I’ve never taken great care of my body. I don’t enjoy exercising. I eat vegetables, but mostly drenched in ranch dressing or melted cheese. I take multivitamins but also love a good glass of Cabernet. Until the age of 47, I took my health for granted, assuming my body would just keep on keeping on. Then the pain hit. A stabbing, burning feeling right in my gut — and no matter what I ate or didn’t eat, the pain remained.

“Until the age of 47, I took my health for granted, assuming my body would just keep on keeping on.”

I prepared myself for ulcers (like my sister) or colon cancer (like my brother). Mostly I just wanted an answer. A CT scan was ordered by my stomach doctor after a colonoscopy revealed only a few small polyps, nothing that would cause such intense pain.

He pointed to the cloudy masses on the scan, telling me it wasn’t my stomach that had issues.  It was my uterus. Massive uterine fibroids, so large you could barely see my other organs around them. Instantly it all made sense. The heavy periods. The bloating, He also told me they were so large they were probably pushing on my digestive organs and my bladder. He advised me to see my gynecologist right away and to take the CT scan with me.

My gynecologist confirmed the diagnosis after looking at the scan and performing a very painful exam. His suggestion was a hysterectomy. I asked if that would throw me into instant menopause. He asked if I was having hot flashes. Yes, I’d been having them for years. His response was to “just take it all out.” I cried.

I couldn’t explain to my husband why I was so overcome with emotion to the point of not being able to talk. Maybe it was the relief of knowing the pain would end or that I wouldn’t have periods so bad I sometimes missed work. Maybe it was the reality of aging, the fact that I was already having hot flashes and menopause was just around the corner. Maybe it was grief over removing my unused uterus. We chose to adopt our children and I’ve never been pregnant. It wasn’t really something I longed for, but the finality of removing all of my reproductive organs caused feelings I never thought I’d have. Most likely, it was a combination of all these feelings together.

“The finality of removing all of my reproductive organs caused feelings I never thought I’d have.”

The surgery went well, but tears of happiness came when the doctor said I could go home. I needed help with recovery and being in a hospital room all alone (thanks to COVID protocol) was messing with my anxiety over the whole thing. I kept wondering if I’d made the wrong decision.

I only took a week and a half off work, planning the surgery around the Thanksgiving holiday so I wouldn’t inconvenience my boss and colleague. The doctor suggested I take off at least four weeks, but I thought I knew better. I literally had a major system removed from my body but treated it like I had a common cold. I thought I would just keep on doing the things I’d always done and recover on the side.

My body proved me wrong. Flash to my first day back at work. About four hours in, I was hit with a wave of exhaustion that made me feel like I’d run a marathon. I told everyone at work I was going to have to work half days for a while, drove myself home, and slept for six hours straight.

The pain medication I’d been taking must have kept the headaches at bay for the first week but within ten minutes of changing my mandated estrogen patch, I felt a migraine coming on. My face and hands went numb. The light became too bright. Then the nausea hit. I called the doctor to tell them. The nurse suggested cutting the patch in half, so I did. When that didn’t help, I cut it down to a quarter. That didn’t help either. I took it off and let the hormone chips fall where they may.

“The shock to my system from the surgery combined with the sudden loss of all the hormones that ovaries produced sent my body into a traumatic response.”

The hot flashes hit like a freight train a few days later. My body and head ached. My skin itched. My hair fell out in clumps. The shock to my system from the surgery combined with the sudden loss of all the hormones that ovaries produced sent my body into a traumatic response. I was miserable and so confused. This wasn’t the easy answer I’d been led to believe.

After a week of “toughing it out,” I knew I had to have help with the hormone issue. I called the doctor’s office and told the nurse what was going on. She suggested estrogen gel, which promised to be better than the patch. I used the first dose that night, a blob the size of a blueberry rubbed into my thigh. I‘ve been on that dose ever since, afraid to change it or stop using it altogether after the harrowing aftereffects of my surgery set in. For years I’d been telling people that menopause was a natural experience and as women we should just let it happen. I had to eat my words. I was naïve as to how life-altering menopause, especially sudden menopause, really is.

