The road to recovery – Hysterectomy

I am a woman in my forties, have never had children, and now do have most of the reproductive organs required to produce children. Having suffered from stage 4, or deep infiltrative, endometriosis for most of my life, a hysterectomy was recommended as the only option to live a ‘normal’ life. However, despite having had the condition for a long time, I only became aware of it after a diagnostic laparoscopy in November 2020.

My history with endo is yet another story, but in summary, from the time they started, my periods were heavy. I used to be in chronic pain during periods, to the extent of being bedridden for the most part, being unable to engage in daily activities, and I was constantly worried about leaking and consequent embarrassment. All the GPs I consulted told me that these conditions were normal, until about two years ago, when a truly concerned GP decided that it was time some investigations were done. In July 2021, the end result of a lot of investigations was the hysterectomy.

Now, I am quite aware that a hysterectomy does not cure endometriosis, it just removes the painful symptoms, and am also aware that it may come back at some point. At least, then, the procedure will not be as extensive as the one I have just had.

I decided to write about my experiences following the hysterectomy for reasons explained shortly. Before I dive into those reasons, it must be said that every woman’s journey to get to the point of having a hysterectomy is different. I do not presume to know your journey, and what battles you have fought to get this far. For me, even though I had suffered every month for over 25 years, I had never imagined I would be here. Yes, there were times when I wished I did not have the uterus and was pain-free, but those were moments induced by extreme pain. Afterwards, I would forget about such thoughts and get on with life, until the next period came around.

But when I was informed by the lead surgeon last year November that a hysterectomy was the best option, it did make me feel very emotional. For me, it was more about not having children EVER, even though up to this point I had reconciled myself to the fact that children were never going to happen anyway.

Consequently, I would tell people that it was my way of saving an overpopulated world and that there were many children in the world who needed love and care, which I could provide. All these rationale arguments paled in comparison to what was staring me

in the face – a life-changing experience if I went through with the hysterectomy.

I also thought deeply about what it would mean for me as a woman. Child-bearer role aside, the reproductive organs were what made us women different from men. But as I delved deeper into these ideologies, I realised that my identity as a woman was not intertwined with organs inside my body. Being a woman meant so much more than that to me. It was in the way I thought, and felt, and expressed myself. It was in how I looked and dressed and related to others. And it was in the nurturing and caring that I could still provide, not only to children around the world, but the sick and lonely around me.

I realised that none of these things were possible if I continued to be in pain three weeks out of four (living with endo in the last two years got to this stage), and not knowing when I would be in so much pain that I would have to stay at home and let others down by not being where I had promised to be. Holding on to the uterus, and other organs infiltrated by endo, meant that I was limiting my life in so many ways. So, I decided to have it done.

The recovery at home has gone well for the most part, but it has been an exercise in patience, and why I am writing this. Prior to my operation, I had read lots about what to expect after the surgery and upon discharge. In some ways, what other women experienced have also been my experiences. In other ways, I found that no one had talked about these things – the practical things, and what the road to recovery really looks like, which motivated me to write.

From the first week post-op to week 4, for the most part, the journey felt like I was taking one step forward, then two backwards. I had not been prepared for this, and having discovered that recovery did not happen in a linear fashion, I imagined others going through similar procedures may benefit from reading about my experiences.

I have written down my experiences on a weekly basis for up to week 7 – each week has a title that best sums up that week. I have also given special attention on the first two days in hospital post-op, and added sections on the practical things, such as sleeping positions, changes in me post-op, etc. You may read the whole thing, or skip to the sections relevant to you using the contents table (revert to the contents table using the ‘Back’ arrow). I hope you find my experiences helpful in some way, even if your journey to the hysterectomy has been different from mine.

Love, Vikashni.

Now, that’s one heading I thought I would never write, but there I go – never say never!

The hysterectomy (and other surgical procedures) happened in July 2021 and it was a major surgery, which went on for just under 5 hours. There were 4 surgeons in the room – 3 gynaecological surgeons and a colorectal surgeon.

It was a week after the operation when I was finally able to read the surgery report. They found that my uterus, which had always been retroverted, had become enlarged almost the size of my face. There was growth within the uterus – something called adenomyosis. And it had grown heavy and had attached itself to the bowel. It is no

wonder I was in so much pain all the time, especially after eating and going to the toilet. The left ovary was tucked underneath the uterus. This ovary, both fallopian tubes, the bowel area (rectum), and cervix – all these organs had endometriosis growth and consequently were also stuck to each other (adhesions).

