Tag: hysterectomy

What Is My Life Like Without a Uterus?

by Jenn

It’s pretty boss, if me lying on this vintage badass couch at an antique store is any evidence.

Those of you who know me in real life know that I have had really, really bad periods almost every month for the last 20 years (yeah you read that right, 20 freaking years).

These periods, which included heavy bleeding and immense pain, impacted my quality of life significantly. I essentially planned my life around my period. Nothing could be done on the first day of my period, and sometimes even the second day.

There were many occasions where I got trapped out somewhere—on the side of the road, behind a toilet at college, at work, you name it—where someone had to come rescue me, or I had to wait until the pain lessened enough that I could hobble to my car and drive myself home, throwing up and shaking the whole way.

Yeah. It was terrible. And I don’t even have endometriosis or fibroids.

I have wanted a hysterectomy since I found out they existed, but it wasn’t until I was 31 that I finally got one. I was looking forward to the procedure for a very long time, and now that I’m almost six months post-op, this is what life is like without a uterus.

Driving my dad’s nice new truck for the first time this summer

No More Planning and Rescheduling

Like I said, I had to plan my life around my period. There were many occasions when I had to cancel on someone because I had my period. Whether it was friends, work, or a tattoo appointment, nothing could happen when I was in such pain.

It got to the point where I had to anticipate my period and just not plan anything for the whole week when I expected it to show up. That was very frustrating and annoying—it was like my life couldn’t happen because of this goddamned thing that had plagued me for two decades.

Now, I don’t have to plan tattoo appointments, vet appointments, trips, work, or dates with friends around my period. And let me tell you, it has been NICE. I went to New York City and Virginia Beach this year without worrying about my period, and it was bliss.

The view from my hotel in NYC after getting inked by the amazing anka.tattoo this summer
At a Greek restaurant in Norfolk, VA with my friends

No More Worrying About Getting Preggers

My husband and I have done the fertility awareness method (FAM) for the last five years to prevent conception since we both don’t want children. I love the FAM and think it’s an excellent way to prevent pregnancy (or even get pregnant, if that’s what you want). But it was work.

I had to take my temperature every morning to see when I ovulated and stick my finger up my vag every day to check my cervical fluid and write everything down on a chart. Based on this information, I could tell when I ovulated and therefore know when it was safe to have sex and when it should be avoided at all costs.

It’s been really nice not having to take my temperature, check my fluid, or keep a chart on my nightstand for the last six months after five full years of doing that. There’s also no panicking after sex and thinking, shit, was that really safe?

Now, it’s impossible for me to get pregnant and I don’t need a chart, thermometer, or intimate knowledge of my cervical fluid to ensure I don’t have a baby.

At a cool river in Stafford, VA (don’t worry, I didn’t stack those rocks, I know that’s bad)

No More Pain

God, the pain.

The doctors could not figure out why I was in so much pain with my period. It typically only lasted for a few hours on the first day of my period, but they were an intense few hours, sometimes so bad that we had to call an ambulance.

I did not have endometriosis. I did not have fibroids. My uterus was unusually small. It appeared perfectly healthy when the surgeons cut me open and took it out.

After two decades of being in pain and trying many different remedies and working with different professionals, it appears that the cause of my intense period pain was Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS). People with EDS tend to have bad periods, including severe pain and heavy bleeding, for reasons modern science cannot figure out.

Needless to say, I’ve been enjoying not being in pain.

I have no pain. ZERO. I do not have cramps. I do not have bloating or bleeding (except for very occasional cyclic bleeding, which has been a complete joke). I am completely pain-free. It feels incredible and I wish I had gotten my uterus out a decade ago because I have spent way too much time being in pain.

Without pain, I am free to enjoy life.

No More Anxiety and Dysphoria

As you can probably imagine, I developed a lot of anxiety and dread around my period as a result of the intense pain, which caused me trauma I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fully unpack.

On top of this, I discovered during the process of trying to get my hysterectomy that I do have gender dysphoria, so for the last year and a half with my period, I became increasingly aware of my dysphoria and my feelings around my period.

I don’t have anxiety around my period because there is no period. There is a part of me that thinks it may come back one day, but this is physically impossible. I’m just shocked that I get to live my life without a period and without pain, and that truth is still settling in.

My dysphoria has also improved dramatically now that I no longer have breasts or a uterus. I feel more at home in my body than I have ever felt, and this comfort and happiness have bled out into every area of my life, from my sex life to my daily existence (excuse the pun).

At Kickshaws Gluten-Free Bakery in Fredericksburg, VA with my husband

No More Bad Sex

I also don’t resent or hate my body anymore after my hysterectomy, as I did for basically my entire life. The freedom that comes with not hating my body and feeling that my body didn’t align with who I was has allowed me to experience things without so much mental and emotional baggage, including sex, which has been incredible.

