Day 289 in my miracles life
There have been so many emotions running through my mind over the last couple of days it is hard to know what is real and what is in my head. Its hard to know where to start to tell a tale that simply ended the same way it started, to tell a story with no ending, a story that ends simply with the question why me?
Why me?
A part of me always knew i was full of shit, i mean honestly not many people can jibber jabber on for 365 days straight always finding something or other to write about, not many people can talk as constantly and incessantly as i do or spend their days finding silly things to talk to their daughters (ok ok i am really talking to myself) about… But i never really thought i was LITERALLY full of shit…
But it seems that on tuesday night, i was.
It also seems that things that happen to us, things that we put aside in our minds and think that they are ‘nothing’ sometimes lead to be something bigger…
I’ll cut to the chase.
I was bloated, i had gassy gas, i had cramps when i went for a run, i was feeling nauseous… All things i just ignored and put toward other things, i mean who doesnt get gas? Who isnt bloated time to time? You get cramps when your dehydrated right? And well, we all know i am as blind as a bat – so that explains the nausea right? Wrong!
Tuesday night when i came home from the gym, and ladies, gentlemen if you not good with TMI (too much information) then here is the time to tune out please, i am an open person and after the last few days and the weeks to come i KNOW that i will have absolutely NO modesty left, so eh, here we go guys…
There was feacle matter coming from my vagina… Yes, yes there was shit in my giny… Gena the vagina was full of shit…. At first i wasnt sure, but then it kept coming, and after years of being on toilet paper inspection duty (all my IF buddies will know what im talking about) that i KNEW this wasnt right, that this wasnt just any kind of discharge. I had a sniff (yes yes i did just write that out loud) and went into panic mode. After i had disappeared for 1/2 an hour my husband was starting to ask if everything was ok. It wasnt but i simply said “I dont want to go to the doctors”
After years of being in and out of doctors offices, after years of being in and out of fertility clinics, i didnt want to go anywhere. I didnt want this to be happening, i didnt want to leave my daughter at 7pm in the evening to sit in a waiting room, after all – i’ve done my time of that – havent i?
So i left it, but then half an hour later it got worse, i had to do something it stunk, it wasnt right. So we all hoped into the car and headed out to the “super clinic”
Two hours later we were heading home, putting a baby to bed and i was sobbing. The doctor had doubted me, questioned me, examined me and told me that yes, i was right there was in fact feacle matter in my gina i more than likely had a fistula – i was infact full of shit and no matter what it had to come out, i had to have surgery to fix this problem urgently or i could be septic.
So off to the ER we went the next morning… And we waited, and waited and waited. I was examined, i was doubted, i was questioned, i was asked “are you sure” so many times it honestly wasnt funny – i just wanted to scream “do you think i dont know my own body? do you think i dont know when something isnt right? do you think i would be sitting here waiting for 8 hours away from my baby if everything was fine?” But then came hope. The head huncho, the gyno in charge, the guy that everyone is afraid of or looks up to heard my story and knew it wasnt right, that this was by far an “unusual situation”
You see fistulas happen after surgery, they happen after vaginal births, they happen from anal sex, from kinky sex, from trauma… They dont just happen… And i can assure you that there has been no trauma, no surgery, no vaginal births and no no no there has not been anything kinky happening in my house… So why? Why do i have a fistula?
The head honcho gyno (who was really very lovely and quite funny) came in and not only made me smile, but had a look and confirmed that something wasnt right, he just wasnt sure what. He was worried, this is something you see in an old man, not a young lady… So not only was i full of shit, but i was bordering on old mans symptoms… It wasnt looking good and after 9 hours i just wanted an answer, i just wanted them to open me up find the problem and fix it… But like everything in life – its not that simple.
I was sent of for a CT scan, more waiting lead to no answers, lead to we cant see it, but it doesnt mean its not there – something is wrong, and we have to fix it. They gave me a choice, go home or stay in over night with a theater booked for further exploration and possibly a fix. I didnt want to stay, but i didnt want to go home not knowing not being clean, feeling like i was full of shit, like i was going to get sick from it, disgusted by my own body… And yes yes i was feeling sick from disgust at my own body, sick that my body could do this to me – i dont need my uterus anymore, but i dont want waste in there, i dont want to be leaking stinky matter from my gina, the doctor was right, i am not some old man, i am a young woman who wants to be active, who wants to have sex, who wants to be able to look after her 10 month old daughter without worrying that she will get sick. So i was admitted.
More doctors came by, nurses looked after me but as the night progressed as i lay in that bed surrounded by sick women, i wished i wasnt there. i wished i was at home, i missed my baby more than i ever thought i could or would…. I just wanted to be home, i just wanted this nightmare to be over, i was sick of not knowing.
