Monday, April 13, 2009

Strip me, Cut me, Stitch me, Heal me

Last Tuesday I had surgery to remove two large cysts from my ovaries.

They’d been causing chronic pain that was at times so excruciating that once I thought my appendix had burst and another time found myself on all fours crying for mercy at a gas station somewhere in South Carolina. So, needless to say, I’m not sorry to see them go.

After the procedure, the surgeon left Danny with a picture of the cysts as a souvenir. I thought about posting it but, that seems excessive even for me. Suffice it to say the cysts looked like two gooey softballs nestled into the innards of a pumpkin.

It went fairly normally as surgeries go. The anesthesiologist's name was Dr. Killman (really, you can’t make this shit up.) It’s already hard for me to keep a straight face in these situations. He might as well have said, hi I’m Grim Reaper and I’ll be putting you under today.

Since I am, at 31, something of a surgery connoisseur I definitely know my preferences. I like to get the happy juice BEFORE I get wheeled into the operating room. I do not want to see the person who has to move a folding chair aside so the gurney fits through the door. I do not want to see people wrangling with strange equipment, or feel people undoing the hospital gown strings that it took Danny and I both ten minutes to figure out.

And I certainly don't want to see a woman trying to attach what looks like metal leg stirrups to the end of the operating table. Honestly, the last thing I thought before I sank into oblivion was: Are my legs going to be in stirrups? Fuck. What's my situation like "down there"?

I came to in a drunken stupor. The nurse nodded politely as I prattled on about how much I love my mother-in-law while she removed my bedpan and helped me get my underwear on. Those of you who have had surgery will know that you simply have to accept the fact that strangers will be witnessing, and assisting, your bodily functions. But it's okay, copious amounts of narcotics ensure you will not care that a nurse is walking down the corridor with a container of your pee.

According to what the surgeon told Danny, (I was too doped for conversation) I have the dubious honor of having the worst case of scarring from endometriosis the surgeon had ever seen. Because you know, I don’t believe in half assing things. When I do something, I do it ALL THE WAY. I imagine my uterus looks something like Freddy Kruger's face (metaphorically speaking).

So this past week was spent popping percocet and watching movies on Netflix Instant (god bless it). I have been spoiled by friends with magazines, cookies, cupcakes, pudding and pastires.

But I think I'm ready to get back to normal now. I am doing well and looking forward to feeling like a regular person. A person who does normal things like drive through South Carolina without having to touch the ground at its trucker gas stations (no offense South Carolina I'm sure your trucker gas station pavement isn't any nastier than anyone else's).


james ford said...

speaking of ironic names... i have a lesbian friend and giggle everytime i email her at heh heh heh. i said "cocks." i also know two gay dudes with the last names "sargent" and "steele" which is pretty fucking masculine (but still doesn't beat "joe montana." i wish they would legalize gay marriage just so they could hyphenate and introduce themselves as "michael sargent steele."

as for surgery, the only operation i ever had was when i was twenty-five to have my mother removed from my back. ba-dum-dum.

it's cool. my mom doesn't have a computer. she'll never see that joke.

ContraWhit said...

I'm glad that you're feeling better. And um, thanks (?) for not sharing the photos. It was nice of them to give you a souvenir, though.

As for surgery, you are right. When I was in labor with Charis, any sense of modesty went right out the door. My own mother saw more of me than she'd seen since I was two, and I didn't care AT ALL. She said something to me at one point like "I'm not looking" and I just thought "Who the hell cares? Get this out of me!"

Anyway, glad that you're feeling better. If I can do anything for you, let me know.

Jocelyne said...

OK Steph, you have to slow down on this surgery thing. Like come on, now I am going to have to have a couple to stay ahead. Well, maybe "one" more ;)

Well, just take care and get better.

Sugared Ellipses... said...

DUDE! WTF! We need to talk, seriously. Christ. I am an asshole. I hate my transportation stituation...did I just type that? Ah, situation that is. Endometriosis! You're making me crazy nervous. Wait, I just read Wikipedia, I'm feeling a little better now. My Aunt (now on Hospice) had endometrial cancer, so I was freaking. Still, call me, or I'll call you. Love you chica!

Sugared Ellipses... said...

Oh, and demerol is your friend. If you can get that shit it will seriously make you happy. :)

MsLisaL said...

you're welcome.

Debbie from Seattle said...

oh my god, i can't believe we didn't talk about the afflictions of our inner lady parts! how come that didn't come up at the few hours we talked at a wedding?! seems like such an appropriate time.

i just had surgery last year where they removed a grapefruit sized fibroid from my uterus that had been causing me to appear 4 months pregnant. it was super fun! go uteri!

but wow, you would never had known you had just had surgery. i'm glad recovery went well. i sympathize and i agree with you that the juice is definitely better administered as soon as you can possibly get it. i was trying to talk the surgeon into giving me something before we even had to go to the hospital. but i also have an irrational fear of all things doctor-y.

anyway, it was so nice meeting you. you and danny are so cool and andrew and i are sad you live so far.