Mumbod: Bum party

My health went on pause while in Canada, in more ways than one. (Oh man, the vegan junk food they have up there is insane!) But I got right back to it when we got home, booking surgery for my sagging bladder.

When I saw my gyno, she showed me a letter my colorectal surgeon sent her explaining that my butt surgery was invasive enough I shouldn’t be touched again below the belt for at least four months. That was a bit disappointing as Gyno had hoped to do her surgery at the same time, giving me only one recovery period.

Based on my butt surgery date, we booked for May.

Upon re-examination, Gyno said things were looking good. So good in fact that with a lot of general fitness and pelvic floor exercises that I might decide I don’t want the surgery after all. I didn’t admit I hadn’t pushed as hard this time because I was holding in a fart! Still, that gives me some hope. Prepare for posts about fitness in the New Year.

This past week my colonoscopy date arrived. I’d also be having the advanced version of a bunch of tests I’d already been through, and I assumed these would take place while I was unconscious.

If you know me, you know I’m not the kind of person who does well without food. I don’t fast, not even intermittently, I don’t restrict calories or miss meals. And that’s best for everyone because I’m a bit of a psycho. I knew I wouldn’t love the whole system purge that comes with colonoscopy, but didn’t anticipate how sick Prep kit C would make me.

My friend told me it would be “like weeing out [my] bum” but it was more like having a bucket of water pour out, over and over. No wonder I’d been told to drink as much as humanly possible! Grossness aside, the cramps were atrocious and the last of the three sachets made me nauseous.

The day of I was required to be nil by mouth from midnight till 2.30pm. I slept most of that day, too queasy and weak to do much else, and showed up for my appointment full of excitement for the meal I’d eat after. Dear Hart and I were making a date of it.

Nervous, I sat in the waiting room with all the “life after you start pooping yourself” brochures, until the student nurse came to check me in. I tell her what I’m there for and she gives me a little side-eye.

“You’re not here for a colonoscopy,” she tells me. Double checks. Calls my doctor. Nope. I did all that horrible prep for nothing. Missed my workday, my favourite day of the week, for nothing. Got acid burns on my ring for nothing.

I cried.

Anyway the nurses were super nice. They could see I was dehydrated (its summer here) and shaky. Brought me fruit, lollies, and water, then let me know Surgeon was running a little late. They offered to let me run down to the kiosk and get a sandwich, but I didn’t want to ruin this lunch I’d been promising myself, so I chose to wait.

While we were sitting there, bored, sharing our life stories, my surgeon’s receptionist calls me like “Oh I see you have test today, are you already at the hospital? Oh good! Just calling to let you know the theatre will be closed for Christmas and we won’t be able to do your colonoscopy on the date you booked.”

Mate, ten minutes ago I thought today was the date we booked for that business.
“If that’s when I was having the colonoscopy, when is my surgery booked for?”

“Oh, you aren’t booked for any surgery.”
Uhm, what?

So we make a tentative date for March next year and I cry some more.  Tea appears. It’s okay.

An hour and a half late, Surgeon arrives, and by then I’ve got a handle on my emotions and can laugh off the bullshit. They lay me on the bed, pants down and curled up under the sheet, then she steps up and asks to reveal my butt, reassuring me that the door is locked, it’s just her, the nurse, the student “and anus. Your very own bum party!”

That’s more privacy than I get at home some days.

In the end, my bum party was great. These women are fantastic, I felt well taken care of. We talked about our diets (I’m the only patient in poo school right now who isn’t taking fibre supplements—yay plants!) and our births. Surgeon was bragging to Nurse about how I’d home birthed all three kids, and Nurse was all “But what did you do for pain?” I’m like “My midwife said she’d set up a pool if I wanted.” Nurse’s face was priceless. Doubly funny because Surgeon was all “Miriam is made from tougher stuff than the rest of us,” yet Nurse had watched me cry for half an hour that afternoon over basically nothing.

I won’t go into details on the tests, but if you’re reading this because you have to visit your anorectal clinic soon and you want to know what goes on, feel free to email me. There’s no shame in bum parties.

I got my pants up and she told me my results, letting me know the type of surgery we chose looks really promising considering where I’m currently at, and when I told her I’m apparently not booked for surgery, she was just as shocked as I’d been. Thankfully, she’s going to try and do my surgery and colonoscopy on the same day. Crossing my fingers for that.

I’m also booked for women’s physio, which one of my friends refers to as “getting fisted” so, joy. Seems like the road to recovery from prolapse is a long one. Do your Kegels, even if you’re a boy. They’re important!

Feel free to drop me a line, talking about your health goals in the New Year, I love to hear from my readers