Although I do miss period sex from time to time (any other blood lovers out there?), I absolutely do not miss skipping sex because of terrible cramps, depression, and anxiety about getting pregnant.

I also used sex to help manage my period pain, which was also traumatic in its own way, but it was one of the only things that helped at the end. So enjoying sex because I want to have it and not because I’m in pain has been nice too.

So overall, my life has been insanely better since I got my uterus removed. I wish I had done it sooner, although it was hard enough as it was to get my uterus removed in my 30s, so I’m imagining I would have had an even harder time in my 20s.

Have you had your uterus removed? How is your life now compared to before? I’d love to hear about your experience!

My Hysterectomy Healing Process: What It Was Like Healing From a Supracervical Hysterectomy

by Jenn

My supracervical hysterectomy healing process went really well overall. I was scared about the procedure, given that I was having an actual organ removed and not just my breasts (which felt very disposable and unnecessary).

Don’t get me wrong, my uterus felt disposable and unnecessary too—it was just that it was attached to a bunch of other stuff in my body, like my cervix, fallopian tubes, and maybe even my body itself. Ha. (But definitely not my soul.)

I felt way less scared about the surgery after getting my double mastectomy, as I felt like I knew what to expect, more or less. But here’s how it went and here are some herbs I used to help me heal.

Disclaimer: I’m not a medical professional and I am not recommending my specific healing protocol to anyone, nor am I suggesting that my hysterectomy healing process will be the same as yours. I am simply sharing my experience as someone who got a hysterectomy!

Preparing for Surgery

I didn’t do much to prepare for the surgery or the hysterectomy healing process outside of not taking my vitamins for about two weeks before. I made sure to wear loose and comfortable clothes to the hospital, and I ended up wearing my giant pink rainboots, as it was raining the day of my surgery.

As a lesson learned from my mastectomy, I made sure to drink plenty of water the day before the surgery and no salt the night before, as I wasn’t able to drink after midnight on the day of the surgery. For some reason, with this surgery, I was told I could drink up to 20 ounces of water until 8 a.m. on the day of the surgery, so I did that and I do feel that it helped me feel less dehydrated and sick after the procedure.

I also took my arnica homeopathic pellets, as I did with my mastectomy. I took five of them before the surgery and five after, then three to five pellets two times a day for about five days after the procedure, at the direction of my herbalist.

The Day of the Surgery

Before the surgery, I spoke with the nurses and anesthesiologists and surgeons who would be there during the procedure.

Why there were so many people, I don’t know. There were a few nurses, three anesthesiologists, and three surgeons. Some of these people were in training and there to observe the procedure.

I didn’t really like that all these people were there, but I wasn’t going to object. I mean, these professionals have to learn somehow, right?

When I spoke with the anesthesiologist, I told him about my terrible experience with the anesthesia during my mastectomy. I was very anxious when I woke up from the procedure and nauseous and dizzy for three days following that surgery. He said they would give me Valium prior to the procedure to ensure I wasn’t anxious when I woke up and other medications in my IV to help with the dizziness (medications such as Valium can help manage post-operative anxiety).

When the time came for my surgery, one of the anesthesiologists came in to give me Valium in my IV. I’m not sure if it was because it was given to me in an IV or because I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for hours, but that stuff hit me like a brick in the face. Seconds later, I was having trouble keeping my eyes open as they wheeled me toward the operating room.

I remember getting into the operating room and someone asking me to get from my current bed onto the operating table. I was having trouble doing this because of my IV and also the Valium. Getting on that table is the last thing I remember.

After the Surgery

The next thing I remember is the anesthesiologist who gave me the Valium shaking my feet and yelling my name. But this is a brief memory.

When I wake up again, I am lying in what appears to be the same bed in the same room that I was in before I was taken to the operating room. The first thing I say is, “It hurts.” My abdomen was really hurting. It felt like menstrual cramps, but different, more sore. It felt like I had had an organ removed.

A nurse came to give me pain medication. I dosed in and out of sleep. I wasn’t anxious. It simply felt like I was waking up from a long and intense sleep (which was a completely different and much nicer experience than waking up from my mastectomy). My surgery was about three hours long.

As I woke up more, I remember asking the nurses if the surgeon was able to keep my cervix and ovaries (I was told right before the surgery there was a chance they would have to be removed if there was endometriosis on them). They said that they were kept and everything was fine.

But I didn’t really believe it until I saw a text from my husband saying he spoke to the surgeon and that my cervix and ovaries were left intact. It felt like a miracle—the surgery went exactly as I wanted it to.

