A little over two weeks ago I had a date with my surgeon in
the operating room. As I lay on the
table, waiting for the drugs to kick in, staring at the instruments that would soon be invading my body, I
thought of Betty White.
I had originally thought that I would not share all the
details of what I’ve been through, you know, the whole TMI thing. But then as I talked to some of my close
friends, I started to realize that there may be some women who could really
benefit from hearing about what was involved.
And, truth be told, I think there are some men out there too who should
listen. Women’s bodies are strong –
stronger than we realize – but sometimes we have to put up with a lot. A hell of a lot.
Childbirth can do a number on our bodies, to which I can
certainly attest. After three big
baby boys, ranging from 8lb 6oz to a whopping 10lbs, all delivered completely
naturally at home, my insides weren’t quite in the shape – or in the place - they used to be. They were dragging,
literally.
I’ve been dealing with pelvic prolapse, which is something
that many women encounter, post childbirth.
Not everyone needs surgery to correct it, but if I’m going to do
something, then I want to go all the way.
Darn perfectionism.
My surgery corrected 2 problems – a cystocele (a prolapsed
bladder, which falls into the vagina) and a rectocele (a prolapsed rectum,
which also falls into the vagina). The
cystocele was more of a nuisance than
anything. Stress incontinence. Sneezing, coughing, laughing and sometimes running would typically result in an, um, accident. Ugh.
My doctor used a bladder sling to fix that prolapse. He cut open the front of my vagina and
inserted a mesh tape around my urethra to put it back where it belonged, then
stitched me up. Over time, my own tissue
will grow over the mesh to keep it in place and prevent the stress
incontinence. Whoo hoo!
The rectocele was much more of a problem for me. I had no idea that the rectum could even
prolapse! Sounds gross I know, and
believe me, it is. And a pain in the
ass. Absolutely. My rectum had prolapsed so badly that it
actually came out of my body.
Hello world!
From a piece of my anatomy that should never, ever, ever see
the light of day. And that became very
problematic.
To fix my rectocele, my surgeon cut open the back of my vagina,
pushed my rectum back into place, cut out some tissue and then stitched me back
up.
The whole procedure took about an hour.
I had a wonderful sleep under anesthesia, but boy recovery
was rough. Talk about pain and
swelling.
But I had some wonderful drugs. Oxycontin.
The first couple of days were a bit of a blur. But then my body started to react to the
anesthesia and the oxycontin.
Essentially, my intestines stopped working. They stopped moving things along for 5
days.
5 long, painful, days.
Let me tell you, when that part of your body is full of stitches,
constipation is the last thing you want to deal with. The VERY last thing you want to deal with.
Ever.
My doctor put me on all liquid diet and a variety of
medications to get things moving.
Thankfully on day 6, things started working again. Painfully so. No more oxycontin though. Sigh.
It’s now been two weeks since my surgery. I’m on a lot of restrictions. No lifting anything more than a gallon of
milk for 2 months. No strenuous
exercise. No carrying a laundry
basket. No carrying groceries. No pushing a shopping cart.
I still feel foggy.
And I feel it if I’ve been up and around for too long. I’m still taking a couple of naps every day. And sleeping for a long time every night.
Oh, and now I have a bladder infection. Great. More pain and medication.
Thank goodness my dad flew 3000 miles to help out. He’s been doing the laundry, shuttling the
kids around to whatever practices and clubs are going on, plus odd jobs around
the house. My friends have been bringing
us meals. My BFF Beth, a nurse, has been expertly looking after me. My husband has been coming
home a little earlier to help out and took a few days off right after my
surgery. My dad is leaving on Saturday,
so I’ll be on my own next week and back to shuttling the kids around. We are going to just muddle through. If the kids have dirty clothes for a few
days, well, so be it. We’ll survive.
I just have to remember to not lift anything, and take it
easy. As a typically busy marathon-running mom of 3 boys, it’s hard to slow down.
But I have to. If I don’t, I will
undo everything the doctor did, and believe me, I don’t want to go through this
again. Ever.
If there is one thing I believe in, it’s a sense of
humor. To go through this, and the
testing that I had to have before the surgery, and emerge emotionally sound,
I’ve had to call on my sense of humor numerous times.
I’m going to write about that.
And as a political news junkie, I’ve also had a lot of time
to think while laying in bed. With all
the discussion lately in the media about birth control and womens’ rights, you
better believe I’ve got some very strong opinions about the rights I have over
my body.
MY body. And I feel I have to write about that, too.
After all, this is my journey. With my body.
My pink miles.
And I will never need to grow a pair, because I'm a woman and my bits are strong.
