Hurricanes &
Hysterectomies
“The Day My Uterus Died”
by Linda Carter
August 29, 2005
Ken holds my hand softly as we both
focus on the TV in the corner of the pre-op room. Hurricane Katrina is headed
for New Orleans
As we watch the coverage of the
storm, I feel a slow warmth move through my body. Only those who have
experienced the wonderful world of pre-op drugs can picture what happens next.
You kiss your husband and say I love
you, just in case.
Then the bed moves slowly down the
hall to surgery, the overhead lights at times blinding you as you drift into a
state of nirvana fueled by pharmaceuticals. It’s like God is giving you a
naughty pass.
My uterus had always been mean to
me, starting with horrendous cramps at age 13. The doctor my mother consulted
said this, “Well, she’ll just have to wait until she has children and the pain
should ease up.”
I found another route. I started
taking the Pill in college and my life changed dramatically. A lot of pain,
fear and hassle simply disappeared. Prescription Ibuprofen rounded out my
happiness.
Now, years later, I was facing a
hysterectomy. You see, those kids never materialized to “ease my pain.” Fibroid
after fibroid had cut my quality of life into ribbons. I found a talented
female surgeon with a good sense of humor and put myself in her hands.
I was drifting further away now, the
rolling bed turning a corner and leading me into a room filled with huge
lights. Visions of water and wind mix with a last glimpse of my man’s blue
eyes.
August 30, 2005
I blink slowly, adjusting my eyes to
the room around me. A sweet nurse brings me toast and something to drink. I ask
for the remote control, the news reporter in me refusing to rest.
The world has changed overnight and
I am watching a part of America
face destruction as the levees fail to hold and New Orleans
When I wake again, the nice nurse is
back, telling me I have been her best patient all night.
I beam with pride that I was able to
curl up around three nicely stuffed pillows under a warm blanket and not cause
any trouble. I felt so safe, cared for and comfortable, something New Orleans
At home, I recuperate in my bed with
two warm kitties close by. I watch hours
of news coverage of Hurricane Katrina and as God is my witness, I think this is
when I fell out of love with TV News.
Where was my country? Why had alarm
bells not sounded sooner? Why were there children without food in one of the
richest countries in the world? How did this happen?
I finally exhausted my ability to
consume any more news coverage and picked of all things “The Grapes of Wrath”
as a DVD distraction. I was quickly drawn into another time when America
During the Depression, families’
lost property, but the real cost to this country was much larger. People lost a
sense of place, pride, tradition and most of all, a sense of dignity.
Here is the scene that brings it all
home for me, whether I am watching the movie or reading the book.
Outside the Joad tent, a number of
children gather to smell the stew cooking over an open fire.
Ma Joad feeds her family first, then
instructs the kids to go find a stick so she can share this feast with them.
You see in her eyes the incredible sadness she feels in not being able to do
more. And you know in your heart, she is the one who went hungry that night.
Linda Carter © 2015