I had to go to the bathroom. The nurse—her name was Ashley—helped me to the bathroom to pee a few times. I was exhausted and wanted to lie in bed and sleep. The hospital was trying to discharge me even though I could barely walk. Eventually, after deciding I would not go home that night, I was transferred to a different floor, where I had my own room and bathroom. At this point, it was pretty late at night.

I cried as the nurses got me in bed and wrapped these weird devices around my legs to prevent blood clots or something. It was all just a lot to process. My husband came to visit me earlier in the evening but had just left to go home and take care of our animals. He would return the next day to take me home.

Here Come the Bladder Issues

I didn’t realize it, but I had developed urinary retention after the surgery, which means I was not able to completely empty my bladder when peeing. I kept getting up in the night to pee a lot (by myself most times, as calling the nurses was a hassle), but each time I felt a kind of burning sensation, like I had a lot more to pee but nothing was coming out.

I told the nurses about it, but it wasn’t until the afternoon of the next day that they did a bladder scan and found that, despite the fact that I had been urinating a normal amount, there were over 900 milliliters of urine still in my bladder.

One of the nurses did a straight catheter on me, which was not horrific but very uncomfortable, to drain the urine, hoping that would help my bladder come back online. It didn’t. A couple hours later, despite peeing, there were 500 milliliters in my bladder still.

That was when they decided that they would have to do an indwelling catheter.

If you’ve never had a catheter before, I can’t explain to you how awful they are. Basically, someone shoves a tube up your urethra to drain urine. The straight catheter was not that bad, but the indwelling one was terrible. A different nurse did it and I think at that point my urethra was pretty irritated, so it hurt and I cried. The nurse, who disclosed that she had never had a catheter before, asked me why I was crying.

The tube for the catheter continued to twitch inside me, which caused me pain. It was really awful. I cried a lot and started hyperventilating when the nurses came back to try and fix the catheter and stop the twitching, which meant they had to partially remove it and reinsert it. At that point, my husband was there, but unfortunately, no one could comfort me much.

Despite the fact that I was not in any way comfortable with the catheter or managing it, the hospital discharged me. I spoke to my surgeon and he said I could stay, but that insurance might not cover it because having a catheter isn’t a good enough reason to stay.

That was enough to get me out of there. I worked really hard to get insurance to cover the procedure; I wasn’t getting charged unnecessarily just because of this stupid catheter.

My surgery was on a Thursday. I had the catheter put in on a Friday. It was supposed to stay in for five days until my post-op appointment on Wednesday. There was no way that was happening.

I got through Saturday with the catheter (probably only because of the pain meds though), and then on Sunday night, I took it out. It had become so painful that all I could do was lay on the couch and cry; I couldn’t even move. I spoke to my surgeon and the doctor on call before I removed it and they said it was fine.

Fortunately, my bladder issues had resolved by then and I was able to completely empty my bladder. But if they didn’t, I would have had to go to the emergency room to get another catheter put in, which I was definitely not trying to do.

The catheter was by far the worst part of the procedure, as both my husband and I will tell you. And it wasn’t even because walking around with a giant bag of pee on your leg is disgusting and emptying it was gross—it was because of how uncomfortable it was and how I shrieked every time I stood up because of how much it was twitching inside me. Ugh!

Apparently, urinary retention is not uncommon during the hysterectomy healing process. During the surgery, they put a catheter in to drain the bladder, and my surgeon said this can really throw off the bladder. I wish I didn’t have to have a catheter inserted during the surgery, but for reasons I don’t really understand, this is just what they do. I do wish that they had just left the catheter in since I had to have one put back in anyway while I was awake.

The Hysterectomy Healing Process

My hysterectomy healing process was relatively simple. My abdomen hurt pretty bad after the surgery, particularly around my belly button, which is where the biggest incision was. I took all the meds they gave me because I was really uncomfortable (especially with the catheter) and the meds helped.

Getting up without help was impossible because I couldn’t really “bend” my abdomen properly to sit up or stand up because it hurt so much. I was able to walk around pretty well once I was up, but sitting and standing were bad. I also had a binder that I wore after the surgery, similar to the one I had during my mastectomy, which helped me feel a little better and move around a little easier.

It just took time to feel better. After a couple weeks, I was feeling pretty good and the pain in my stomach was virtually gone. At my post-op appointment a few days after the surgery, a doctor confirmed that my bladder was functioning normally.

When I saw my primary surgeon three weeks post-op, he said everything looked great and I didn’t need to come back. That was good because I didn’t really want to see someone who did a gynecological exam on me while I was unconscious that I didn’t find out about until after the surgery when reading my case notes.

What Herbs and Supplements Did I Take?

I did a few things to help accelerate my hysterectomy healing process.

