Hysterectomy!

Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy.

There. I said it. I have been dancing around the word for the past three months.

Operation.

Surgery.

Medical problem.

Those have all been answers I've given to various questions asked of me.

I am not been a person who keeps secrets. If it has happened to me you usually know about it. I have a few dirty secrets that involve surfers, wine, and foreign men, but generally if you ask I'll tell you. But, then came this surgery and suddenly I found myself dancing around what was happening to me.

My sister and I shuffled about the mall a few days after "the operation". I needed to get out of my apartment for practical reasons, new underwear had to be found as everything I owned rubbed and got caught up on my staples, and I needed a mental health quickie, I couldn't stare at the same four wall one more day without throwing a plate through my apartment window. To avoid a dramatic and costly over-reaction to confinement we headed to a nice covered mall that offered underwear and diversion.

First stop was Starbucks. I was overdue for a London Fog. And Treesa need a Chai latte. We are both much nicer people when we feed our vices. A little popcorn from Kernels helped as well.

Then we made our way to pick up underwear. That was about all the excitement I could imagine surviving on my first outing.

I shuffled along found some suitably ugly but comfortable underwear and then made for the car. Between me and the car was a Mac cosmetic store. The combination of exhaustion and the loss of my uterus that caused an undeniable urge to own a new lipstick. A good lipstick and a nice pair of shoes can always cheer me up. A new handbag can help as well.

Treesa stood by and offered her critique of the various shades of retail therapy.

Too pink.

Too purple.

Too dark.

Makes you look yellow.

I settled on "not bad". It was all I hoped for given the circumstance.

The sales attendant wasn't sure what to make of us. Treesa and I are quite content conversing in sarcasm, but it scares other people.

I don't… But… Well… If you're sure. The clerk uncomfortably responded to our sister patter.

At one point I turned to quickly and laughed too hard. Pain caused what little colour I had drain from my face. Treesa quickly responded with an arm and a chair.

I just had abdominal surgery, I told the worried looking clerk.

Oh. I had my appendix out last year. She smiles.

I thanked her for her help and Treesa got out my bank card and paid for my purchase. It is a comfort to have a sister so close she can use your bank card without asking you for your pin code.

With lipstick, popcorn and underwear in hand, we slowly made our way to the car.

Abdominal surgery? Treesa asks.

I know. I couldn't think of what to say. I shrug.

So now I am practicing saying it. Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy. Hysterectomy.

I do say, all this honesty is giving me the vapours.