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SAH - Confessions of a Hyster-Sister Drama Queen… SAH - Confessions of a Hyster-Sister Drama Queen…

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Unread 03-24-2005, 01:07 PM
Confessions of a Hyster-Sister Drama Queen…

The fibroids just had to go… there was no other option left…



Eight years previously our intrepid heroine, Chicky, had braved a myemectomy to save her uterus, so that she could fill it with more babies if she so desired – but surprisingly she hadn’t desired! – so when at 37 she found herself with no iron in her blood and more sanitary towels than knickers in her cupboards, and even worse, no energy to ride her beloved mountain bike up so much as a kerb let alone a mountain trail, she knew she could put if off no longer.

Day1

She arrived at the hospital on the Saturday morning – quietly terrified. Eventually the time came to walk to the operating room, Chicky thought this was ‘it’ and actually comforted herself that there were ‘worse ways to… //gulp// go….’

Silly girl.


“Get that blood pressure thing off my arm! I have delicate skin and I bruise easily…”

How eloquently Chicky greeted the world once more, though she had no recollection of her post-op outburst, the nurses found it hysterical for quite some time.

Once back in her room Chicky tried very hard to make both eyes focus together – but due to the dreaded morphine, they weren’t having any of it – so she kept them firmly shut and moaned about the side effects of opiates – loudly threatening never to press that pca pump even if she was in mortal agony. Eventually someone listened, and some lovely diclofenac was inserted into a very undignified orifice – but for chicky… it certainly hit the spot and the effects of the dreaded morphine disappeared.

Six hour later Chicky was sitting up in bed, swinging her legs about in their glamourous stockings, she desperately wanted to get up and move about as she had trapped wind but she couldn’t persuade her nurses to let her, so made do with sitting up and trying to burp herself like an overgrown baby. The plan worked – a large belch could be heard across the continents, and Chicky was once more comfortable and prepared to lie down, shut up and be a good patient.

Day 2
Chicky awoke early to the rattle of tea cups and the beep of the blood pressure monitor – she moved about the bed gingerly… waiting for the pain. It didn’t come, sure she felt a bit sore, bruised and battered, she looked around. Attached to her wrist was a fluid drip and the dreaded untouched and unloved pca… a bag of wee wee was slowly filling somewhere down below… and there was another container also attached to something sticking out of a tube from somewhere. Chicky sighed… what had she done- is this what life had to offer her from now on?

Told you she was silly.

Day 3
By the evening of day 3 our Chicky had many reasons to be proud of herself… they included:
Removal of all drips
Removal of catheter
She’d taken a shower
She’d eaten 3 small meals
She had walked up and down the corridor swinging a santa carrier bag containing her drain, many times.
She’d solved 2 crossword puzzles and had only looked at the answers once!

That night she slept on her side.

Day 4

Chicky was awoken by the now familiar sound of the thermometer beeping in her ear… the sun was bursting through the window, she ate a large breakfast, during which she swapped pleasantries with her surgeon ;
It turned out that the liquid collecting in the remaining bottle was not as Chicky had hoped, cranberry juice, but was in fact liquefied fat and other glorious fluids draining from the incision… nice. Happily this too would be removed that evening – and she was given the news that tomorrow she would be a free woman. It was welcome news, but the liquefied fat thing somehow made her poached eggs slightly less appealing. She decided against putting butter on her toast…

That night she slept on her stomach.


So there you have it dear sisters, Chicky’s last day in hospital was uneventful and she returned home the following morning. She had had a subtotal abdominal hysterectomy and lapi-something (tubes removed). At this very moment she is feeling wonderful, no pain at all. I can see her happily sat typing some drivel at her computer, sniggering to herself – she is of course mad as a box of frogs and probably always will be – but I know she would like to thank this site and all who reside here for saving what little sanity she mistakenly feels she is in possession of.
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