All last week, I walked around on edge. I was flippant and short with people. My last days being able to walk for awhile were going fast.
On Thursday night, the hubs and I drove in silence to Manhattan in order to get a decent night’s sleep in preparation for the big vagina surgery the next morning. After years of pain and talking about this “miracle surgery” for so long, the day was finally here.
When we first went in for a consult three years ago to set this surgery up, The Mini was in the throes of developmental delays and I remember so vividly, walking out of the doctors office and having a full blown panic attack. “They’re going to do what WHERE?” Vulvar vestibulectomy isn’t exactly the type of surgery that women are lining up to get. Even if it’s going to improve your life. The recovery is long, and did I mention, they cut a chunk of FLESH out of your bits? My bits are now a byte. Or a bite, or just a bit? I don’t even know.
The recovery instructions basically say: Take a lot of baths, don’t look, have an ice pack on your vagina constantly, and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON’T LOOK. And really, I can’t even move to see, or bend in that position, but I couldn’t see even if I wanted to, it’s like someone took a bicycle pump to my undercarriage.
The surgery itself, wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. It was done right in an OBGYN’s office, under conscious sedation, which I wasn’t exactly fond of at first, because I prefer to be unconscious during my surgeries. But they assured me that I wouldn’t be awake, even if I did hear something, and they were going to make sure that the area was numb. Doing the surgery in an office had a definite advantage. There was no waiting around in a pre-op veal pen all day. I wasn’t bugged by a bunch of nurses in a recovery room, rather a very cozy setting of two recovery chairs. I was home by mid afternoon, and in my own bed, something that I appreciated greatly. I hate being in a big hospital for outpatient surgery. You spend more time waiting than anything else.
There is pain, but it’s completely not what I thought it would be. For years, I was so used to this burning feeling, and there’s no burning. It’s pain where the stitches are. It’s cramping, swelling, but not burning. I can’t really sit, and I have to walk like my legs are bound together. The healing process is slow, and having to lay in bed all day is taking its toll on me, and also disrupting to the kids, which we knew would be the case, but hopefully in another week and a half, I’ll be able to get out of the house, at least a little bit.
For now, I’m enjoying not having to wear pants. Because you have to celebrate the little things.