Off we go, then....

In less than three weeks, on November 27th, I'll be having just about everything internal that makes me a female removed. Total abdominal hysterectomy, with my appendix taken out for good measure. I've been spending scads of time on my new favorite website, HysterSisters.com, which makes me think that chronicling the close of one chapter in my life, and the opening of another may be worthwhile. There may be someone else out there facing the same thing, and maybe, like me, reading others' experiences helps. Or maybe I'm just crazy.

If you're reading this after listening to PodCulture, the podcast I share with my dear boyfriend Brad, and his best friend, Glenn, then you already know me. Get ready to know me better. Maybe better than a weak stomach would like, but I'll try never to get too graphic. I can't promise that, though, since I've spent my life comfortable with the less pretty parts of a human. We are squishy, gross, exquisitely complex creatures, and it's beautiful. If you're reading this because you're a woman in the same boat, welcome to the Titanic. We'll be going down together.

The story so far....

I had ridiculous amounts of pain with my cycles when I was young, and after laparoscopic exploratory surgery, was diagnosed with stage IV edometriosis. I was sixteen. The doctor himself was amazed that someone so young had it so bad. Since then, I've tried lupron shots, depo shots, laparoscopic removal of deposits (twice), five different birth control pills, and four doctors. Up until the doctor I have now, no one wanted to do a hysterectomy. It was never even an option. Everyone threw around things like, "too young" and "she'll want kids". No one ever took into account the fact that I was missing four or five days of school (and eventually, work) a month because I couldn't get out of bed. When I wasn't laid up completely, I was a hormonal nightmare. I can't remember a time when I didn't have some kind of heavy pain killer in my medicine cabinet.

And then there was the "children issue". I love my brother, Eric (who'll be fifteen next month), and my sister, Miranda (who's eleven), but never have I wanted my own children. It was never an urge. When my friends were playing "house", I was playing "novelist in Europe". Kids are fine...over there...behind soundproof glass...heavily sedated. Okay, so I'm kidding...sort of. I'll be brutally honest. I don't actually like them. I know that sounds terrible. I got (and still get) flack from a lot of people for that. People look at you like you've got three heads when you tell them that there's nothing wrong with choosing not to procreate. From my own family I get the "someday you'll wish you hadn't had surgery". Where is it stamped in stone that you've got to have five-point-seven children (or whatever the number actually is) by the time you hit the big three-oh? It's a wise and self-aware thing to know where you stand. There are a hell of a lot of women out there who really "shouldn't" have kids, and they do. Likewise, there are plenty of women who are great mothers. I respect that, and more power to them. Me, I shall endeavor to live a happy, pain-free life, and leave keeping the species alive to them.

My the grace of God alone I managed to find a good man who understands my distaste for the little ones, and agrees. Should we ever change our minds (is it the apocalypse already?), there is a beautiful thing called adoption.

So here I am, filled with anticipation, fear, excitement, anxiety, hope, and everything else that I'm sure will come between now and then. With luck, my days of pain and exhaustion are numbered...

Until next time,
Cheers!