One Month Post-Yeet - or - Great, Now We've Made It Weird

 Well, 32 days, if we're being precise. But we're not, so fuck it.

Before I begin, a biology lesson for you: The human vagina, in addition to being self-cleaning, is something of an ecosystem. Much like your skin or your gut, there is a certain amount of good bacteria. There is also a certain amount of good yeast. These two things coexist in a balance that can be affected by any number of variables. If there is an overgrowth of bacteria (or somehow the yeast gets killed off), a person with a vagina can develop bacterial vaginosis, which has has some unpleasant symptoms (like off-colored discharge, odor, itching, and burning when you pee). This can also be caused by douching or just plain overuse of the vagina.
Oral (or intravenous) antibiotics for other infections will also kill off some of the bacteria in the vagina, which can lead to a yeast infection (called thrush in some areas of the world). Symptoms are similar to BV (odorless-but-abnormal discharge, itching, swelling, pain during sex and/or urination, to name a few). Uncontrolled diabetes, an impaired immune system, and hormone fluctuations can all lead to yeast infections. Some people will get a yeast infection immediately before menstruating. Regularly.
Developing either BV or a yeast infection does not mean that a person is dirty, "slutty", or anything else. It indicates a pH imbalance, or perhaps an underlying illness. If you think you have one of these issues, please seek medical care, and if anyone gives you shit, just drop me their name and address.

For legal reasons, I must state that you should not provide me the name and/or address of anyone giving you shit for normal biological functions. If you decide to do so anyway, also for legal reasons, I must state that the person in question will receive nothing worse than a medical pamphlet and a strongly worded letter indicating that they need to learn more about biology.

I saw my doctor today. It wasn't a "normal" post-surgical follow-up. Last week, I started to feel like I was getting a yeast infection. I won't go into details of symptoms, but they were mild. As I recalled after making the appointment, when I was on oral birth control (Seasonique? Seasonale? IDK, one of those shits that only gives you 4 periods a year), I used to get a yeast infection for like, a day before getting my period. They almost always went away on their own and were very rarely bad enough to merit a doctor's visit, or even so much as OTC treatment. Under normal circumstances, I would have probably ignored it completely, and if symptoms persisted for more than a day, started off with RepHresh (a specially-designed, vagina-safe product indicated to help balance vaginal pH and gently treat normally-occurring bouts of BV and/or thrush). Luckily, all symptoms stopped on their own, but I still decided to keep the appointment. I did just have surgery, after all, and I wanted to make sure that if I did have some type of infection, it didn't do any damage.

Fortunately, the doctor agrees that it appears that whatever I had is cleared up. He did take a culture just to be safe, but "everything looks really good". He is pleased with how I'm healing, and if I did have an infection (and not just a bad day), it didn't do any damage. He agrees that coming in was the right call as a precaution, but ultimately, it probably wasn't strictly necessary.
But so, um, here's a mortifying thing. Normally, when doing a culture/scraping/pap smear, the swab/brush gets swirled all up on the cervix. There is a myth that the cervix doesn't have any nerves (IT ABSOLUTELY FUCKING DOES, James). It does. For sure. I would argue, however, that the cervix is less sensitive than other parts of the anatomy, and it certainly doesn't react the same way to stimulation as those parts. Generally, when being swabbed, the cervix doesn't experience pain. (We are referring EXCLUSIVELY to swabbing here. Not brushing, scraping, biopsying, or any other procedure. Just wiping it with an oversized q-tip.) Pressure, sure, maybe a little discomfort depending on where the swabbing is occurring, but not pain. It's ideal to swab the cervix. But uh...I don't have one of those any more. So the swabbing was taking place on or around the vaginal cuff...which we have discussed previously is just the top part of the vagina sewn up like an old-timey coin purse. So now I have another gripe about hysterectomy unpreparedness.

NOBODY FUCKING WARNED ME THAT CERTAIN THINGS MIGHT FEEL COMPLETELY FUCKING DIFFERENT AND NOT AT ALL AS ONE EXPECTS THEM TO FEEL.

I'm not going to say I was getting off on it or anything. But the sensation was decidedly not unpleasant, and I was very, very confused. Of course the speculum still sucked (and I imagine always will), but the swabbing was unexpected and had me a bit red in the face.

Once you've stopped laughing, I will remind you that I may have to wait until after the holidays to get the test results back, because, y'know, holidays. But the big takeaway is that everything is healing well and looks as it should. I'm going to go eat my body weight in ice cream to forget about today.

Day 20 Post-Yeet

 Warning: This post is intended ONLY for persons of legal age. It contains explicit descriptions of sex-related bodily functions. Mom, Dad, minors, or anyone who doesn't want to read a quite detailed account should skip this entry.

I had my first follow-up appointment with the doctor/surgeon on Monday (day 17). There was no physical exam, just discussion about how I'm feeling, if I'm having any symptoms, and what the surgery itself looked like. We had a discussion about how smoothly the surgery went: there was very little bleeding, everything was as it was expected to be, and not to toot his own horn, but it was a more ideal surgery than some of the ones that are recorded for educational purposes. We talked about the dysmorphia issues I'm having with the scars, and he told me that over the next 6 months, the ridged, sinewy nature of the scars should drastically diminish. I was cleared to go back to the gym next week, provided I start slow, using no more than 10lb weights for the first week. The last question I asked was, "Can I start having sex again?" And that poor doctor had to say that I need to wait another 3 weeks before having vaginal sex.