  • In addition to my arnica tablets, I drank the same herbal broth that I drank after my mastectomy, which included reishi, burdock, comfrey, and a bunch of other healing plants (you can see the recipe here). I took arnica tablets for about five days after the surgery.
  • For my bladder issues, I started drinking a dandelion infusion at the direction of my herbalist almost immediately after getting home, which I made with both fresh dandelion from my yard and dried dandelion from Mountain Rose Herbs. It was disgusting, but I do feel that it helped my bladder come back online after the surgery. I did this for maybe one week after my surgery.
  • I also drank an infusion at the direction of my herbalist to support my healing. I made a quart of this every night and drank it the next day. It was equal parts oat straw, raspberry leaf, nettle leaf, and alfalfa leaf. I didn’t mind the taste of this. I did this for about two months after my surgery. My herbalist also suggested I add yarrow and some additional nettle to support my bladder for healing, so I did this for about the first month.
  • I took two different tinctures to support my healing at the direction of my herbalist. The first was a yarrow tincture, which I started three days after the procedure and took for a month post-surgery. The second was a Solomon’s seal tincture, which I took for two months after the surgery. I made both of these myself.
  • My herbalist also suggested that I apply a topical ointment of Solomon’s seal to my abdomen/hip area, but although I made the ointment, I didn’t end up using it. It just felt like too much on top of everything I was already doing, and the thought of lying around with oil slathered all over my body didn’t exactly thrill me when I was already uncomfortable.

I also used a heating pad to help with the discomfort of my stomach in the first week during my hysterectomy healing, which my herbalist also suggested and I found to be very helpful (that heating pad has helped me a lot with menstrual cramps too).

Returning to Sex After Hysterectomy Healing

Returning to sex was a little weird after my hysterectomy healing just because I still felt like my body was fragile. We definitely did not do any actual intercourse until at least six weeks post-op just to be safe at the direction of my surgeon.

My cervix felt like it was “hiding” (not sure how else to describe this) for a couple months after the procedure and we didn’t go crazy with sex because I felt it was still healing. It just felt different for about two months after the procedure.

Now, things are great and I have to say, it is pretty amazing to not have a period and not have to worry about getting pregnant. I’ll be posting an article soon about my life now without a uterus (hint: it’s awesome).

Although the catheter was terrible and the surgery was not fun, I overall feel like things went really well and I am really happy with how I healed and how I’m doing now, and I am very happy with my decision to leave my cervix in.

If you’ve had your uterus removed, I’d love to hear what helped you get through your hysterectomy healing process!

Why Leave the Cervix? Why I Left My Cervix in During My Hysterectomy

by Jenn

Disclaimer: This article discusses surgery, sex, and controversial personal opinions. Please use your discretion when reading. I am not a medical professional and I am not giving medical advice. I am merely explaining why I chose to leave my cervix during my hysterectomy.

Four months ago, I got a laparoscopic supracervical hysterectomy after spending 15 months convincing medical professionals that I needed this procedure (and hell yeah I threw myself a party after all that work, as evidenced by the picture above).

In case you don’t know, a laparoscopic hysterectomy is when they use robotic instruments to remove the uterus through tiny cuts in your abdomen and belly button instead of doing a longer incision down your middle. It’s less recovery time, results in significantly smaller scars, and is generally less painful for the patient.

A supracervical hysterectomy is when the cervix is left intact while the uterus is taken out. This is not commonly done in a hysterectomy, although it was a more popular procedure in the 90s when it was first being performed.

Many women and people with vaginas aren’t super familiar with their cervix. I became intimately familiar with mine after doing the fertility awareness method (FAM) for five years before my procedure.

The cervix is technically connected to the uterus—it’s all one organ—and it connects the uterus to the vagina. You can usually feel your cervix by sticking your finger up your vag and feeling for something that feels firm and squishy, like the tip of your nose.

Removing the cervix is generally done because of fear of cervical cancer. The majority of medical professionals will argue that there is no good reason to leave the cervix in during a hysterectomy. I spoke with three surgeons during my 15-month process and two of them tried to talk me out of leaving my cervix in.

So why would I choose to leave the cervix in during my hysterectomy?

Research shows that leaving the cervix in is less traumatic (it cut my recovery time in half): you recover faster, can return to sex sooner, and have minimal blood loss during the surgery. But all of this is not why I chose to keep my cervix.

Here’s why I left my cervix in during my hysterectomy.

The Cervix Impacts Sexual Pleasure

So this is a controversial statement, but I believe the cervix does impact sexual pleasure.

Doctors will tell you it doesn’t.

Other people will tell you it doesn’t.

Research will tell you it doesn’t.

The thing is, you have to decide for yourself if it does.

For me, and we’re just gonna be really blunt here, it feels good when my cervix is stimulated by my partner’s penis. I can’t imagine what it would feel like if my cervix wasn’t there, but I have a feeling it wouldn’t be great. The cervix doesn’t have a ton of nerve endings in it, but it does feel like more of a pressure when stimulated, which can be pleasurable for some people.

