Member-only story
It’s been two years since I had a hysterectomy and I still occasionally find a tampon or pad stuffed away in an old purse or the pocket of a rarely worn coat. I have donated most of my unused items, but the occasional surfacing of one that I overlooked always makes me pause.
I spent nearly 35 years practicing that habit, being prepared with tampons and/or pads. It hasn’t been hard to let go, once I realized there were no post-surgical complications. The liberation from having to buy and carry these items has been almost seamless. I embrace that freedom, that savings.
Perhaps the most annoying outcome of the surgery comes with folks trying to guess if I’m in menopause or not.
Feel warm? Hot flash.
Restless legs? Stomach ache? Fever? Chill? All menopause. It’s the same literal thing as telling me that all my pre-surgery symptoms were a womanly curse.
Why does a public absolutely squeamish about menstruation take such delight in assigning blame to our bleeding or lack thereof for everything? How do you diagnose me with a casual glance, then dismiss me to the pile of old women who aren’t going to benefit from actual healthcare? And all because of what you know about your Aunt Helen’s experience in 1986? Or what you read in a Facebook group?
