Remove ovaries after menopause
The diagnosis is to remove ovaries. How do you feel after the operation, what happens in the body? What does the soul tell us and what happens next?
Here is an experience report.
Remove ovaries: After the surgery
I woke up and amazingly quickly I realised where I was and what it was all about. Only a few minutes had passed since the ovarian surgery, the anaesthetist had prepared me for it. My first sentence followed my first thought ‘Do I have one ovary left?’ No, both had been removed.
Emptiness. Sadness. And then the question ‘Why?’ The second ovary was only to be removed if the ‘thing’ on the first was not a teratoma, but a tumour that can expand in its territory and reach everywhere like an octopus. That was how we had agreed on the operation of the ovarieswith the doctors. (The octopus thing is mine). Allow the creeping fear of the formless, invisible, unpredictable?
The first night after the operation was sleepless – at least it felt that way. The pain of the wounds was hardly more piercing than that of the grief for my ovaries. The unpleasant thing was rather the paralysis to which I was condemned. The needle on the back of my left hand connected me to a plastic bottle above me, which was probably meant to infuse me with good things. Smaller plastic bottles hung on the edge of the bed and emptied me. A tube led into my stomach via a small hole on the left side. Rinsing fluid from the operation, mixed with blood, I was told. Another tube led to the container on the right side of my bed, with yellow liquid. I tried to imagine where the tube went, but didn’t dare move, let alone tense any muscles. The pressure felt on the bladder was unfounded, the night nurse said, as it all drained automatically into the small bottle. It was unclear to me whether the discomfort, despite her rebuke, was the pressure on the bladder or the body was still tracing the ovaries, because it was all very close together. In any case, it was a real feeling of happiness the next morning when I at least got rid of this yellow extension and could take the first steps to the bathroom.
That same day, I also got rid of the plastic bottle above me and got into the diet 1 category: yoghurt and rusks. There you slowly come to life again! With this new-found freedom, the next night was also more peaceful and from then on the recovery only went steeply uphill!
Pictures: Parco delle Gole della Breggia, Ticino, Switzerland
The time of recovery of the ovaries that are no longer there
After the third night I could go home, almost live a normal life. The abdomen felt bloated, which is supposed to be normal after an operation. I had three small scars with three or four stitches each and the tube hole that slowly grew shut on its own. Inside, too, it seemed to be pretty quiet. A week later, when I was helping a friend move (carrying only pillows and the light bags up and down the stairs), a slight twinge told me that enough was enough.
This belly, which once gave birth to new life, now wanted all my attention, affection, tender care again. The more time goes by, the tinier the prick becomes when enough is enough.
“Sexual intercourse is possible immediately” was written in the hospital’s discharge letter… which was a bit perplexing. Technically, the vagina was not affected, in fact. I guess they were talking about the act of procreation.
Even two weeks after the operation, I sometimes feel a slight twinge in the ovaries that are no longer there. But it’s probably the scars that heal.
Remove ovaries – and now the uterus?
Twelve days after the operation, I was feeling fit to resume yoga soon and finally dive into the lake in this summer heat (June 2022, 30-35 degrees Celsius) when the call came from the gynaecologist. The ‘thing’ had been found to be a borderline tumour in the biopsy. Now it finally had a name.
Not good, not bad, walking a tightrope. It had been munificent – slime-forming. What am I supposed to imagine? And there were traces of tiny atypical cells swimming around in the fluids in my stomach. Leave me alone, I want to swim in the lake too!
But I am no longer alone. Must bow to medicine. Or rather, to put an end to the atomic self-destruction of my body.
As a preventive measure, the uterus, appendix and the lymphatic network in the abdomen (omentum) are to be removed. As soon as possible, the doctor said.
I’m taking two weeks off before the next operation. Living life. Consciously savour every moment. Before I wake up again and wonder where I am, what it’s all about.
Life without ovaries after the menopause
Dear ladies, removing both ovaries after the menopause has not changed anything in my life and feelings so far. On the contrary, I even feel stronger, because I know I am more than the sum of my hormones. The energy that the body used to spend on the ovaries is now diverted to the other important organs: heart, brain and liver. I feel strengthened in my personality and find myself blossoming.
What is the cause of the disease?
The question remains: Why? I am very well accompanied by friends, family and especially for this question also by a professional. She helps me to ask myself the right questions and to feel inside myself to get to the bottom of this why. Body, mind and soul are closely connected. This tumour has been growing for a long time and it is not a result of coincidence. With which aspect of my being is it connected, which is the trigger and how can this aspect and thus the soul be healed at the same time as the body healing?
Holistic approaches can lead to finding the cause of the disease, such as traditional Chinese medicine or holistic medicine such as Dr. Dahlke. When our body is in the hands of traditional medicine, the soul needs alternative healing. This can be done classically by psychologists or based on ancient knowledge such as energetic healing, abdominal massages, shamanic journeys, hypnosis, meditation…
My personal injuries of the soul run deep. I am convinced that thanks to the regular practice of yoga, the breathing and meditation exercises over the last few years, they will not stress the body too much and the final diagnosis after the next preventive surgery will not be cancer. A wonderful woman helps me to fully smooth the crevices of the soul that I would probably never have recognised as wounds without the ovarian tumour.
And yet the next stage is the removal of the uterus, appendix and lymphatic network. I don’t have the courage to rebel and say ‘I don’t need this, my soul is healing and with it my body’. Who am I against a group of women and men in white coats who have gathered in the tumour board (sic!) and recommend the next operation.
It’s surprising how many women in my environment no longer have a uterus, it was often removed in their 40s. All seem to lead a normal life as before, only women of reproductive age have to cope with no longer being able to have children. On the other hand, it is a bigger operation than to remove ovaries. What am I in for? How long will I be paralysed again, dependent on the support of others and have to scale down all activities?
I am confident, looking forward to life afterwards, because the first operation has strengthened me and I know I have wonderful people around me who will accompany me whatever may come.