#just a couple of autistic british men in their 30s

[dontbadgerme2233]

they would be either best friends or sworn enemies

[antiracistkaren]

Post Hysterectomy Thoughts

CW/TW: Mentions of eating disorder, surgery, suicide, sexual assault/rape of trans people

I am at home with my family--meaning, I can hear every cry my girls make, every short answer from Jon, and every minute that goes by that I'm not studying. I feel it all.

I was at Dylan's this weekend for the first couple of days. I just went into a room and really didn't come out except to use the bathroom and have small talk when I was too restless to stay upstairs. I ate Oreos whenever I wanted and eggs scrambled up by Dylan in the mornings. I had one cup of coffee while I was there.

I watched all of The Crown, and have that fullness of feeling caught up on something. I finished Becoming right before my surgery, which has also extinguished my desire to read in general. It was my "easy" read, while The People's History of the United States is dense and must be read slowly. It's hard to speed read through history. It takes time to digest. And then there's This Little Light of Mine about Fannie Lou Hammer. Another dense biography with close writing and thick pages. I know the outcome of this one is not nearly as bright as Mrs. Obama's, so I am loathe to really get into it. However, I know that once I get going, I am able to polish off books rather quickly. It just takes me time to reach the halfway point--which is usually where I start to get invested in the rest of the book. I always have to fight to get to that "halfway" mark, where I bend the book and it no longer wants to snap shut on my hands, but falls beautifully open, having been appropriately used and doted on enough to break the spine.

So I just let my eyes enjoy some historical fiction. The quiet dialogue of The Crown would help me drift off the sleep when I became tired from my medication, and would be there when I woke with gentle British accents and sweet "arguments" occurring on screen.

It's hard watching Diana's eating disorder. It is not something that I personally struggle with--bulimia, but I do strictly control what I eat and when. You can always tell when I am super stressed out because I simply stop eating because I am too nervous or overwhelmed. The times when I have dropped weight suddenly are times in my life when I was at my worst, emotionally and relationally.

So I understand the Bulimia, the desire to have control at least, over what goes in and out your body. Especially when you have no control over how your mind feels, how your emotions are responded to, and even your every day movements are stilled and controlled. Post-surgery is a box, but it is one I do not mind inhabiting at the moment, because I know that once I emerge from this particular box, I will be free of cyclical pain and will be free to live as a man does: without concern or thought to when my period is coming and when I will be in pain.

Although it may sound small to most people... or to men especially, it is hard to describe the depth of thought and concern one's period brings. You hear about it a lot as a kid growing toward puberty, and then comparing severity among your peers becomes normal. Women talk about their periods to each other all the time: ways to avoid it, to skip it, to make it lighter, shorter, less painful. We use all of the strategies and tricks to attempt to act "normally" like a man does while we are mercilessly bleeding from a major organ.

It's really strange: how we treat women and their periods. Something that afflicts over half of the population on a roughly a monthly basis, and we're not even allowed to discuss it.

I want to talk about something that happened the day before my surgery, which still has me stewing and fuming a bit, and that was a Pregnancy Test.

I have not been sexually active with Jon in a way that would produce a baby since June. June, y'all. I know my life and I know my marriage, and we are hanging on by a thread, but I know this fact: I am not pregnant. I have gotten my period, often and heavily.

However, thanks to Texas state law, prior to my hysterectomy I had to prove that I'm not pregnant.

Basically, the law prevented me from "lying." And I can't help but think about... well, "what if?"

What if, after having three children and taking every single precaution I could, I was pregnant? It means I would either have to cross state lines to get an abortion and then have a hysterectomy, or carry that unwanted baby to term, furthering the pain and trauma on my body.

