuristic about my healthier friends was google blogs. Similar issue..all presented a rosy and happy view of what is a pretty dark operation. You know, a nice loving husband who has learnt how to clean because wifey is all laid up. I pay for someone to do all the cleaning.

There were no women like me. Nothing I could relate to or feel that I wasn't alone in this recovery period. My concerns are somewhat different like communicating with about a very new experience in another language, fashion, no booze and talking about the most amazing support group from friends who want to help. I spotted a niche and thought yes..there must be women like me out there. And so it all began -the blog. Usually, I'm not a fan of blogs. Most are self indulgent twaddle. But, it makes me feel better and maybe, it could support at least one woman and then I'm happy.

I publicised it on facebook but was far too shy to post the link publicly. Then on the couchsurfing 'Independent Women' group and already it seems that:

1. A Finnish friend told me her aunt also had a hysterectomy 10 years ago in Sweden. Like me, she was single and her GBFF was her main support. She faced opposition from the medical profession over the kids issue. No one would risk performing a hysterectomy on a woman without children even though she was childfree by choice. She got what she wanted at the end. Lots of parallels here but the sad thing is that my friend's aunt can't read English. I hope we can find a way to share.
2. Lots of comments about my bravery and strength. Not sure if I am particularly, but it's good to hear.
3. A 36 year old woman may need the same operation so I hope it helps her and also I've heard that another woman too had a hysterectomy also may find it of some support.
4. I am really quite addicted to googling so looked up feminist hysterectomy blogs. Needed a change from these all American housewives and was wondering if I could find something more fitting here. I found this link from a feminist all about her surgery blogging my hysterectomy. Now what was interesting was how much criticism this procedure receives from the feminist communities. It's all about removing the essence of womanhood. I actually don't support this view despite my strong feminist convictions. This woman agrees. If it's hurting and not working, get it out. However, that will the topic for another post.

Reading books
Got lots and lots of reading materials. Shame about the concentration span which puts a goldfish to shame right now

Social networking
Actually, I've got it under control. I really thought I'd be wasting hours and hours on facebook but no. Though I have time to answer emails and messages. People are obviously concerned about some vague status update and a profile picture of me in my hospital gown. A hysterectomy is not the sort of thing I really want to announce as a status update.

Sleeping
Am now a fan of a nap...this recovery period is pretty exhausting and more to the point..I can.

Visitors
I really like it when people come and visit and thankfully, it's a select few. No awkward conversations and no worries if I start to flake out during conversations. Not to mention the lovely food too. I never realised I had so many real friends.

Blissful times...Anna's half way house

What does someone do when
1 They are out of the hospital
2. Not ready to be in the flat alone
3. Things could go drastically wrong

Move into Anna's for a few days, that's what.

Usually, I'm fiercely independent and am happy with my own space and my own company. This time, the thought of returning to my place was quite daunting. The positive things about living in Anna's place are numerous like she spends a lot of time at work and is lovely company in the evenings. She smokes, has lovely cats and a great balcony and cable TV too.

Now, I panicked about food as I'm not supposed to cook anything for a couple of weeks. Not that it mattered anyway. My appetite was minuscule and I'm not a huge eater at the best of times. Anna's one of those people who always has a solution and thought of the porter of her building's wife. She's become pretty good friends with them (she's one of the best relationship builders I know) and I was convinced when she told me that they were good people and very trustworthy. And more to the point, unobtrusive and not a busybody.

After collecting the very few post hysterectomy clothes I could wear, Zoe and I took a taxi to Anna's place which was knackering and wandered up three flights of stairs. This is one the hysterectomy 'mustn't do' list but really, most of my friends' buildings don't have lifts and I'm shit scared of them anyway.

I perceived this like a halfway house. Not quite ready to go back to society as yet and needed a degree of independence. I also met Vicky (the porter's wife) and despite the language barrier, she's a lovely woman with an inherent gentleness about her. Her responsibilities were simple and straightfoward. Be there at 7am (yikes!) to rebandage the bandage and prepare breakfast and return to cook some food for lunch the next day.

Now 7am is not the best time for me. I'm much more of a night owl and not so coherent in the mornings. Yet, in a funny sort of way, it gave the day some structure and a reason to get up. Basically, I'm terrible at switching off and doing nothing so appreciated an early morning call. Vicky was sympathetic too as she had two Caesarians so was insistent on rest. That's a new discovery I made about Mexico that there seemed to be a disproportionate number of Caesarian births. I was always afraid to ask but at least it means that a lot of women understand my situation and know that having your abdomen cut open needs time and rest. And the reason for all these C-sections is purely financial. A Caesarian can be timed perfectly, natural childbirth can't.

I noticed another change. My emotional state was far calmer. I was much less edgy and anxious. Before I was fighting and now I'v come to terms with the fact. I am sick and I need time to rest. And there's nothing wrong with that.