So, the procedure was to delicately strip away, bit by bit, the uterus from the bowel first, which took the first two hours and a bit. Then they removed endometriosis from the rectum, removed adhesions from the vaginal wall and then proceeded with the hysterectomy – uterus, fallopian tubes, cervix and left ovary were taken out. A lot of work, done by a team of highly specialised surgeons.

I was in the post-operative recovery area for over 2 hours, then moved to the recovery ward. Only when I heard my husband’s voice, I forced myself to wake up so I could see him. I was in hospital for three days and two nights.

Having been out for over 2 hours, I missed the post-op briefing with my surgeons and it was no biggie because they came to see me the next day. When I came to, I felt intense pain and called out to the nurse, who came to my rescue and gave me some immediate pain relief. At some point afterwards, I was moved to the ward – I remember only bits and pieces of this: the motions of being moved and voices around me telling me where I was going, etc. I was ‘plugged to’ a number of things – 8 in total! Oxygen tubes under my nose, the IV line connected to water and another tube in the same IV line in my arm connected to the PCA machine (patient controlled pain dispenser), a drain on my left side connected to a tube that ran inside one of the incision sites on my belly, each leg in a strip that was connected to a machine which caused contractions on my calves to prevent blood clots, a catheter tube attached to a urine drain on the right side, heart rate monitor connected to the right hand pointer finger, and the blood pressure machine attached to my right arm. Of course, when I woke up in recovery, I did not realise that I was

connected to these things but became aware of these the next day. I felt wired and tied to the bed.

I happened to ask the nurse at some point during the first night if I could get up and go to the bathroom, and he asked me why. I replied that I needed to pee, and he laughed a little, and told me I had peeing since post-op and showed me the catheter. It took a while to register, and I asked him – “So, should I just go?”, which amused him further and he replied that I should, just, go! I did not wet the bed, but rather, the catheter did its job :).

I had all I needed for those first 12 to 18 hours post-op. And there was a call bell if I happened to need anything. The nurses checked on my vitals throughout the night. And the pain was managed by me, through the PCA. I slept as much as I could, despite the constant check-in by the nurses.

I had thrown up at least twice during a previous general anaesthesia induced procedure (a diagnostic laparoscopy) and did not wish the same to happen again. During pre-op consult, the nausea issue was discussed, and the anaesthetic doctor also said that the last thing they wanted after a complicated procedure like mine was for me to empty my insides and further strain the already strained organs. Thus, they gave me lots of anti-nausea post op and I was vomit-free all the way.

My surgery took place in the afternoon, and I was in the ward by 9pm. The next morning, I did not feel hungry and when they removed all the tubes and machines and asked me to move about, I had to summon all my strength and do so. I got off the bed, could not stand, sat down, and tried again. Prior to my surgery, a friend of mine who is a nurse and who had also had a hysterectomy had advised me to build up physical strength. I normally exercise 5 days a week, mainly HIIT, which I carried on as usual. But at least three months pre-op, I upped my strength training and started doing lots of weights. Body weights, dumbbells, lots of strength training.

I was able to lift my husband, who weighs 70kg. Initially I could lift him off the ground to my ankles, but towards the end of the three months, I could lift him up to my calves. I swear that this training helped me post-op, starting with the day after surgery. I used my leg muscles to heave myself up, just like how I used my leg muscles to squat and then lift my hubby.

It hurt to get out of bed and take those few steps around the ward and eventually the hospital corridor. But it had to be done and be done quite soon after the surgery. Left too long, I was told it may hurt all the more. I walked a bit further each time I got up. On that first day, I walked four times.

The first pee after catheter removal was difficult. Be patient with yourself when you go to the toilet and try to go by yourself if you are able to. My mum walked me to the toilet, but I went in by myself and having been through it before (a laparoscopy last year), I knew what to expect. The pee will come, but it will take time. Sit there as long as you have to and don’t give up. For me, it helped to lift my feet while staying seated – getting on tiptoes so that my knees were slightly elevated above the toilet seat. The elevation speeded things up. You may need more elevation than that – use a chair and put your feet on the rungs of the chair for elevation. After the first go, it was still difficult, but not as difficult as the first time.

The appetite came back in a tiny way. I was able to have a piece of toast and some yoghurt. One of the surgeons came by again to check on how I was doing and after the conversation she thought that I was well enough to go home. The anaesthetic doctor also stopped by to check on me and told me about the layers of pain management and what pills to use to manage the pain, according to the pain level. On discharge, I was given 5 layers of pain management upon discharge, Oxynorm (a controlled drug, which is like morphine), being the highest layer. As the weeks went by, I moved down the layers of pain killers.