As the night progressed as my emotions toyed with me from both lack of sleep and simply from being alone when i needed company the most, as more doctors came in and out through the night waking me and explaining the exportation procedure, as i was told i would have a D&C as i was told all the risks, as i was informed what may or may not happen i couldnt help but to let the tears flow. I knew in my heart that after the procedure the problem wouldnt be fixed, but i still hoped and prayed, i still prayed that they could find and fix it.
The night came and went, i was prepared for theatre, and once again i was left by myself to wait. One of the registrars under my head honcho gyno came by to explain to me more about fistulas, and i will tell you now, i wish he hadnt, i wish he had left me in the dark and i hope and pray with everything inside of me that i am one of the lucky ones who’s fistula heals itself…
He told me that they would have a look, but today nothing was happening. That if infact they found the problem, that it will be an ongoing thing. All i could think was that i didnt have time for an ongoing thing… All i could think was that i have a baby to look after, a job to keep, a household to run, that i dont have time, that i want to run my stupid 1/2 marathon that i just wanted it to be fixed now, so that i could heal and forget it ever happened – why couldnt he be telling me that they would simply fix it & i would be on my way in hours…? Why not that?
But it seems when your full of shit like me, nothing is ever simple.
Even if they found it, they cant just mend it, nothing mends in shit… Infections happen – he put it to me in laymen s terms… “If you cut your arm and rubbed shit on it everyday, would it heal?” I just looked up at him… So he explained what i still wish he hadnt said, and if he said it to me in any other way i think it would have been better, but i just dont think he realised he was talking to a fit healthy young mother, i think he thought he was talking to a grumpy old man.
We fix the fistula and while it is healing we give you a stoma (i think that is what it is called) – all i head was a bag of shit taped to me for three months… A bag of shit on the outside of me for THREE MONTHS… I couldnt help it, i couldnt stop it i started bawling my eyes out…. Its not fair, its just not fair, why me, why me? The doctor simply responded with – its not as bad as it sounds… SHIT IN A BAG TAPED TO YOU ISNT AS BAD AS IT SOUNDS?! How am i meant to live my life like that? how am i meant to look after a baby like that… Please please please dont let that be…
The doctor left me there crying myself to sleep.
The next thing i remember i was being wheeled to theater and placed under sedation… It was one of the most surreal experiences ever, as i was wheeled nearly to the rooms where i was wheeled but 10 short months ago when my baby was born, when i had the c-section. Same nurses, same students…. Same rooms, same beds… Only this time no happy ending, this time i was knocked out cold feeling more than ever alone and missing my baby.
I woke up and instantly knew there was no answer, no solution, i instantly knew in my heart that there would be more tests… I dont know why, but i just knew it. And two hours later the doctors came by and confirmed my feeling. They couldnt find the fistula, which meant it was probably very small and higher in my bowels. And to my astonishment my wonderful head honcho gyno gave me good news… He had cleaned me out, there was no more ‘gunk’ leaking in the past two hours, so i was to come in as a ‘out patient’ and have a colonoscopy (YEY for me) an MRI and a hypogastothingamegingy (i have NO idea what it is called) where they make me swallow dye and as i sit there digesting it they watch me through some machine…. NOW DOESNT THAT SOUND LIKE A WHOLE LOT OF FUN WRAPPED INTO ONE?
But it was ok, i was smiling because the news that followed made my night, i was going home, and my follow up wasnt for SIX weeks, which meant…. I could run my (stupid) half marathon 
I have never been so happy to be placed on a six week appointment wait, never been so happy to have someone make me wait six weeks for news from tests…
Its not going to be nice, these tests are going to be invasive and inconvenient. My poor baby is going to have to be messed around going here and there with mummy, staying with grandmama, and at the end of it i will possibly have to have a “poo bag” on the outside of me… But from all that, all i heard was “it might just heal itself” and “you can run your marathon”
I am sitting here now with my baby kissing her more than i ever had before, letting her sit with me as i type this post even though she should be napping. I have never missed someone so much as i did on wednesday night, i have never wanted to be whole more in my life than i do now simply for my little baby… Yes i want to run the (stoopid) marathon, but more importantly i want this to heal itself for my baby girl, i want to be whole for her.
I dont know why it seems that my body fails me time and time again, i dont know why i have to be the “puzzle” in every medical sinario, and quite hoestly it frustrates me, but i do know that i have a little person who i need and who needs me… I need to be healthy for her. So for the next few weeks and as i go through my invasive tests, as i run my marathon i will simply just be praying that they find nothing, that it heals itself on its own…
All i pray is that the next time i will be admitted into hospital will be when i am 80 something years old and on my way to a better place…