The cervix is essentially the “end” of your vagina. When the cervix is removed during surgery, the surgeon has to reconstruct the top of your vagina. There won’t be anything there but scar tissue—and nothing for a penis (or sex toy) to bump up against.

For lack of a better way to describe it, the cervix drops down into your vagina, so removing the cervix essentially “lengthens” your vagina. And, depending on the size of your partner, it may or may not feel the same when you have sex. (The cervix can also be stimulated during masturbation too!)

Not to mention there is such a thing as cervical orgasms.

Two Words: Cervical Mucus

So this goes along with the sex thing, and it’s really important to discuss.

The cervix is responsible for producing cervical mucus. If you are familiar with your cycle, you may notice that you are much more wet during ovulation (which can happen between days 12-22 of your cycle) than you are right before or right after you get your period. This wetness is your body preparing to receive sperm for pregnancy. Your body is making it as easy as possible for sperm to get where they need to go.

In other words, this is a really bad time to have intercourse if you don’t want to have a baby.

If the cervix isn’t there, guess what? There’s no cervical mucus.

Yes, the vagina has natural moisture in it. But it’s nowhere near the wetness produced throughout the fertility cycle.

My thought process was this: what was the point of not being able to get pregnant if I couldn’t have sex with my body producing that amazing fluid? Why would I want to get rid of that?

For the past five years, my husband and I have been meticulously avoiding intercourse when I am fertile, as we’ve chosen not to have children. So I was about ready to start enjoying my natural fluid during intercourse again.

Secretion of cervical mucus, in my opinion, can enhance sex.

Research shows that the cervix is also responsible for the secretion of mucus during arousal, not just during ovulation, and at various points throughout intercourse, including when the penis (or toy) bumps against the cervix. However, despite our knowledge of this, researchers still can’t definitively conclude that the cervix plays a role in sexual satisfaction.

But I made that decision for myself, and it was the main reason I chose to leave my cervix in during my hysterectomy.

It’s Less Trauma Internally

We’ve already touched on this briefly, but leaving the cervix in during hysterectomy results in a much faster recovery time. And you can return to sex sooner, so, bonus.

Leaving my cervix in cut my hysterectomy recovery time by half, from eight weeks to four weeks. I was able to resume intercourse at six weeks (my primary surgeon suggested we wait an additional two weeks just to be safe, although my other surgeon said four weeks).

The surgery time is also shorter when leaving the cervix in during hysterectomy, and it generally lowers your risk of complications.

Your cervix also has a bunch of connective tissue attached to it, which keeps it anchored at the top of your vagina. When the cervix is removed, this tissue has to come with it. It’s not proven, but suggested that leaving the cervix—and, as a result, the attached ligaments—may result in better pelvic organ function and patient sexuality post-surgery.

However, again, contemporary research says there is no evidence to support leaving the cervix during hysterectomy over taking it out.

Eliminates Risk for Vaginal Cuff Dehiscence

Have you heard about vaginal cuff dehiscence?

Don’t worry, I hadn’t either—until the third surgeon I spoke to mentioned it.

(In case anyone is wondering why I spoke to different surgeons, there are a couple reasons. First, I didn’t trust the first surgeon I spoke to. She told me that she would not consider leaving my cervix in during my hysterectomy. Second, the next surgeon I spoke to—the one I ultimately chose to do my procedure—wanted an additional surgeon there to assist with severing my uterus from my cervix to ensure the procedure went well, so I had to meet with this person too.)

This last surgeon was the only one who told me that if I wanted to leave my cervix in, it was fine. Even my primary surgeon suggested removing the cervix, but I was adamant about keeping it. This third surgeon mentioned that leaving my cervix in during the hysterectomy would eliminate the risk of vaginal cuff dehiscence.

Huh?

I looked it up. Vaginal cuff dehiscence is similar to vaginal prolapse, but worse. Instead of all your female organs sagging or falling out of your vagina, in vaginal cuff dehiscence, all of the organs in your abdomen are at risk of falling out. Vaginal cuff dehiscence is life-threatening.

It’s true. It’s a thing. And if you have your cervix removed, you are at risk for this, even though the risk is low.

So, yeah.

Also, I talked to my primary surgeon about having a higher risk of prolapse after my hysterectomy. He said I’m not at higher risk and, turns out, research shows he’s right—there’s not a much higher risk of prolapse between getting a supracervical hysterectomy and a total hysterectomy (where the cervix is removed).

If you don’t know what prolapse is, please Google it and learn how you can prevent it, because I personally know three women who have had this happen to them and your risk increases if you’ve had kids.