I did not shower at the hospital because, really, I had been clean pre-op, and had been in bed most of the day after the surgery. I did feel terribly cold though – the hospital gowns are not made of wool! It was important to keep warm.

Post-surgery chills are a real thing, and if not managed, can lead to serious things, like pneumonia. Stay vigilant, keep warm. You are not imagining it. Hubby had brought a change of clothes, he helped me get into them and I came home. I showered when I got home.

The first day back home, I did not even think of doing anything else except having a shower, having some food, taking the meds, and resting. I did nothing else. I felt awfully tired and enjoyed sleeping in my own bed. I don’t remember much else about this day. The highlight was getting out of the hospital, coming home, showering, eating, and at some point I fell asleep, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. I woke up, had some food, and worked out the sleeping positions, and slept again until the next morning.

I got into a routine. Wake up, have my base layer pain medication (Paracetamol), have breakfast, even if it was just a piece of fruit and yoghurt, take the second layer of pain meds with food (Celacoxib, an anti-inflammatory) along with the laxative/stool softener drink, get cleaned/showered, rest. Nap. Wake up, have lunch with laxative drink, top up Paracetamol, nap again or read, have third layer of pain meds (Gabapentin, for nerve pain), dinner followed by fourth layer (Tramadol, an opioid), and right before sleeping, have the Oxynorm. If you are taking them, have the laxative medicine with breakfast and lunch.

I had visitors that first week, and I did try not to be polite but instead told them when I felt tired. I could not talk to visitors for more than 30 minutes. Believe it or not, they understood and left me alone!

I did not eat much this week and I did not die of starvation. I ate enough to give my body fuel for the most basic activities – going to the toilet, walking around the house, sitting up. I slept for more than 12 hours on a daily basis – not all at once but overnight sleep and naps combined. I found that I was drinking more water and fruit juice than I was eating. That was fine, it was what my body needed. I drank 100% fruit juice, no added sugar.

Freshly squeezed oranges, kiwi fruit and apple juice. I ate fresh pineapples for breakfast with yoghurt most days. According to my local nurse, who I saw days after getting back home from the hospital, the body needs a lot more Vitamin C to repair itself. I was unwittingly craving for Vitamin C way before I saw the nurse, and I am one who does not like apples, much less apple juice. But what she said made sense afterwards. I kept off the booze while on strong painkillers – at least 2 weeks. I also did not want to drink. The activity level this week was primarily getting in and out of bed, day loungers/beds, sofas and chairs, going to the bathroom, and moving slowly around the house or to the letterbox and back. We have stairs in the house, and I used them, but went up and down only once a day, using the rails and taking one step at a time, literally.

The lessons learnt this week were – the body needs as much rest as possible. Listening to the body is important. Don’t fight the body. Don’t overfeed it, nor underfeed it. Stay hydrated. Give it what it needs. Whatever you do, stay punctual with the meds and laxatives. If you have a reliable support person, ask them to manage your drugs for you. If alone, keep a chart (I got one from the hospital on discharge) so that you can self-manage your meds.

This week was tougher. I was off Oxynorm and was reducing the number of pain killers, mainly because I felt I did not need as many as the first week. There were days when I was pain free. Two days this week I survived on one dose of Paracetamol alone. And then the pain came back.

Now, I think, I was going off the meds too fast, while AT THE SAME TIME, ramping up my activity level. I walked up and down the stairs in our house too many times in one day, I walked further up the street without walking sticks the next day…little things that crept up on me and I felt fine while doing this ‘extra’ bit and thought I was already healing. I was healing, no doubt, but not at the faster rate that I had imagined. Even when I felt fine and pain-free, I should have stuck as much as possible to the routine of week one, with perhaps some less sleeping time during the day. Sitting up more, but still resting, and doing something light while sitting is the only type of ‘extra’ activity for week 2. It certainly was not walking more and climbing more steps and I learnt the hard way.

The incision sites were the most painful this week. Sharp pains, then a constant dull ache that hung around for five days. I also

experienced increased pain below my belly button, which is where the main incision site is, every time my bladder got full.

And then while emptying it, I felt pain. It was worrying, and I saw my GP, who did a urine test, which came back negative for infections. She also said that perhaps the bladder, when full, was touching on an area that was still sore from the op. The pain went away after day 3, which I spent back on the sofa, and being waited on hand and foot. And it crept back on day 5. The rest of this week was spent resting. Trying to do too much, too fast was not a great idea, in hindsight. I am someone who lacks patience. I wanted things to move fast, to recover quickly.