Some surgical information: the type of hysterectomy I had removed the uterus, the fallopian tubes, and the cervix. For a variety of reasons, you don't want to leave the top of the vagina just...like...open. So once the offending organs are removed, the top of the vagina (which used to be attached to the cervix) is sewn together (like an old-timey coin purse) into a structure called a "vaginal cuff". I got to see a picture of this as taken by a teeeeeeeeny tiny camera from inside my abdomen. It's pretty cool; from what I can tell, it's about an inch and a half long, and was held together by 6-8 dissolvable stitches. By now, it's very likely that those stitches have completely dissolved, and the site is superficially healed. It is vital that the vaginal cuff maintain its integrity. Damaging the stitching line before it is fully healed can lead to a whole host of problems. Infection, hemorrhage, prolapse, and evisceration are all possible impacts of damaging that stitching. 

I about cried when he said 3 more weeks. It's already been 3 weeks since the last time I had sex (because timing and scheduling and sleep deprivation were not on our side). He did say that at this point, oral and anal are back on the table, if I'm into that. And like, yeah, sure, I am, but as I told him, it's not good enough. While I am one of the 20% of women who can orgasm from anal, and I have a partner who can get me to orgasm from oral about 75% of the time, it's just not the same. The most impressive orgasms always come from "p in v" sex for me.

But a less effective orgasm is better than no orgasm, right? And a fair amount of the pleasure of it comes from the physical intimacy of sex (of any kind) with a partner. Now, I'm not going to detail the toys we used, or the positions we contorted ourselves into, or anything like that, but there is a reason I wanted to get into the more graphic bits.

If you remember, I said earlier that my organs shifted a bit. I wasn't entirely sure how or where to, but I very quickly discovered that:

• without a uterus or cervix in the way, anal sex puts pressure (or vibration, depending) directly on the vaginal cuff
• the vaginal cuff is EXTREMELY sensitive
• it is now possible for me to have a vaginal orgasm by having anal sex.

When I say I had an absurd number of orgasms, I mean truly absurd. I mean I stopped counting at 8, then continued to have orgasm after orgasm. At one point, they all blended together, and it felt like I had a single, continuous, 5-minute long orgasm. I'm sure that's not actually what happened, because I'm pretty sure humans can't sustain that, but it sure as shit felt like it. Ultimately, I wound up having to tap out because I was on the verge of collapse. I'm sure the neighbors were grateful. 

Tuesday night was a repeat. We weren't going to, but uh...yeah, self-control is not something that either of us posses an awful lot of. Of course, that meant that we were tired when Wednesday morning rolled around, but what can you do? 

Yesterday, I went into the office for the first time since surgery. I considered wearing real pants, but I ran into an odd problem: the dress pants that definitely fit weren't clean, and the dress pants that were clean were too tight in the calves and thighs, but too loose in the waist. So I gave in and put on a pair of (opaque) black leggings and a very long sweater. Now, this was the most comfortable outfit I could possibly come up with, especially since they weren't work pants, and therefore weren't stiff. I had brought my electric heating pad because my back was sore (gee, I wonder why...), and by the end of my lunch hour, I needed the heating pad on my stomach. The incisions on the right side were sore, pulling and cramping. And despite doing no more work than I usually do, I was absolutely knackered by 3pm. To say it was unpleasant is an understatement.

I did end up taking a bath at the end of the night in an attempt to unwind and maybe work out some of the discomfort, but that didn't work out too well. The bath bomb was unexpectedly unpleasant smelling, so it was decidedly not relaxing, and unfortunately it didn't do an awful lot to resolve the discomfort. 

I'm sure there's more I could add, but I really don't feel like it, so I won't.

A Non-Yeeterine Post

 A warning: This post is not progress. This post is not pleasant. This post is me working through some shit, or trying to. It may or may not be yeeterus-related. It's probably at least tangentially related, but if you're only here for hysterectomy testimonial, you can skip this one. I'm also throwing in a great big trigger warning for body image issues.

It's no secret that over the past 6 months, I've been working on my body. Doing my best to eat better, seeing a personal trainer (which has been on pause for surgery, and fucking weirdly, I miss it), the works. I made some great progress before the wedding, losing about 20lbs and at least one dress size. (This is the first time I've seen that loss in writing. Oddly, it's not helping.) I've managed to lose that much weight while also gaining muscle, which is no mean feat.

I mentioned in an earlier post that post surgery, I had lost 4lbs in a week because I couldn't really eat much. When I called my doctor to get better anti-nausea meds, we discussed the weight loss, and he wasn't entirely concerned. A lot of people lose weight after removing an IUD (which I did, along with the uterus), and in most cases, this is welcome. Since then, I've been able to start eating more normally, and if I'm honest, haven't been eating the most healthy foods. I'm still eating less than I was before the wedding, and I'm not eating frosting straight from the container or anything, so I'm not doing too badly on that front. But I do think I'm developing a problem.

