hysterectomy | River's world…..

I had to laugh at my Facebook page’s memory section today.

It was a post I had written after I had my full abdominal hysterectomy in 2015. And though I’m laughing now it was anything but funny at the time.

For those of you who have been through it, laugh along with me.

For those of you who might have it in your future, I’m sorry.

The 5 things you learn after abdominal surgery… whether you want to or not:

Seatbelts are not your friend. They are medieval torture devices designed to make you gasp in pain everytime they tighten over your midsection.
You will have hairy legs for the first week following surgery. The resulting pain from bending over to shave them is not worth it… trust me on this.
Those awful grey stretch pants you previously never went out of the house in are now your go to outfit for the rare excursions you take to town. The mere thought of stuffing your swollen muffin top belly into anything tighter makes you break out in hives.
You become adept at picking up things with your feet, rather like a chimpanzee. Who knew you were so talented?
You anxiously await the day you can once again mow the lawn, stay up past 8:00pm and sleep on your stomach without cringing. (Okay, maybe not having to mow the lawn
hasn’t been that awful, but you know what I mean.

🤣

I’ve been known to pepper my speech with the occasional four letter word… but by far, the worst one to ever cross my lips was diet.

I was a normal sized child, a small teenager and a slim but curvy young adult. 110 lbs when I married my husband, and though I would positively kill for that figure today? Nature got in the way.

I gained a little weight at 35, but no problem. I hardly noticed it.

I gained a little weight at 40, and okay.. maybe I went up a size (or two).

But then I had a hysterectomy at 52 and gained a whole lotta weight. Being forced into menopause wrecked me and my body was no longer my own. No matter what type of diet or exercise I tried, the weight stayed on.

Next up was Covid lockdown with my husband teleworking and me cooking 24/7, so yeah. Another 10lbs.

And if that wasn’t bad enough? I blew my knee out last October. Damaged my MCL and ended up with a deep root radial meniscal tear… the worst kind. The kind that doesn’t heal. The kind that keeps you off the treadmill and plonks you on the couch. 10 more pounds and I’ve just about lost the will to live. Yoga pants are my friend and my clothes are silently mocking me from the closet.

I’m tired.

Tired of being overweight.

Tired of Covid ruining our travel retirement plans.

Tired of killer knee pain every single day.

Tired of the ugliness in the world.

Tired of the political and cultural divide in this country.

But most of all?

I’m tired of diets.