Surgical Rites of Passage

Off the top of my head I can tell you the year in which I got my first period and how old I was. If I were to go hunting through my old diary of that year, I could even tell you the date. It’s important to me because it was a rite of passage. Even though I was still a child emotionally, technically it meant I was a woman and could have children of my own.

I can also tell you the date my last period started. It was 21 July 2013. That should mean I’ve been menopausal for some months now. Not so. You see, it never stopped. Since September 2013, I’ve been on hormones, had a Mirena, been on more hormones and been on antibiotics. None of them, however, could stop the bleeding for more than a couple of weeks. At the beginning of this year I went four weeks without a bleed and began to feel optimistic that it was all over. And then it came back.

So, on 7 May I had a hysterectomy. I didn’t just have my uterus out, however; I also had my ovaries and fallopian tubes removed. There was no medical reason for that choice. I chose that option for peace of mind. My mother was in a very low risk group for ovarian cancer and got it. Ovarian cancer is insidious. For the most part, diagnosis occurs at the advanced stage so the mortality rate is high. Some women are “lucky” in that they have pain or bleeding that allows an earlier diagnosis but my mum wasn’t one of them. It was more likely that I wouldn’t get it but I wanted to remove the risk.

That means I’m now in “surgical menopause”. One day I was peri-menopausal. I was put under general anaesthetic and, a few hours later, I was menopausal. No slow petering out of the ovaries for me. No last period, no counting down of months to officially mark the occasion. I’m here already. Of course, if I’d only had my uterus removed, I’d be in a similar position but my ovaries would lead me slowly into menopause. I haven’t slowly glided into it; I’ve crashed headlong.

And so, I’ve been through another rite of passage. My childbearing years are over and I’m menopausal and it all happened in a few short hours. This time it was done surgically. I can tell you the date, how old I was and even give you an approximate time.

I like things clear-cut and am not good at going with the flow. I wonder if any of us who suffer from anxiety are good at it. Consequently, I’m glad it’s done and dusted. I know I have a can of worms waiting to be opened and that it may be a rough ride. Nevertheless, I’m here on the other side now and that works for me.