A Word on the Dreaded “Cyclic Bleeding”

One of the reasons my surgeon wanted me to get my cervix removed was because of what medical professionals call cyclic bleeding.

Cyclic bleeding is bleeding that still occurs during your period even when you don’t have a uterus but still have your ovaries (your ovaries control your fertility cycle via hormone production, so if you keep your ovaries during a hysterectomy, you will still ovulate and go through the cycle, even though you won’t have a period).

So how on earth can you still bleed if you don’t have a uterus?

When you have the cervix removed during hysterectomy (also called a total hysterectomy), the surgeon will essentially detach your uterus and cervix from your body and pull them out through your vagina. With a total hysterectomy, there is no risk for cyclic bleeding.

However, when you leave your cervix in during hysterectomy, things get a bit more complicated.

Since your cervix is attached to your uterus, your surgeon has to find a point to separate the two to leave the cervix intact. Although they do their best to separate the two, some endometrial cells (the cells that line your uterus and are responsible for monthly bleeding) can be left over after the surgery. This is what can cause cyclic bleeding after hysterectomy.

This didn’t sound good to me. After all, I wanted to stop my bleeding, not have it continue.

But then I looked at the research.

The risk for cyclic bleeding after a supracervical hysterectomy is pretty low. My surgeon told me the risk was about 15%, but some others I have talked to said 10% or less. And, cyclic bleeding only occurs for up to two years after the procedure.

In addition to the risk being low, the third surgeon I spoke to told me what cyclic bleeding actually was—it’s not a period or even close. It’s when you go to pee, wipe yourself, and see a teeny bit of blood on the toilet paper. That’s cyclic bleeding.

So has it happened to me?

Yes. And it was exactly what the surgeon said—just a tiny bit of blood, so small and so light that I wouldn’t see it if I wasn’t looking for it. It’s not even enough to get on my undies, so it’s not even really “spotting”, as people who mensurate know the term.

I have had cyclic bleeding twice out of my four cycles since my surgery, not counting the on-off spotting I had immediately after the surgery for about three weeks (which is expected and very normal).

I have not had ANY cramps at all since my hysterectomy, even with the cyclic bleeding. In my personal experience, this teeny bit of blood is a very small price to pay for being able to keep my cervix and have no change to my sex life.

Why I Got My Fallopian Tubes Removed

So while I left my cervix during my hysterectomy, I got my fallopian tubes removed. I originally didn’t plan on this, but my primary surgeon suggested it.

He said there is research that suggests that uterine cancer can start in the fallopian tubes, so by removing them, I could potentially help lower my risk of uterine cancer (even though I would no longer have a uterus).

This sounded good to me. Plus, I didn’t need my fallopian tubes. I researched it and got a little worried that severing the fallopian tubes from my ovaries would result in reduced blood flow to the ovaries, which I thought could impact hormone production. However, my surgeon said there was no evidence of this and I haven’t found research to suggest this either.

I also learned, after my hysterectomy, that getting the fallopian tubes removed eliminates the risk of ectopic pregnancy (where the fetus begins to develop in the fallopian tube—ectopic pregnancies are not viable and are life-threatening).

Although ectopic pregnancy after a hysterectomy is rare, it can and does happen. People who have their uterus removed but keep their fallopian tubes still have a small risk for ectopic pregnancy.

There’s really no reason to keep your fallopian tubes if you are having a hysterectomy. If you are pursuing a hysterectomy for any reason, I would highly recommend talking to your surgeon about removing your fallopian tubes to potentially reduce your risk of uterine cancer and eliminate risk of a future ectopic pregnancy.

When Leaving the Cervix Is Not an Option

Unfortunately, leaving the cervix during hysterectomy will not be an option for everyone.

There are two main reasons why someone would need to get their cervix removed:

  • You’ve had a recent abnormal Pap smear or are at high risk for cervical cancer
  • You have endometriosis on your cervix

Your surgeon will require your most recent Pap results before even considering leaving your cervix during a hysterectomy. If you have endometrial implants on your cervix or are at high risk for cervical cancer, it’s unlikely you will find a surgeon who will consider leaving the cervix during a hysterectomy.

And, in these cases, it will likely be much more beneficial for you to have it removed anyway (because you don’t still want cramping and bleeding after a hysterectomy, and you definitely don’t want to have a second surgery to remove your cervix if you have cervical cancer).

Are There Cons to Leaving the Cervix During Hysterectomy?

Yes, of course! Just like there are pros and cons to everything.

The first is that you will still need to have regular Pap smears to screen for cervical cancer. If you have your cervix removed, you will not need to have Pap smears.

The second is that there is a risk that you will develop cervical cancer and need to have your cervix removed during a second surgery. This is not ideal and surgeons like to avoid this, which is part of the reason why they want to get rid of your cervix in the first place.

