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So. I left you at being alive sometime back in December. A lot has happened since then.
First and foremost, the surgery was a success! It wasn't a success in the sense that it corrected another issue, but that there would need to be a few more to finish the job. It was a success as in I have no more leaky tush. I don't wake up anymore, wondering if I've had seepage in the night, or wondering when I'll be in a store or walking down the street or even riding in a car trying to plan how to prevent people from noticing something just happened that has made me uncomfortable, or how to get to the nearest bathroom to take care of it. I mean it worked as in my rear is healed and I can finally wear white pants. White Pants. And White Shorts. And White Skirts. The use of the capital letters is intentional, because I hold it in the utmost importance after dealing with Crohn's for the past 20 years. I can finally wear white bottoms of any nature, and not worry about having an accident or leaky tush and feel mortally embarrassed. Woot woot. For women, if you'd never had to deal with it, it's like getting your cycle unexpectedly, and wondering ifyou'll be able to handle it quickly enough before it stains or anyone notices. For men, it's like sharting. Yes, I said sharting, since you can't relate to us women in the other sense. It's that unexpected let go of stuff that puts you into a panicked state. And I no longer have to deal with it. That alone is cause for celebration. And shopping. Which I did. For primarily white items for my bottom half.
There was one drawback from the surgery though. I was left with a rudder between the cheeks. What rudder? Try this. Look at your arm (bicep-ish area). Gently squeeze it between your thumb and first finger. Tug. See the flap of skin it created? That's what was between my cheeks. When they aren't closing you up from the inside, they have to pull from both sides of cheek to the middle (crack area) and stitch it shut to make sure it heals properly. The resulting flap o' skin I affectionately dubbed my rudder. If it had made me swim faster, you'd better believe I would have kept it. Heck, I might have even been in London if it worked like a real rudder. I could just see the Olympic headlines and copy now, "Unknown from rinky-dink Hudson Valley SAILS past competition" "Local girl blows away the competition with her even keel. She attributes her balance and speed in the pool to none other than the rudder of skin between her cheeks. Says B, 'It sure wasn't my short arms or lack of upper body strength that pushed me ahead of the competition. It was that darn rudder between the cheeks. Thank goodness I chose not to cut it off and instead win gold for the USA.'" Yeah, and as long as I'm dreaming, maybe I'd like a pony. But you get the point. The rudder was useless. It was a squishy two-inch long flap of skin between my cheeks that rubbed against all of my clothing and made me a tad uncomfortable, so Dr. Polynice said he could do a revisionary surgery and remove my rudder. We had to wait for a while for me to be fully healed from the first surgery, and make sure insurance would approve it. Sadly, it was a concern that it wouldn't be covered due to some unjustifiable thing. Trust me when I say it was definitely necessary. I dare the insurance companies to walk around one day with a emery board taped between their butt cheeks and see how comfortable it is for them.
First and foremost, the surgery was a success! It wasn't a success in the sense that it corrected another issue, but that there would need to be a few more to finish the job. It was a success as in I have no more leaky tush. I don't wake up anymore, wondering if I've had seepage in the night, or wondering when I'll be in a store or walking down the street or even riding in a car trying to plan how to prevent people from noticing something just happened that has made me uncomfortable, or how to get to the nearest bathroom to take care of it. I mean it worked as in my rear is healed and I can finally wear white pants. White Pants. And White Shorts. And White Skirts. The use of the capital letters is intentional, because I hold it in the utmost importance after dealing with Crohn's for the past 20 years. I can finally wear white bottoms of any nature, and not worry about having an accident or leaky tush and feel mortally embarrassed. Woot woot. For women, if you'd never had to deal with it, it's like getting your cycle unexpectedly, and wondering ifyou'll be able to handle it quickly enough before it stains or anyone notices. For men, it's like sharting. Yes, I said sharting, since you can't relate to us women in the other sense. It's that unexpected let go of stuff that puts you into a panicked state. And I no longer have to deal with it. That alone is cause for celebration. And shopping. Which I did. For primarily white items for my bottom half.
There was one drawback from the surgery though. I was left with a rudder between the cheeks. What rudder? Try this. Look at your arm (bicep-ish area). Gently squeeze it between your thumb and first finger. Tug. See the flap of skin it created? That's what was between my cheeks. When they aren't closing you up from the inside, they have to pull from both sides of cheek to the middle (crack area) and stitch it shut to make sure it heals properly. The resulting flap o' skin I affectionately dubbed my rudder. If it had made me swim faster, you'd better believe I would have kept it. Heck, I might have even been in London if it worked like a real rudder. I could just see the Olympic headlines and copy now, "Unknown from rinky-dink Hudson Valley SAILS past competition" "Local girl blows away the competition with her even keel. She attributes her balance and speed in the pool to none other than the rudder of skin between her cheeks. Says B, 'It sure wasn't my short arms or lack of upper body strength that pushed me ahead of the competition. It was that darn rudder between the cheeks. Thank goodness I chose not to cut it off and instead win gold for the USA.'" Yeah, and as long as I'm dreaming, maybe I'd like a pony. But you get the point. The rudder was useless. It was a squishy two-inch long flap of skin between my cheeks that rubbed against all of my clothing and made me a tad uncomfortable, so Dr. Polynice said he could do a revisionary surgery and remove my rudder. We had to wait for a while for me to be fully healed from the first surgery, and make sure insurance would approve it. Sadly, it was a concern that it wouldn't be covered due to some unjustifiable thing. Trust me when I say it was definitely necessary. I dare the insurance companies to walk around one day with a emery board taped between their butt cheeks and see how comfortable it is for them.
