The Thin Red Line Remains

Last Edit December 30, 1998

It has been 16 days since the surgery.
Last Saturday, the doctor pulled out the stitch - except he forgot to tell me just how long it was.
It was as uncomfortable as when he took the drain out of my side the previous week. A worm-like thing. And a commercial appeared on TV showing worms at the same time! Yuck!
This was different.
This hurt!
I used Lamaze breathing - focus - concentrate - count, all that stuff. That's how bad. There was a long one at the top and a small one at the bottom. I got real acquainted with his ceiling!
And now I have a blister. Because the last doctor to repair the hernia cut the blood supply to what was left of the navel as it had been left in the repair 40 years before that. The surface skin gave up and blistered and sloughed off. Cute. It is supposed to heal.
This had better be the last go round on repairs!
I have enough life stripes!
My mother was fixed the week before I was. My sister goes in this week. Both lost parts of their colons and parts of their intestine. My mother has webbing My sister can't have webbing. Both will have more lasting problems (dietary) than I will. I consulted my doctor. Webbing rusts and perforates the intestine!
Egad!
However, I have structure repaired that encloses the gut and the webbing on top of that so I am not in any danger.
And hernias tend to run in families. I think these are genetic. We all have had more than two children. (I lost one baby in the fourth month of a pregnancy - but I had already gained 30 pounds.) We all gained during pregnancy.
The lesson here - if you think you may have a hernia - if you see a bulge when you do a sit-up, or see other funny protrusions, get thyself repaired! ASAP! Consult a plastic surgeon! They seem to be the only people who can diagnose! Don't let it go and pay a higher price. Death could be the price you pay!
Nobody told me this before.
I am out of the belly band and into body suits. I am cheating - I am wearing size 42. But I can wear size 40 - the stomach is still puffy - but less so. While it remains this way, I choose comfort. I'll worry about style later.
I am cheating on my diet (Well, it is Christmas!) because my clothes are falling off. I can wear a size 12 skirt. My chest just hasn't caught up. I may now tip over easily. Like a Dinky bird.
So I snitch things that aren't on the diet list. I don't even like candy anymore. Chocolate chip cookies hold no real taste treat - even the dough was not as I used to remember it. Pumpkin pie was OK in small amounts. I like stuffing - my stuffing - but not in quantity. I wanted turkey. Celery. The others things need to go away now that I've figured out my peculiar subconscious drive. Curable by sewing new clothes that fit the new, odd shape.
My mind is a strange and wondrous thing.
I can drive with my toes pointing forward now. No more splayed feet. Every woman who has had a child and had to drive within 10 days knows about this routine. How our bodies find muscles to do the work of those temporarily resting or in shock.
I lift myself out of the tub with arm muscles. I roll off the couch and out of bed and use my thigh muscles to lift myself - leaning on my knees. I hesitated to take a bath because I wasn't sure I would be able to get back out of the tub.
Sneezing and coughing are still major challenges. And, of course, I caught a cold the minute I left the hospital.
And bending over is still a giraffe-like posture. Ever seen a Giraffe drink? They spread their forelegs apart in the start of a split to they can reach the ground. I have to move that way. My floor remains unscrubbed.
I am off pain medication.
I took one Vicodan, 2 Alieves and 4 Tylenols. Then nothing. (No, not all at once!)
I try to stay up and walk or do things. Easy to do since the house remains under construction. I try to lightly nap. I am even behind in my reading! Although I did get through my new P. D. James and Martha Grimes British murder mysteries.
I drag things. I move small loads. It takes time. It is good exercise but slow going. It can be very frustrating.
But joy reins!
I got to take a bath!
I have forgone this - staying in the shower - until today.
What joy!
Bubbles!
Warm water!
Well, in the morning it can't be hot since the tub was freezing and the water heater is outside the house. It is not California weather here - it is more like New England. Cold. Cold. Cold.
The fog lifted. For the moment.
So I took a bubble bath while my son was still in the house (he works) and began the long process of peeling adhesive off my skin. From all those butterfly tape strips they used in place of stitches.
And I got to shave my legs from a sitting position using Caress bubbles! Beats standing on one leg while trying to balance on the shower door and holding up the other one with one hand so you can shave it with the other. Yep. You run out of hands!
This was normalcy. Thick bubbles. Warm. Relaxed. Smooth skin at last.
Men won't understand this but this is a great joy to a woman.
I have green and purple bruises still on the abdomen - fading slowly. A twinge once in awhile if I forget and try to lift or move wrong.
There is a mark where the drain was stuck in my side. I am puckered and twisted up at the bra line - where they tied everything together. It is supposed to recede somewhat. Now I look like half-kneaded bread dough.
And I have a thin red line that runs bra to crotch with a curve around what remains of my navel. Really artistically done. They tell me I will heal well. My face is still playing second cousin to a grated cheese! Still glows red when I am warm! I may heal - but when?
Let's just say bikinis are a thing of the past.
Unless I really want to freak somebody out.
Good thing I'm single.
God bless elastic!