My body has been through enough at this point, y'all. That's what I was in the office to get this organ removed. Pregnancy is literally toxic to my body. Getting rid of my uterus was the last recourse I had, since birth control makes me suicidal and absolutely bonkers prior to my period. I'm not talking about PMS, I'm talking heavy mood swings that put me into suicidally sad places. I'm talking fits of rage that felt like explosions from my body. In short, birth control really aggravates by ability to manage my emotions at all levels. Which means, as an autistic woman that struggles to manage emotions anyway, I was absolutely psychopathic. I would come out from the fog and look backwards and see how irrational I was, how irritated I was. I found myself apologizing every few weeks for having huge breakdowns emotionally, physically around ovulation and then again around my period.

So I am telling the nurse that there is no way that I can be pregnant, and I'm mostly shrugging this off, but it really bothers me when I get to the paperwork: I must either consent to have this test, or risk not having the surgery if I won't take it. Classic catch-22: submit in order to get the thing I need to have a better quality of life, or stand up for my rights as a woman and risk being denied this surgery.

So I submitted, with great resentment. I stood up after my blood draws and asked if I needed to pee on a stick, and that I could leave a sample. The nurse informed me that no, they would run a blood test.

A blood test. Something far more accurate, detailed, and expensive. I am lucky enough to have hit my deductible, and so I will not personally pay for this bloodwork and this pregnancy test, but if I didn't have health insurance, I would have been required to do something because of my gender, and then been required to pay for it myself.

That's fucked up, y'all. Never mind that I was taking birth control. Never mind that my husband and I are basically abstinent right now. Never mind that I have three children already and if I don't want to have another one, that should be my RIGHT as a human being, I was required to take a test AND pay for it at the same time.

Smacked by two laws: one in which I do not have the right to free healthcare and pregnancy tests, and one in which I do not have the right to evacuate a toxic organ if it happens to house a mass of cells (because I just had my period, there's literally... no way that it could have been more than a mass of cells that that point), because my husband happened to catch an egg right before my procedure?

I was heartsick thinking about it. The amount of women who may try their best to get away from an endless cycle of pain or pregnancy being turned away because they caught an egg this month. Pregnancy is like being in prison for some of us. It is toxic to my body: I would get gestational diabetes without fail. That's my body telling me something: This isn't healthy for you. And yet I did it three times.

And I don't get to say when it's over without taking a test? Without proving to the medical community, to law-makers, that I am not pregnant?

What is the reasoning here? Do we somehow believe that women will, knowingly pregnant, go in for a hysterectomy? Really?

It's three days later, I still cannot get over it. I also think about Trans people, who want to have their uterus removed and are denied if they are under 30. That leaves Trans people open for getting pregnant via rape: trans people are far more likely to be sexually assaulted and raped (Source). If we refuse to allow trans people to remove their own uteruses when they deem fit, we are damning them to having to take hormones to suppress ovulation, or other chemicals that will fundamentally alter their mental state for the worse.

This isn't about oh poor suburban me--I am LUCKY I can do this. Luckily, I'm not pregnant. Luckily, we have paid out of pocket all damn year and got this surgery for free. It makes me angry that I have to feel like this is a damn gift that I got--this major abdominal surgery is a privilege that many do not have, simply because they are not a white, suburban mother whose husband has decent (not great!) healthcare through his employer.

I'm thinking about all of the women under 30 with endometriosis, cysts on their ovaries, and other conditions that make having this monthly cycle a NIGHTMARE. I'm thinking about trans people who want desperately to evacuate an organ that does not feel like part of their bodies. I'm thinking about homeless women who want to be rid of their pain on a monthly basis, who are just trying to survive and who have to make money just to be a part of society, to have money to buy sanitary supplies.

We are treating people with uteruses in this country as criminals if they want to alter their bodies. We have brought a Christian, white supremacist, doctrine into the patient/doctor relationship, and it is humiliating to women, especially those AFAB, and those women of color who cannot get access to this surgery at all.

It IS a gift, but I wish it weren't. I wish that women could take comfort in knowing that when they feel "done" with having children, they can choose to be done. Whenever they want. Empower women to take control over their own bodies and reproductive lives. You don't need to imprison us to make children--many of us want to, and will suffer in order to have children. But it shouldn't be forced on anyone simply because they have a uterus.