How's my butt, do you ask? Fabulous, thank you.
My surgery, back in February, went so smoothly that it surprised me. I was so worried about the bad side effects of anaesthesia that I almost backed out. Even though the anaesthesiologist was about as comforting as a rat, I still went through with it. In the operating room, the last thing that I remember is that everybody was going about their business and not talking to me much. Then I woke up when they tried sticking a cannula in my nose for oxygen. It tickled my nose so much and I kept pulling it out. Also, my face itched sooooo much. I don't know what that was all about.
Anyhoo, then I spent two sleepy days in the hospital. My parents spent what time they could with me, watching movies. We should have brought games, that would have been fun, too. My cousin Sunny brought some beautiful flowers with the best card.
Recovery was actually fine. I had 3 weeks off of work, which I loved. People say they get bored being at home all the time, and I was happy as a clam. (As a side note, I just googled images of happy clams. Apparently there are a few restaurants called The Happy Clam. I'm sure their clams don't appreciate that expectation.)
The worst part about the whole experience was the painkillers. I only took the heavy-duty ones for about 4 or 5 days. Being on the painkillers was fine, it was getting off them that was terrible. I was nauseated and got huge headaches. I spent a day with my head on my mom's lap. I stopped taking those as soon as I could, and took ibuprofen every once in a while when I needed it.
I spent a couple weeks on crutches, too. That was a first. I didn't even mind it.
The first few weeks after the surgery, I felt like I should've been in one of those Dick and Jane books:
See Erin. See Erin sleep. Now see Erin. She is sitting up. Good job, Erin! Soon Erin can walk. Go, Erin, go! See Erin take painkillers. Oh, oh! Erin is funny. Funny, funny Erin.
No really, there were a lot of small victories for me. Sitting down instead of laying down was a big deal, especially when I could sit on Lefty (Lefty being my left butt cheek, in case you didn't catch that). Taking a real shower after like a week of spit baths. Going on a walk down the street.
Since then, I've been happily Pearl Wilson- free. I can't say I'm totally symmetrical, which was really my hope, but hey, I'm not complaining.
The reason I was thinking about this is because about a week and a half ago I got another MRI to see if Pearl was anywhere to be seen, and thankfully, it wasn't. I do have some minimal pain, but I think maybe that's from the scar tissue? Or maybe because the glutes on that side are messed up? I don't know. But it's nothing to worry about, since Pearl is gone. All that's left is a pretty monster size scar and a story about about a monster size tumor that I love to freak people out with.
So there ya go, you've all been updated on my bootay. Aren't you glad you asked?
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