Uterus Removal Quotes

Nothing seems crueler--or more ironic--than these upper crusters who never pay a dime for their high-priced shrinks or reflexology sessions to call those who just want that tumor removed from their uterus a bunch of commies. Well, the revolution is at hand and let's hope all those uninsured commies give the rich such a headache that a whole bottle of Advil won't be enough to take the pain way.

Excuse me while I throw this down, I’m old and cranky and tired of hearing the idiocy repeated by people who ought to know better. Real women do not have curves. Real women do not look like just one thing. Real women have curves, and not. They are tall, and not. They are brown-skinned, and olive-skinned, and not. They have small breasts, and big ones, and no breasts whatsoever. Real women start their lives as baby girls. And as baby boys. And as babies of indeterminate biological sex whose bodies terrify their doctors and families into making all kinds of very sudden decisions. Real women have big hands and small hands and long elegant fingers and short stubby fingers and manicures and broken nails with dirt under them. Real women have armpit hair and leg hair and pubic hair and facial hair and chest hair and sexy moustaches and full, luxuriant beards. Real women have none of these things, spontaneously or as the result of intentional change. Real women are bald as eggs, by chance and by choice and by chemo. Real women have hair so long they can sit on it. Real women wear wigs and weaves and extensions and kufi and do-rags and hairnets and hijab and headscarves and hats and yarmulkes and textured rubber swim caps with the plastic flowers on the sides. Real women wear high heels and skirts. Or not. Real women are feminine and smell good and they are masculine and smell good and they are androgynous and smell good, except when they don’t smell so good, but that can be changed if desired because real women change stuff when they want to. Real women have ovaries. Unless they don’t, and sometimes they don’t because they were born that way and sometimes they don’t because they had to have their ovaries removed. Real women have uteruses, unless they don’t, see above. Real women have vaginas and clitorises and XX sex chromosomes and high estrogen levels, they ovulate and menstruate and can get pregnant and have babies. Except sometimes not, for a rather spectacular array of reasons both spontaneous and induced. Real women are fat. And thin. And both, and neither, and otherwise. Doesn’t make them any less real. There is a phrase I wish I could engrave upon the hearts of every single person, everywhere in the world, and it is this sentence which comes from the genius lips of the grand and eloquent Mr. Glenn Marla: There is no wrong way to have a body. I’m going to say it again because it’s important: There is no wrong way to have a body. And if your moral compass points in any way, shape, or form to equality, you need to get this through your thick skull and stop with the “real women are like such-and-so” crap. You are not the authority on what “real” human beings are, and who qualifies as “real” and on what basis. All human beings are real. Yes, I know you’re tired of feeling disenfranchised. It is a tiresome and loathsome thing to be and to feel. But the tit-for-tat disenfranchisement of others is not going to solve that problem. Solidarity has to start somewhere and it might as well be with you and me

Yes, my uterus was removed — peritonitis had set in. But it is wonderful. I am no longer bothered with the monthly period.

If there’s anything left in the uterus after delivery - placenta, amniotic membranes, a Lego Darth Vader - the uterus can’t contract back down properly, and this causes bleeding until the offending item is removed. 

This person is (pick one): 1. on a perilous journey from which we can learn much when he or she returns; 2. possessed by (pick one) a) the gods, b) God (that is, a prophet), c) some bad spirits, demons, or devils, d) the Devil, 3. a witch 4. bewitched (variant of 2); 5. bad, and must be isolated and punished, 6. ill, and must be isolated and treated by (pick one): a) purging and leeches, b) removing the uterus if the person has one, c) electric shock to the brain, d) cold sheets wrapped tight around the body, e) Thorazine or Stelazine; 7. ill, and must spend the next seven years talking about it; 8. a victim of society's low tolerance of deviant behavior; 9. sane in an insane world; 10. on a perilous journey from which he or she may never return.

For example, Twitter and Facebook—both of which happily hosted Kim Kardashian’s nude bottom—removed the word “vagina” from an advertisement marketing a book about female anatomy, written by prominent gynecologist Dr. Jen Gunter.21 Similarly, journalist Sarah Lacy found that she was unable to advertise her book, entitled A Uterus Is a Feature, on Facebook.22 Plus-sized women have had their Instagram accounts removed for posting selfies in bikinis—something that skinny women do all the time without reprisal.23 Both platforms have also blocked advertisements for information about teen pregnancy, proper bra fitting, and gynecologist visits.24

In truth, we know remarkably little about the purpose of the various opiates, chemicals, hormones, and hormone precursors that the uterus secretes with such vigor. We don’t know how important the output is to our overall health and well-being beyond considerations of reproduction, nor do we know whether the various secretory skills continue past menopause. When the endometrium ceases to wax and wane, does the secretory program of the uterus likewise lapse into quiescence? Some experts say yes, some say no, all should probably settle with “don’t know.” We should be humbled by the fact that scientists discovered the very dramatic concentrations of anandamide in the uterus as recently as the late 1990s. And that humbleness should in turn enhance our vigilance against removing the uterus in all but the most extreme circumstances. The

