Words by Dani Vee
Two days after having a hysterectomy I knew something was wrong.
Five days after surgery, I was experiencing excruciating pain that was the equivalent to childbirth. I remember being buckled over the kitchen bench, sobbing for my partner to call my specialist.
My partner, who was already doing so much, including sitting me on the toilet and showering me because of the pain, called my surgeon. He told him, my pain was akin to labour pains, but instead of asking to see me, he told my partner the pain was normal, and that I should take Naprogesic to ease the pain and inflammation.
I’d never had a major surgery, so I took the medication and went to bed certain I must be overreacting, and that it was all in my head.
Three weeks later, my doctor called to inform me that they’d found cancer in my uterus. I was already in excruciating pain; my mental health was plummeting and now I had to see an oncologist. What I didn’t know, was this appointment was about to save my life.
My oncologist (who has been incredible) was certain that the cancer was small and had been removed during the hysterectomy. He would monitor me every 6 months and send me for a CT scan. To say I was fragile at this point was an understatement. All I could do in between appointments was cry on the lounge and watch Bridgerton. My weight and anxiety continued to plummet.
A day after the CT scan, the radiologist asked me to return. They had found something.
By this time, my partner had flown to Melbourne, my dad was interstate and my mum was overseas. I caught an Uber to the radiologist because I hadn’t been cleared to drive after major surgery. The doctor at the radiologist showed me the scan. My kidney was four times the size and I was immediately referred to a urologist. The doctor at the radiologist asked if I’d been in pain. I couldn’t stop crying. I felt validated.
The inflammation from the surgery had made the tube that carries fluid from the kidney to the bladder stop working. The urologist admitted me to hospital immediately. He inserted a stent and drained the fluid that was by now close to sepsis. Sepsis can cause death in a matter of hours.
When I woke from the procedure, my entire body was convulsing, which I’ve since learnt is a result of the infection being drained from my body.
Six months after the stent insertion, my kidney is still not functioning properly.
Twelve months after surgery, I’m still having CT scans, ultrasounds, tests and seeing multiple specialists, including ongoing sessions with a counsellor for debilitating anxiety – which I have since gotten under control.
We hear the narrative of women’s pain being ignored, of us being accused of hysteria, and overreacting and then being laughed at for diagnosing ourselves. I knew something was deeply wrong with me, but I had just gotten out of surgery, and I trusted my doctor.
Women have constantly been dismissed and ignored and told to live with whatever it is we are suffering. When I was considering a hysterectomy for ongoing issues and an iron level of 8 (ideally it should be above 50), my GP told me to reconsider my decision because I was currently menstruating and could therefore not make a proper decision about my own body. Considering that they’d found cancer in my uterus, imagine how much worse it could’ve been had I listened.
We know our bodies better than anyone. If something doesn’t feel right, get a second or third opinion – we shouldn’t have to do this – but until there is a serious culture shift in how women are treated when they are in pain, we must advocate for the women in our lives and fight for our health.