The body felt otherwise. I was running out of the Celacoxib and did not ask my GP to re-prescribe this. I did get Gabapentin and slow release Tramadol re-prescribed and after paracetamol these two were my next layers for pain. During this week, I also felt movements inside me. I was very scared of having a prolapse, which can happen after a hysterectomy. But the week went by, and my GP’s words rang true – the poor organs inside me that had been squashed up for so long finally had room to breathe…so they were falling into their new places!

When one has spent the best part of a month indoors, they get stir crazy, and more importantly, for food-lovers like me, they develop cravings that only food cooked by self can satisfy. So, having rested for the latter part of week 2, I convinced my carer, aka hubby, that I was able to cook on the stove-top. And I made one my favourites – a paella. Having had no pain after this little adventure, since I did all the prep in a sitting position and paella does not need a lot of stirring, I decided to venture out of the house for a very long walk, with hubby of course. Never alone.

Up to this point, all walks had been accompanied ones. We walked for over an hour, the last bit uphill, and I gave up three-quarters of the way home. Hubby had to leave me put, fetch our car, pick me up and then drive me home. But it was nice to have done the longest walk since the surgery.

I started spending more time in the kitchen when I could. Not bending, but now squatting if I needed to reach drawers which usually require bending. At this point I also started getting interested in a writing project – the beginnings of what I hope will be my second novel. So, when I was not in the kitchen, I was sitting and researching. This way, I got lots of rest. Pain medication wise, I was down to paracetamol in the morning, Gabapentin late

afternoon, and slow release Tramadol at night.

The bladder issue was slowly resolving and with each passing day, it was becoming difficult to remember that I had been through major surgery. There was only one day this week when I felt pain, and this was when I was walking from our home to our local village. Not a great distance walking wise, but the pain started without cause. Not unexpected, but it still dampened my spirits. I did rest more overall this week, despite the increase in activity level, and that was down to me being immersed in my writing research project.

My first outing was to visit my sister and her husband to celebrate two birthdays in the family. The car journey – 45 minutes each day – was a bit tiring and I should have taken a cushion for all the bumps in the road. Nonetheless, I rested while at her place, both before and after eating, and all was well.

The highlight of this week was that towards the end, I was able to do the basics of a Step-up challenge that hubby had introduced me to. We had invested in aerobic steps that came in three height levels – 10cm, 15cm, and 20cm. I was able to step up and down on the steps, using 15cm height, for three 20-second rounds. I was starting to feel like normal again.

Following the successes of week 3, I did the following: step-up challenge workout everyday for 4 days while increasing tempo per day, cooked lunch and dinner almost every day with some bending, used a blow dryer to dry and style my hair, walked without the help of walking sticks for three days, and reduced pain medication to Gabapentin only – sometimes only one dose (2 pills per dose) per day, sometimes two doses per day. I was feeling on top of the world, every day. At home, I have an adjustable-height desk in my office. I was able to stand and work at it for a few hours each day for the first 4 days this week. And, much like week 3, with each passing day, I was forgetting about the surgery, the post-op care, things I should and should not be doing…I caught myself bending down to empty the dishwasher one morning. The bladder issue appeared to have disappeared. I was making plans with friends of driving to see them. It was a pretty good feeling.

And then…you got it…I was caught off guard again! At this juncture, I must note that I had experienced no vaginal discharge right from the get-go. On the day of the surgery, there was some spotting, presumably from the laparoscopic procedure, but there was no blood discharge nor anything else, until…

On the morning of day 5 this week, I woke up feeling full of energy, having slept in my normal positions (on the sides) finally. Prior to this, I had been sleeping on my back only – see further notes in Sleeping Positions section. I went to the toilet and while flushing I noticed red spots on the toilet paper that was being whirled away. I had gotten used to not checking my underwear by now, because I had not bled at all since the surgery.

And so I looked and there it was – I had been bleeding, and by the looks of it, quite recently that morning. And then I remembered that the night before, hubby had accidentally but gently touched the main incision area and I had winced in pain and removed his hand. I touched that area again and it felt very sore and tender. Panic, panic, panic.