Let us bring our account to a summation. Burdock acts so widely on the system that it is somewhat difficult to pin down its exact affinities. Yet, we can say that it opens pores and promotes secretion from internal and external surfaces. It seems to act particularly through the liver, lymphatics, and kidneys. It stimulates metabolism through the liver, cleansing and feeding through the lymph, and waste removal through the veins. Thus, it strengthens, wrings out and lifts tissues and organs, including the uterus and prostate. It acts strongly on the skin, to promote or correct perspiration. On the psychological level, Burdock helps us to deal with our worries about the unknown, the “Hedge Ruffians,” the bears, which lurk in the dark woods beyond our control. It seizes upon deep, complex issues, penetrates to the core and brings up old memories and new answers. It gives us the faith to move ahead on our path, despite the unknown problems which may ensnare us along the way. It helps the person who is afraid become more hardy, while it brings the hardy wanderer back to his original path. It restores vigor and momentum. Preparation,

I was not alone in my illness, nor alone in being blamed for my illness. The illness was chronic. We grew fibroids. Nobody knew why more Black and brown women were afflicted at a higher rate. From Audre Lorde: "When you live on the edge of any structure, you have to know that survival is not theoretical." Our uterine linings began appearing in unexpected parts of our bodies, including our brains. Endometriosis. Prolapse. Fibromyalgia. Some of us dissociated. Some of us had panic attacks. The level of cortisol in our bloodstreams grew toxic. They removed the uterus of my friend. They put children in cages at the border. We were angry at the lies of women's lib and civil rights, at the failed experiment of our country. We admitted to ourselves that white people could not be redeemed. We were taunted by our president's tweets. Unsure what to do with our rage, we turned it on ourselves. Our immune systems attacked us. We grew tumors. Me, too, we repeated. Me, too. The previous season we'd begun saying, Black lives matter. Nobody listened. Nobody knew how to balance our hormones. Probably there was not enough money in it. They theorized it was because we were not bearing enough children. We begged for estrogen and were refused. Our perception was either extremely distorted or crystal clear. Our trauma was too complex to diagnose.

Note that a partial hysterectomy (removal of the uterus but not the ovaries), ovarian cyst removal, or endometrial ablation does not cause menopause but can affect blood flow to the ovaries, prompting menopausal symptoms at an earlier age.

or simple, hysterectomy, where the uterus is removed but the ovaries are left in place, will stop menstruation but not ovulation. As such, it will not prompt early menopause. However, hormonal production may decrease, and blood flow to the ovaries may be reduced, too. This may prompt the symptoms of menopause earlier than expected.

Testing is instead recommended to evaluate fertility problems or when periods stop at an early age, as with POI. Another reason to test is for polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), a hormonal condition that can impact menstrual regularity and fertility. Labs may also help determine menopausal status for women who no longer have a period due to medical interventions. These include a partial hysterectomy (the surgical removal of the uterus but not the ovaries) or an endometrial ablation (a procedure that removes the lining of the uterus). These procedures stop your menstrual period but don’t stop ovulation. In this case, the occurrence of menopausal symptoms is the first indication of menopause, with blood work providing supporting evidence. In such cases, the levels of estrogen and other hormones, chiefly FSH and another hormone called inhibin B, are measured. Inhibin B regulates FSH production, and it can serve as a marker for ovarian function and follicular content. Normative

Joshua…” I spun around and had her in my arms in a heartbeat. “Kristen, oh God, thank you,” I breathed, kissing the side of her neck. It was like a reprieve from a prison sentence, seeing her. I was stuck here for two days, two days that I wouldn’t be able to get to her, and she’d come to me. But she didn’t hug me back. She put her hands to my chest and tried to make space between us. “Josh, I just came to talk to you, okay?” I didn’t take my hands from her waist. Her face was puffy, like she’d been up all night crying. Deep circles under her eyes. I leaned in to kiss her and she turned from me. “I need you to stand over there.” She nodded to the kitchen counter. “Please.” If she left, I wouldn’t be able to go after her. I was on shift and couldn’t leave the station. I didn’t want to let her go, but I didn’t want her to run off again, so I stepped back. She wore leggings and one of her off-the-shoulder shirts that I loved, and even though she looked tired, she was the most beautiful woman I’d even seen. And she loves me. I didn’t even know what I did to deserve her, but I knew I’d do anything to make up for the way I’d made her feel. She took a deep breath. “I’m having a partial hysterectomy the week after the wedding,” she said flatly. “I have uterine fibroids. They’re tumors that grow on the walls of my uterus. Mine are imbedded. They can’t be surgically removed, and they didn’t respond to treatment. They cause heavy bleeding and cramping. And…and infertility.” She said the last word like she had to force it out. She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked away from me, tears welling in her beautiful eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was embarrassing for me. And I don’t need you to say anything. I just needed you to know why. Because it was never my intention to make you feel unwanted.” Her chin quivered and my heart broke. “I did want you, Josh.” She looked back at me. “I always have. You didn’t imagine anything.” The admission that she’d wanted me made my heart reach for her. I took a step toward her, and she took a step back. I put my hands up. “Kristen, nothing has changed. My feelings for you haven’t changed. I want you, no matter what. I’m so sorry—I didn’t know. When I said—” She shook her head. “Josh, this isn’t open for discussion. I didn’t come here to tell you so you could decide whether you want to date me. That’s not even on the table. I just realized that for the last few weeks, I made you feel unloved. And I’m really sorry. I thought you…well, I didn’t know you had feelings for me. I thought only I…Anyway, that’s my fault. I should have never let that happen.” I scoffed. “There was nothing you could have done to keep me from falling in love with you. Even if I’d known this from the very beginning, it wouldn’t have kept me away. You should have told me.” “No, I should have stayed away from you,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t.