“I was naïve as to how life-altering menopause, especially sudden menopause, really is.”

The other changes to my body gradually revealed themselves over the next few weeks. My fingernails started breaking. My hair continued to thin, not just in volume but the individual strands got skinnier too. My skin was still itching and uncomfortable, along with a noticeable sag. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. I looked old.

Even at my heaviest weight, I’ve always been curvy, with a defined waist. Instant menopause changed that too. The ten pounds I gained in two months all seemed to settle in my middle, and I now had a belly. My clothes were tight, and I felt uncomfortable, which didn’t help my decreased libido. What little sex drive I had after antidepressants was pretty much gone with the hysterectomy. I cried myself to sleep a lot of nights because everything about my body seemed to have suddenly changed and I didn’t know if I would ever feel like myself again.

After a few weeks of being mad at the world (and myself for agreeing to the surgery), I decided to concentrate on the things I could control and/or change. I couldn’t go back in time to do more research before making the decision, but I could do research now to find ways to feel like myself again.

“I couldn’t go back in time to do more research before making the decision, but I could do research now to find ways to feel like myself again.”

Trying to solve everything all at once was too overwhelming so I broke it down into pieces. I found lotions that help with itchy, saggy, crepey skin. I found shampoos that made my hair feel fuller. I found products to help with intimacy — and had several conversations with my husband about the changes and what I was feeling, too.

In my research, I also discovered that one of the reasons for weight gain and the changes in fat distribution in the body with menopause is a lack of muscle. I’d never done strength training or worried about how much protein I was consuming, but becoming attuned to my muscle mass made a huge difference. I now ride a stationary bike a few times a week while doing arm exercises with hand weights. I also do a form of yoga and stretching while playing relaxing music on my TV. I move with no real guidance or plan. I just move. I call it “pushing the pain out” and have noticed that my body is less stiff and uncomfortable for days afterward.

Exercising has also helped with my balance. Since my hysterectomy, I’ve fallen off my porch twice and tripped more times than I can remember. I’m always bumping into cabinets and corners and then wondering days later, “Where did that bruise come from?” Suddenly becoming clumsy was something else I wasn’t prepared for.

The whole experience has taught me an awareness of my body and its functions I’d never had before. I appreciate all that my body does more than ever. It’s the only one I have, and I have to keep taking care of it. Yes, it requires more effort to take a few supplements, use lotion, plan meals, and schedule time for rest and exercise, but it’s worth it to discover what works for me, and makes me feel better and more like myself.

“I appreciate all that my body does more than ever. It’s the only one I have, and I have to keep taking care of it.”

I’m still angry that I had to do most of the research on my own, that my doctor didn’t tell me what instant menopause was really like. But I am also seeing a change in the global discussion of menopause, grateful the information I needed was out there for me to find. It’s becoming okay to talk about it. As with most things in life, we have to find what works for us and speak up when things don’t.

Other than basic anatomy learned in middle school, I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t really understand some of my body functions … until they didn’t function anymore. Of all the things we are taught in school, why weren’t we taught more about our bodies and how to keep them healthy? They’re literally the vehicles that carry around our minds and souls, but we don’t acknowledge their importance until they stop working. We take them for granted and get angry with them when they don’t work properly.

“The hysterectomy and instant changes from menopause forced me to slow down and learn how to take care of myself.”

The hysterectomy and instant changes from menopause forced me to slow down and learn how to take care of myself. Now I see food as fuel. I view rest as necessary; a preparation for doing things, not as a reward for hard work that’s only available if I really earn it. I still don’t love exercise, but I do enjoy not aching and know that moving my body helps me feel better.

I owe my body an apology. I neglected it for years. Now at 51, I’m more mindful of how I treat myself and ready to continue learning ways to be healthier and feel better for the rest of my life.

Regina McKay is the wife of a firefighter, mother of five adult children, and passionate advocate of all things vintage, especially her pink bathtub. She works as an accountant but plans on using her experiences with mental health treatment to transition into a career in Criminal Justice/Mental Health reform. After hitting her rock bottom, she learned for her happiness didn’t come in a pill bottle. She now strives for contentment and appreciates moments of joy when they come.