I called Healthline, and the advisor, having talked through my symptoms, told me to go the nearest medical centre. We went and within an hour we were sent off to the main hospital, with an acute admission form in hand. The consulting doctor at the medical center had surmised that I could have a vaginal hematoma. More panic. At the hospital, I was sent to an acute ward, where the IV line was quickly inserted and the whole process of getting me better again began. By this point, I was in severe pain as well. I was fortunate that one of the surgeons from my op was on-duty that day and she came to see me as soon as she had been informed I had been admitted to the hospital.

She explained that there would be a series of tests, including scans, to find out what was causing the bleeding and pain. I had a urine test, blood tests, and an internal physical examination by this surgeon, who concluded that there was internal bleeding and that a CT scan was needed.

By the time the CT scan was done, it was already 8pm and I was informed that I was to stay in hospital overnight. The whole day had gone, just like that.

I told the surgeon about my activity levels and the step-up exercises, which in her opinion could not have led to the predicament I found myself in. However, it was not reassuring. I did think that maybe I had been overdoing it. That night in the hospital was not great. They gave me a cocktail of drugs – to manage pain as well as to fight off any infections that may be there, and for the CT scan, I was injected with a solution, a dye, for the images to be clear. However, to do that, they had to put in another IV line. I am quite small and my veins are always difficult to find. The whole process of finding a big enough one and removing the other line had me crying in pain for a quarter of an hour, not to mention having pain reverberate all through my right arm when they, after injecting me with something, discovered that the line was faulty.

So, after being prodded and poked with needles and swabs and vaginal speculums, drugged up, and having not eaten all day, I was absolutely exhausted.

I woke up the next day feeling very dizzy and nauseous. The results from the CT scan came back and the consulting gynae doctor informed me that they had found no hematoma, nor any other fluid mass which would explain the bleeding and pain. There was no exact explanation, except to put it down to post-operative complications. However, such complications so late (week 4) in the game was unusual, but there was no other medical reason they could find. I was to go home at some point that day.

Happy with the news, I showered, called hubby, and then sat down to read a book I had taken. The nausea came back in leaps and bounds and I ended up head down in the toilet, throwing up my guts. There was not much in it, as I had not eaten much the day before. I think it was all the drugs and fluid floating to the surface. The nurse was cross at me after she learnt I had thrown up, and injected me with an anti-nausea drug that made me unconscious within minutes. I remember that hubby was on the phone after this injection, and according to him, my words were slurred and nonsensical. I know that I passed out.

And that was my experience on day 6, week 4. The pain I felt was slightly different from the pain during the first two weeks post-op. The former was sharp pain, starting from the belly button and radiating sideways and downwards to the vagina. This pain was unresolved by Gabapentin and only Tramadol helped.

The lesson here for me was that when the experts say healing takes 4 to 6 weeks, they know best. I was cocky in thinking that due to being physically fit I was healing at a faster rate. No such thing my friend. Yes, being fit helped me cope better with some things like getting in and out bed and moving around initially, but in no way did it help me recover faster.

I realised, as this week ended, that I had put myself back by a week in terms of total recovery time. What would have taken 6 weeks with the rest I was supposed to be having would now take 7 weeks. Week 4 was the week that set me back.

After returning from the hospital, I took it super easy. The first day of week 5 proved to be difficult. I took a walk with hubby and had little pain until late at night, when I started bleeding again. It felt like a period bleed – heavy and painful. Two pads got soaked in no time, there was blood when I passed urine…so much that inside the bowl all I could see was red. I started to pass clots as well.

I had not been expecting this, and yet, here I was, bleeding and in pain, yet again. We decided to go to the hospital the next day, as it was late at night and there was no point sitting awake in A&E all night, knowing full well that I would be seen by a doctor only in the morning. Sleep came easy that night, even though I was very troubled. Perhaps it was due to the exhaustion.

When I woke up the next day, I decided enough was enough. No more softly, softly. I was in Week 5 of recovery for heaven’s sake. By this time, I was supposed to be getting back to normal, not feeling the way I was feeling. I went and got the necessary tests done to make sure I was not in any emergency situation – bloods, urine, vitals, physical examination, none of which revealed anything concerning. For the second time around, no one could conclusively tell me what was going on in my body, and it was recommended to wait until my post-op consultation, which had been scheduled on the day of my surgery to happen at the end of week 7.

This recommendation of course came with the caveat that if things went south, I was to check myself into A&E again. By the time I left the doctors, I felt really sick to my stomach, and I was very sad as well as angry.