The third con is one we’ve already discussed—the cyclic bleeding.

That’s All, Folks

I will be posting articles soon about my healing process for my supracervical hysterectomy and about what my life is like without a uterus. So far, it’s been totally blissful and I am loving life. If you have any questions about my procedure or more questions about cervix stuff, please feel free to reach out to me or leave a comment below and I will get back to you ASAP!

I Got a Hysterectomy: Saying Goodbye to an Organ I’ve Always Hated (Also Maybe I Have Gender Dysphoria???)

by Jenn

I originally imagined this post as being a kind of open letter to my uterus where I go “Dear Uterus” and talk to my uterus like it was a former lover or something.

The more I thought about it, the more wrong it seemed. I hate my uterus with the kind of passion I usually reserve for people who hurt animals. It has never felt right in my body. And, although I do love drinking tasty warm blood every month, I really, really, REALLY hate having a period and I fucking hate my uterus.

I have had intensely painful periods for most months of the last 20 years I have been having a period. I was resolved to spend the rest of my life with my uterus until November 2020. I felt depressed about it, but hey, I didn’t want to get surgery. Then I got my double mastectomy and didn’t feel so scared about surgery.

I had one of the most painful periods I have ever had in November 2020, just before my double mastectomy. It was so bad that my husband had to call 911 (that’s not the first time that’s happened). And that’s when I said: I’m DONE. I’m SO fucking done.

I’m done with being in pain.

I’m done with having an organ I hate.

I’m done with being a woman, whatever the fuck that means.

I’m done with living a life that doesn’t feel like mine.

And so, after having never been to an OB/GYN at the age of 30, I started making some phone calls the next month. Everyone was booked out because of COVID, so I couldn’t get an appointment until March of 2021.

That First OB/GYN Appointment

My plan was that the doctor would find something horribly wrong with my uterus and I would be able to get surgery to remove it.

But when my appointment came, the doctor only pushed for birth control and other pharmaceuticals to stop my pain and even prevent me from having a period. I’m very against pharmaceuticals, including birth control, for a variety of reasons, so this wasn’t an option for me.

I pushed her to give me a referral for an ultrasound to help determine if I had fibroids, which could be causing my intense period pain. Although she begrudgingly wrote me the referral, she said, “I don’t think you have fibroids.”

OK WELL LET’S CHECK SHALL WE DOC?

To my dismay, I did not have fibroids. The doctor said she didn’t know if I had endometriosis, and that even if I did, I wouldn’t just magically get my uterus removed. I would have to try birth control, then try an IUD, and then get the lining of my uterus burned before surgery would be considered.

Even then, the doctor said that if they opened me up during surgery and didn’t find endometriosis, they would have to leave my uterus in, otherwise it would be considered “doing harm”. To which I wanted to say, “Your job and this appointment are literally doing harm”. But I didn’t. I just left.

I spoke with another doctor who basically said the same thing. So I was done with this route of “treatment”. It felt like I went to them begging for help and they refused to help me unless I consented to drugs and hormones.

And that’s when I realized: I’ve already had top surgery. I can try to pursue this surgery by saying that my uterus removal is about my gender.

Calling All the Therapists

I felt like I was finding my way in a dark room throughout this process and turning on lights one by one. I didn’t know where to turn, but what I did know was that I would need letters to support the medical “need” for my surgery from therapists who knew something about gender.

I reached out to probably a dozen therapists. I was candid with the ones I did talk to: I was in pain and wasn’t willing to accept the treatment the doctors were offering me. I technically qualified as non-binary—would they be willing to assess me for gender dysphoria so I could get a hysterectomy?

A few of the therapists didn’t get back to me. A couple people I spoke with said they would help me. I eventually started seeing one of them, but didn’t feel that we were a good fit. But they did refer me to Chase Brexton, an agency known for working with transgender and non-binary individuals.

Getting the Two Letters

So I became a patient at Chase Brexton and began the process of getting my letters there. It took about six months for me to talk to four different people there and to get my letters. It was a whole process, and at the end of it, I learned something about myself.

Although I do consider myself to be more agender than anything—and I didn’t (and still don’t) feel that my breast surgery was about my gender, nor would my uterus surgery be—I did have gender dysphoria.

I didn’t lie to the therapists I spoke to. Everything I told them was the truth. It just also happened that I wanted my uterus removed because I couldn’t stop my intense period pain.

For those who are wondering why I’m in so much pain every month, just know that your girl has spent the last 20 years trying to figure out exactly that, trying many different remedies and lifestyle changes, all to figure out that I probably have terrible periods because of Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (EDS). People with EDS tend to experience terrible periods with heavy bleeding for no reason that modern medicine can figure out.

