I told my son I think my surgery had to be equivalent to three major surgeries and I could use care, but was not a permanently ill person because of them.
Yes, they removed my uterus, after peeling it off my internal organs with a knife.
And they removed an ovary and a half. The half was left after an ovarian cyst ruptured and blew out part of the ovary.
And they removed two Fallopian tubes. (Why not? They wouldn’t be conducting anything anywhere any more.)
And they had to sew my bladder back up, after they cut it open while peeling it off my uterus with a knife. (Leaving it approximately one half the size, if one can judge by its present capacity. And presently unable to alert me to needing to go until its capacity is full. Then it alerts with pain. None of this slightly full sensation. –Is that too easy to disregard with all the other pain going on? I don’t know.)
And they cut the adhesions off all my internal organs anywhere in the vicinity. They don’t, after all, want to have to open me up in a couple of years to discover that the reason I died is my adhesions cut off my large intestine. (Apparently the adhesions were prominent enough that the dr showed pics around. When I had an interim appt with one of her partners, and not one of the three drs at my surgery, he said he’d seen the picture of my adhesions. “Oh yes.”)
And, in response to my request, they prettied up my old three scar cut, tucking, folding, and some other dr verb I don’t recall. It is a much nicer scar. Even unhealed it does not pucker like the old one did years later.
So is that six surgeries, with only one opening cut, equivalent to three? I think so.
And I’m doing right as well as anyone could hope less than three weeks after all that painful cutting.