That is when I decided that enough was enough. If my body was behaving the way it was after all the rest, care and attention I had given it, a change in tact was necessary. So, that day, I did a simple aerobics exercise, and walked for half an hour, moderate speed, and set about doing the ordinary things in the house – emptying the dishwasher, cooking and bending to put pots in the oven, hanging washing on the line…I had had enough of ‘resting’ and being told to take it easy.

It was time to fight back. Every day this week, I went for longer and longer walks – each day’s walk surpassing the previous day’s. I did rest while on the walks – sit for 30 seconds, or slow down the pace when I felt lightheaded, but I carried on. In addition to the daily walks, I did 20 minutes of light aerobics, sometimes with light hand weights (1kg in each hand). This week the appetite disappeared again, and perhaps it was also down to the fact that nothing was staying in my body for more than an hour. I would eat, and soon enough, it would all come out. Constant diarrhoea became a real thing. I did not care. I was still in combat mode.

On day 5 this week, in addition to the walk, I danced. I love dancing, having been a professional in my younger days. For 30 minutes, I danced like I would ordinarily, but making sure I was not overdoing it at the same time.

I was pain free all week, and more importantly, there was no bleeding after that first day. Normality settled in – I was out and about, doing the things I loved in and out of the house. I could clean my kitchen again…woohoo! I could dance, and go out for drinks with hubby and some of my friends.

There multiple lessons learnt this week. I believe that the bleeding and clots were indeed part of my period, which may sound weird, but not unheard of. As I had surmised earlier in week 4, I had experienced period-like symptoms – bloating, crankiness, water retention, sudden weight gain. And so, perhaps there was some blood to be shed. I don’t know for sure, but I made a note to discuss this with my surgeon in Week 7. Hubby’s theory was that the bleeding was the body’s way of getting rid of any post-operative clots that may have formed, which may also have been associated with the tenderness and pain I had felt around my belly button. I did not rule this theory out. It may indeed have been a case of getting the ‘leftovers’ out of my body. And finally, perhaps it was my body’s way of saying “Can you please stop resting and get back to living?”.

Perhaps I needed that push, that anger and sadness from the heavy bleeding to set me back on track. Fighting back was working. I felt great for the remainder of this week, which ended on a high. My weight had returned to the pre-op weight. I was happy.

Being out and about felt great. I started walking longer distances at a faster pace. I started making plans with my friends for night outs in the city, mapping out hiking trails to conquer with hubby, and generally looking forward to resuming life as usual. Unfortunately, by the second day in week 6, NZ went into a strict lockdown so the possibility of social interactions and adventure disappeared from my line of vision. Sigh…I was bummed of course. Especially as I had spent the last 5 weeks getting better so that I could resume my life. But one has to go with the flow of life.

I thought I would combine both weeks 6 & 7 here because really, in terms of ‘getting better’, there were not many differences between the two weeks. Normal activities were creeping in all of week 6, with the exception of HIIT workouts. I was itching to get back to them, but I decided to err on the side of caution. So, the long walks continued, and I scaled a few small hills. In week 6, the biggest highlights were that I was able to ride my bike again…YAY!, and I was able to drive short distances…double YAY!!

With the bike, I kept on flat plains, avoiding hills, etc. so as ease my body back into the motions slowly without overdoing it. There was no pain after the bike ride, which was encouraging. Driving was a walk in the park. I was holding out from starting anything strenuous until the consult with my surgeon, which had been booked for Week 7.

During this consultation, which of course took place over the phone, I asked my surgeon about the bleeding and painful episodes in Week 4. She explained that usually patients experienced what I went through in Week 2, so it was unusual. Haven’t I heard that before? But she reassured me that it had been nothing to be concerned about. Perhaps just a case of my body getting rid of any leftover fluid from the surgical incisions. The advice was to carry on with what I was doing, except to refrain from heavy lifting and sex for another two weeks (six weeks from the time of the bleeding in week 4).

So, in the end, why was I so worried? I had imagined that my impatience would have set my healing back by a week, maybe two. No such thing. I was ‘normal’ by week 6. In week 7, I started doing my HIIT workouts, and noticed that there were some limitations, such as I could not do planks and pushups as well as I could pre-surgery. But I was sure that over time, I would get back to my desired level of fitness.

Was the hysterectomy worth it? I think so. The pain I used to get pre-surgery has not resurfaced. According to my surgeon, chances of endo recurrence is between 10-30% after excision, and the chances are further reduced after the type of hysterectomy I had. I was advised to keep a ‘pain’ diary to note any cyclical pain, but in her expert opinion, the likelihood of me and endo meeting again were minimal. I am happy with that.