Although working with my herbalist has helped improved my pain immensely, it was not enough to make me feel like I could live another 25 years with a period, not to mention the depression I would get every month as a result of dysphoria. If I’m honest with myself, just HAVING a uterus makes me dysphoric and unhappy.

Anyway! While I was getting my letters from Chase Brexton, I interviewed another OB/GYN doctor for my surgery and felt confident pursuing the procedure with him. I submitted my letters to his office and he confirmed that he received them and would be in touch once he had more information from the insurance company.

Getting ANOTHER Letter

I waited six weeks and didn’t hear anything. When I followed up with him, I got a call from his office from two providers (one a nurse and one a social worker). They said they got preliminary approval for the surgery from the insurance company, which meant I could schedule the surgery. However, they were concerned with getting the final approval, which would happen 30 days before the surgery.

The reason for their concern was that my insurance company requires 12 months of hormone therapy in the form of testosterone prior to getting this particular gender-affirming surgery. Since I am not a male and don’t want to transition to being a male, this therapy does not make sense for me and is medically unnecessary.

The providers from my surgeon’s office shared that having another letter—in addition to the two I’d already gotten—might help the insurance company agree to cover the procedure for the final approval. This letter would be from a medical doctor instead of a therapist stating that I did not need testosterone and it would even be harmful for me to have to do this prior to my procedure. So I contacted my primary care doctor with Chase Brexton.

She immediately agreed to help me and I got the letter from her within a week after our appointment. I submitted the letter to my surgeon’s office and waited to hear back regarding scheduling.

So now I had three letters from three different professionals stating that I had gender dysphoria. At this point, it was nearing the end of December 2021, over a year after I started this process.

Seeing ANOTHER Surgeon

After my surgeon had THREE letters certifying my gender dysphoria and the unnecessariness of testosterone, he asked me if I was still planning on leaving my cervix in.

Um, yes?

He said that since I was leaving my cervix in, which is not commonly done during a laparoscopic hysterectomy, he wanted me to meet with another surgeon who was a minimally invasive specialist, as he wanted her there during the procedure.

I called to book an appointment with this additional surgeon and she was booked out for almost two months. So I had to wait another two months to talk to this person in mid-February 2022.

At this point, I was beyond frustrated with this entire process. My surgeon knew in August 2021 that I intended to leave my cervix in. Why did he wait until December to ask me to meet with another surgeon about my cervix?

So while I thought I would be waiting to hear about scheduling, now I was just waiting to talk to this minimally invasive specialist surgeon for weeks on end, which was incredibly frustrating. Meanwhile, I was becoming increasingly aware of my dysphoria every time I had my period, and I would be massively depressed even if I wasn’t in much pain.

I finally did talk to her and I really liked her. The appointment also put me at ease because, unlike the other two surgeons I had spoken to, she told me that if I wanted to leave my cervix in, it was completely fine. I was at low risk for cervical cancer, and as long as they didn’t find endometriosis all over my cervix when they opened me up, I could leave it in without problems.

I was very aware of the risks and benefits of leaving my cervix in, and we reviewed them during my appointment. I did learn, however, that keeping my cervix in would be less trauma to my body than taking it out. It also would cut my recovery time in half and it even eliminated the risk for vaginal cuff dehiscence, (if you don’t know what this is, have fun looking it up).

At the end of the appointment, she shared she would get back in touch with my original surgeon, as they would be doing the procedure together. I told her I would follow up with him too about the next steps.

FINALLY, A SURGERY DATE!

Another two weeks went by before I got a call from the hospital to schedule my surgery—the surgery date was April 7, 2022. I was beyond excited and spent the next few days skipping around and talking to anyone who would listen about my surgery (it was just my husband, haha).

It took 15 months from the time I booked that first OB/GYN appointment to get an official surgery date. I’m not sure how much of this was related to doctors being booked out because of COVID, but I do know that I worked my hardest to make this surgery happen as soon as possible.

This article can’t possibly capture the pain, depression, and dread I have experienced throughout 20 years of having a period and then going through a process to try and get help and having to wait almost a year and a half before I could get the problem taken care of. But I’m sharing my experience for others who might be on this journey.

As I’m posting this article I no longer have a uterus and am recovering from my supracervical laparoscopic hysterectomy, which was finally approved by the insurance company and I successfully had my procedure.

The doctors did not find any endometrosis and my uterus was unusually small: 40 grams compared to the normal 60. So at this point I’m assuming my intense pain and heavy bleeding were all EDS-related.

I will be posting an article about my decision to leave my cervix in as well as my healing protocol for this procedure. Kisses!

Special thanks to Lin Amendt for helping me along this journey and for helping me make the pivotal decision to leave my cervix in. And of course to my amazing husband Ian for his unconditional love and support throughout this process and always (and for taking these badass pics).