Holy shit, y'all.
Last week, I went back to the doctor for a routine follow-up to check the placement of the IUD and make sure everything was good. (It was.) While I was there, we had a discussion about the yeeterus.
And then we scheduled it.
June 11th.
On June 8th, I head to the hospital for pre-op bloodwork and other assorted testing. Assuming I'm not hiding some kind of major health issues, I'll be good to go on the 11th. I show up at the hospital again on Friday morning, and be prepped for surgery. Surgery should take about 20 minutes, using the DaVinci robot. Best case scenario, it's a single incision site, through the navel. If, for some reason, that isn't possible, it'll be no more than 4 additional incisions, each a few millimeters in diameter. Worst case scenario, something happens that makes the robotic assisted surgery impossible, and the doctor has to go in the traditional route. This is exceedingly unlikely. Either way, surgery gets done. Uterus, fallopian tubes, and cervix get removed, ovaries stay in place, and surgery ends.
I have to stay in the hospital for 24 hours after the surgery ends for observation. I've been led to believe this is COVID-related procedure. Assuming everything goes according to plan, I get released on Saturday the 12th and get to go home. By Monday, I can go back to normal work, since my job consists of nothing more physically strenuous than setting up a laptop and monitor on a table. After about a week, I can resume lifting like normal. 6 weeks after surgery, I have a follow-up appointment to check that everything is healing properly. At that point, they'll tell me if I'm good to go on sexytime.
Let the countdown begin, bitches.
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