#002: Why I Had a Total Hysterectomy at 34 The Brutal Uterus Show

Trigger Warning - Mention of Pregnancy





Full Show Notes



I didn’t realize when I started writing this episode that I would have to trigger myself three different ways to get the whole story out.



Because surviving my uterus meant many terrifying nights in the hospital. From the way I found out I had endometriosis, to a scary surprise pregnancy with complications, and a total hysterectomy in the middle of a pandemic.



Surviving your uterus looks different for everyone.



For me, it meant digging that thing out and tossing it in the trash. (Which is medically known as a total hysterectomy.)



Hey I’m Natasha and my uterus tried to kill me so I decided to kill it first. Now I’m sharing my experience to help other people learn how to survive their uterus.



Now before you come at me, I’m not advocating that everyone go out and get a total hysterectomy.



There are plenty of ways to survive the myriad of issues that being born with a uterus entails that don’t have to end with ripping the thing out and dancing on its metaphorical grave.



There are just as many reasons to have one as well, from chronic illness to cancer risk to life-affirming salvation.



For me the decision was simple.



I had endometriosis, which causes painful lesions made up of the same cells that your uterus sheds every month to grow outside of the uterus.



I was in constant, debilitating pain in between periods and I was bedridden for 5 days a month, every month.



But I didn’t always have a name for the pain that had chased me through the years.



The Endometriosis Diagnosis



First, let’s go back to 2016.



I was laying on the couch with my heating pad, as one does when they try to pretend that much pain is normal.



I turned over and felt like I had been stabbed in the stomach.



I couldn’t move.



I couldn’t speak in full sentences to explain what had happened.



That it felt like a laser beam was carving a hole in my abdomen.



Or like being stabbed by a white hot knitting needle that stayed in and stayed hot.



All I knew was that



I knew I had to get to the hospital.



My best friend and future husband got me to the local ER, but we’re in a tiny community so they sent me off to a larger hospital about an hour away. I didn’t have any insurance at the time, so I declined the expensive ambulance ride and felt every imperfection in our worn Missouri roads on the longest ride of my life.



A few months prior, I had lost two friends within two weeks of each other to cancer.



And I hadn’t been to the doctor in years, even though I knew I was at high risk for cervical cancer thanks to HPV.



I was a single mom struggling to launch a web design business and moonlighting at McDonalds.



I would have gone to the doctor if I could’ve afforded it.



At that point, I was certain that they were going to run their tests and that I was going to die.



Because I truly felt like I was dying.



When I got to the bigger hospital, I went through round 2 of explaining that my entire left side felt like it was being eaten alive.



I even couldn’t pinpoint the pain. It all hurt.



My vague answers weren’t helping anyone, but I was in tears and in the fetal position and I couldn’t even begin to determine where the pain was coming from.



To make sure I wasn’t a drug seeker with a flair for the dramatic, they decided to keep me overnight and run tests.



So I spent one very scary, very painful night in the hospital.



At this point, I’ve forgotten most of this traumatic night.



All of my memories of it have a blurry film of fear over it. My brain trying to save me from the trauma no doubt.



They took scans and ultrasounds, but no one could or would tell me anything.



The next morning they took me to surgery.



I made it through recovery and finally the doctor came in to tell me what was happening inside my body.



Stage 4 Endometriosis.



I had never even heard of it.



The doctor explai