This morning, I decided to get on the scale to see if I had managed to screw things up (that mentality was my first clue that something was wrong). And I've managed to lose more weight. For the first time in I-don't-know-how-many-years, the scale said "175". That should have been a celebration. This is the lowest my weight has been since meeting my partner. And for several years previous. I'm pretty sure the last time I hit this weight, I was on disability for my mental breakdown and had trouble remembering to eat because I was so heavily medicated. And I wasn't going to the gym and particularly strong at that point. But there was no small celebration. There was a mild feeling of relief (that I hadn't gained any weight), and then I immediately felt like shit.
Because my body does not look the way I would expect it to after having lost 25lbs while also gaining muscle. (I'm repeating the gaining muscle for a reason. Fat is less dense than muscle, and therefore, 2lbs of fat will take up more space than 2lbs of muscle.) I look at myself and don't see progress. I don't see the smaller pants size or the shirts that don't cling quite so tightly. I don't feel like I look any different. I feel all the work, and all the struggle, and all the inability to eat, and still feel like a cow.

And then the guilt kicks in on top of it. I have made progress. The fact that my wedding gown zipped up without any struggle at all when it had a solid 5" that wouldn't close at purchase is proof enough of that. The fact that I bought junior's pants (albeit a size 13, but fuck) for the first time since college is proof enough. The fact that the size 12 jeans I bought over the summer are now a little loose is fucking solid evidence, especially seeing as how I've worn them all of once, so I know they're not stretched out. And I know so many people who have been struggling with their weight or who just have bigger bodies than mine, (Who I find both beautiful and sexually attractive, even though they're bigger than I am and yet I'm repulsed by my own body...what the fuck) who would never say it to my face, but who must be looking at this and thinking that I'm a complete asshole. Because if I see myself as a cow, how must I see them? Except I don't see them the same way I see myself. They may be objectively larger than I am, but they're not cows, or disgusting, or repulsive. I see them as gorgeous, Rubenesque, goddesses of women. I am, in fact, very much attracted to larger women, particularly larger women who own their bodies. ("Yes, I shop in the 'plus' section. And I look fucking good in everything I wear. And you know what? I wear fucking comfy pants, and there isn't a goddamn thing you can do about it, because I'm wearing what I want and I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks about it." That's insanely sexy to me. More places for me to caress? Fucking awesome.) The whole "more to love" idiom absolutely applies here. To other women.

Could some of this be related to the post operative weight loss? Yes. Could it be related to my current issues with the scarring? Yes. Will it fade? Fuck I hope so. Could it also be related to my obsession with fitting into that stupid fucking wedding gown? Yes, very much so, and I suspect that's where it started. I suspect that my fear broke something in my brain. This is something I need to work on. Wish me luck.
For anyone concerned about eating disorders: don't be. I have NEVER been susceptible to anorexia, bulimia, or the one where you exercise until you pass out. I like food far too much (and have no impulse control), hate vomiting, and am entirely too lazy to actually exercise more than is strictly necessary (or paid for). I'm just struggling with hating my meatsuit.

Day 15 Post-Yeet

 This morning, all the dermabond came off.

Well, specifically, I removed it. But it wasn't premature, and it's totally fine. I'll explain further:
The edges have been peeling up, as I stated previously. I had been trimming the edges to keep it from pulling. There were some bits that appeared to be...melting...into my skin. For lack of a better description. I was being careful not to dislodge anything too near the incision lines. But this morning, when checking the incisions (which I do multiple times a day, looking for signs of infection, etc.), I realized that one of the incision lines, specifically the worst looking one, wasn't quite attached. Like, as I moved, the incision line also moved, but not in the same way. So I peeled the edges a little, and the whole patch of dermabond came right off. Since that was the worst-looking one, I decided to poke at the other two (non-umbilical) incisions. They had the same situation. What looked like a fresh incision line was basically a scab, held in place by a layer of liquid stitches. So I did the only logical thing and removed the remaining bits of dermabond. The only marginally painful part was when there were parts stuck on hairs. (Before anyone gets all "TMI" on me, kindly remember that we're mammals, and all mammals have at least fine hair on the majority of their body.)

It was also fairly uncomfortable scrubbing the last bits of residue off of my skin, because bruises are still a thing.

I'm also dealing with a bit of body dysmorphia from the scars. Ok, I knew there would be some scarring. It's inevitable with any kind of major incision. Unfortunately, I hadn't really prepared myself for how...intense...they might be.
They're not large. Each one is, on the surface, about half an inch long, and quite very narrow. They're not terribly dark. So it's not a visibility thing. I have no reason to expect that they won't lighten even further as time goes on. So what's the problem? I can feel them. Very easily. Just brushing over the area, I can feel a thick ridge under the skin. It feels 3-4 times the size of the incision. And it's upsetting me. It shouldn't; it's not a big scar, it's not terribly visible, and it's not like I have any problem with other scars. I have plenty of them, and I've never been upset by any of them. So why are these different? Excellent question. I don't know. So this is a new feeling.