[Human] Stall Rest

Two of the most dreaded words in our world: Stall Rest. 

While Tilly lives her best life in her field with her Zena and her all-day hay buffet as the field slowly greens up with spring grass, I'm on a 6-8 week recovery timeline from surgery. 

This is a TMI and almost entirely non-horsey post, though I promise some Tilly updates will be coming soon as I'll have the downtime to write about upcoming adventures with the Tillykins.

As many uterus-having people do, I've suffered for most of my life and received several different diagnoses since I started seeking answers at age 20. Things have always been very Not Normal, but doctors threw a few big words out there and said I was really fine until I wanted to have kids, which would be hard or impossible, and in the meantime here's a pill now go on your merry way. I felt lucky I never wanted a future with tiny humans in it, and infuriated that this was just something I had to keep dealing with. 

I was 25 the first time a doctor outright said that I was a great candidate for a hysterectomy, though she finished the thought with "but you're too young and you're not married and your future husband might want children so we're not doing that," though I had explained that I have zero interest in children and even less of an interest in a husband or what his thoughts would be on children if I did get coerced into marriage at some point. 

Tilly thinks boys are dumb and the only baby I need is her.

Unable to get anywhere with that conversation, things continued to get worse over the years. I was diagnosed with a few different things including PCOS, and was told that this was just my normal. To eat less and move more. Stop eating bread and sugar. They also refused to run the right blood tests to accurately show the hormone levels that actually matter for a PCOS diagnosis. So, it's been fun. 

This past year has been a rough one for me with my health. I spend most of the month feeling like absolute shit physically, which also has a pretty significant effect on my mental health. Last spring I started seeing a hormone specialist who truly changed my life. She ran the right tests, had some very interesting findings, and we started figuring things out. While some things got better, others continued getting worse and at her recommendation, I went to a new OBGYN who told me "this is NOT normal, we ARE going to figure this out, and it is your body and your choice and if we decide surgery is the best way forward, I will absolutely help you get there." I openly sobbed when I heard those words. I think many of you can probably relate to what it meant to hear 'your body your choice' in November 2024. 

Love my friends' senses of humor, I love this. 

So the past few months have been a frenzy of doctors appointments, discussion of my options,  and pre-op appointments in between multiple work trips to Minneapolis and my general hectic schedule of doing a few barns a week and managing my own animals. For my surgical consult I ended up being referred to a minimally-invasive pelvic surgeon who specializes in endometriosis. After long conversations with him and my doctor, both of whom knew the right questions to ask about pain and discomfort (holy shit I really didn't know how much of what I'm feeling regularly is abnormal), they were betting I had endometriosis, something that I know a lot about in general but had never applied to myself and my symptoms, having been hung up on PCOS my whole adult life (which, by the way, I do not have). Surely the pain I was having wasn't *that* bad, like so many of the people I know who have been diagnosed with endo. 

My mom flew down last week, and accompanied me to the hospital to have a laparoscopic hysterectomy and salpingectomy. It went well, and I was home on my couch with my dogs by 2pm. Anesthesia is WEIRD, but my nurses and doctors were incredible. When the surgeon came by after I woke up and told me I was riddled with endo and my life should be greatly improved once I'm healed, I full-on sobbed. That was the single most validating statement I had ever heard in my life. Shoutout to nurse Rachel for being the kindest and most comforting human and for wiping my tears since I was still shivering with my arms wrapped up in my post-op heated blanket burrito. 

I'm NOT crazy, what I was experiencing was NOT normal, and holy shit, recovery from surgery is less painful than most 'normal days' for me during shark week(s). Things should be even better once I'm healed, and the relief I feel is palpable.  

Operation: Yeet the Uterus complete, this stuffy is the only uterus I need in my life moving forward.

I believe in women helping women and humans helping humans, especially in times like these. So apologies for this TMI and too-personal post, but horse women tend to be tough, and we grit our teeth and get through it. I gritted my teeth for 13 years while continuing to fight with my doctors for answers, and finally I got them. If you need any encouragement to not just grit your teeth and accept what doctors are telling you is normal when you're convinced it's not, I hope that you can find the strength to keep pushing and find the right doctors who WILL believe you and investigate. Knowledge is power, doctors are learning more about these issues that affect women and uterus-having-people, and there are more treatment options than just being put on a pill or given an IUD (which, by the way also have a pretty strong link to depression. Doctors tend to leave that out about IUDs). While a hysto is not the right answer for everyone, it was for me, and I'm incredibly grateful to have this behind me.

Book, kindle in case I don't like that book, coloring books and markers, and emotional support Fran.

I'm already bored and am a terrible stall rest patient. PLEASE give me ace or reserpine or something because I genuinely am going stir crazy. In reality, I was prescribed some stronger meds if I need them, but a regimen of tylenol and ibuprofin have been all that I've needed for the pain - it's my mental state that is struggling with downtime. Did you know that pretty much everything in my life involves lifting something? I can't feed my chickens or lift up my old lady dog or even groom Tilly without my innards shifting around feeling awful and like I'm going to pop a stitch. I also hate accepting help so the mental fuckery is real, needing my mom to do basic things for me. I'm pretty self-sufficient at least, but cleaning and pet management is going to be rough for a minute.

Zuzu is Very Concerned that I've not been taking her on walkies or to the farm.

The dogs are keeping me company on the couch, and when my mom leaves on Saturday, I have one of my best friends coming down from NJ to spend two weeks with me. She's been wanting to burn some time off and visit me anyway, and I'm incredibly grateful she's coming to be my handler (I told her to pack the ace and a shank). I'm especially grateful because my animals' lives won't be super interrupted by my stall rest. The dogs, chickens, and Tilly will be walked, loved, and pampered by their auntie, and you, oh blogosphere, might actually get some videos of Tilly while I sit in my chair and watch Marissa play with her for two weeks and record some sessions. Bonus: many of you know and love Marissa from the golden days of blogging, Tucker the Wunderkind. 

Pennifer Aniston is very pleased I seem to have given in to her couch princess ways. 

My mom drove me to the barn to see Tilly for a quick visit yesterday, and I already miss that giant baby. She is shaggy and needs her mane done and goat hairs trimmed from her face. But she is two (almost three) and downtime isn't a bad thing for her. Marissa will be here soon and I know she's itching to get her hands on that baby, and I'm constantly reminding myself that it's okay to accept help and that no one is going to hold it against me (I really do love my therapist and owe her a gift basket for all my unhinged texts. Apparently telling her 'drugs and dissociation' as the answer to how I plan to cope with post-op downtime told her I need daily text check-ins. Promise I'm fine and the menty health will recover along with my physical health). 

Mom with the Tilly. Thankful for barn friends who brought her in for me and didn't judge me when I had to sit down after attempting to groom her for a few minutes. 

To anyone who has struggled with their health and with doctors believing them, I see you. Perhaps a horse blog is a weird place to post this but whatever - it's a sport dominated by women and if this helps one person feel seen or heard, I'll feel like it was worth it. I also am not on any other socials at the moment so having a place to jot down my thoughts and share them feels good to my brain at the moment. Felt like sharing, might delete later kind of situation. 

I'm off work this week and hoping to dive back in next. Managing my downtime is a task, lemme tell ya, but I'm determined to enjoy my stall rest for a little bit and am sure I'll be raring to go with all sorts of fun horse things by May. If taking it easy is the hardest part of this experience, I will be grateful. 

Back to me next time, I deserve to be the center of attention obviously.