As promised, here is part 2 of my operation story – My Recovery! If you haven’t read Part 1 yet, go ahead and check it out now before you read this one. It’s okay; I’ll wait.
Read it? Cool, I’ll get on with it then.
The Day Before
It was bizarre. I knew that I was nervous, but because I’m on an anti-depressant for my anxiety, I feel like my nervousness was muted slightly. Instead, I was a bit stroppy. Okay, fine, I was a complete bitch!
I also lost my appetite, which is very unlike me. I can typically eat for England (and Scotland…And Wales…). I’m a stress eater usually, but not this time!
After getting Little J in bed, I’d just settled down to watch Holby City (it’s a terrible program, I know! It’s called Holby Shitty in our house), and there was a little knock on the door. Daz and I did the typical, ‘Who could that be?’ look at each other.
It was my lovely bestest friends, Amy and Emily. They’d come over with flowers and Maltesers and to take my mind off the op for a bit. I honestly love them both so much ❤️
The Operation Day
I set an alarm for 6 am (!!!) so that I could have a drink of water before the 6:30 am cut-off. Even though I was awake at 6, I was still running late. When my Mother in Law Marion knocked on the door at quarter past 7, it was a mad rush to get ready on time! We had to be at the hospital by 7:45. Why am I never on time?! Thankfully, Marion got to the hospital on time!
Another big shoutout goes to Marion. She took me to the hospital, picked me up after the op, and looked after Little J for us. Love you, Mummy Marion 😍 Thank you.
Once I got there, I got changed into the lovely hospital gown, grabbed my Harry Potter book, and waited in the waiting room until it was my turn – 3 hours later!
When I was finally taken through to the operating theatre, the doctors asked me if I knew what surgery I was having that day. I proudly told them I was getting a designer Vagina! Have I no class?!
(The actual surgery that I was having done is called a Fentons Procedure. This is where the scar tissue is removed from the ‘offending’ area and stitched back up!)
Then it was time to be knocked out. I remember feeling the cold liquid creep up my arm, and the Anaesthetic started to take effect – I found it hilarious! I started giggling, telling all the doctors in the room that it felt like I was drunk.
It was only after the operation that one of the doctors told me that even after the full dose, I was still moving my arms about and giggling. They weren’t quite sure what to do!
So, as it turns out, I am a massive talker when I wake up from Anaesthetic. Chat, chat, chat, chat, chat. Even I remember thinking that I needed to shut up! The poor people that had to listen to me! I also tried sitting up the second I woke up, which was not a good idea!
I wasn’t feeling too sore and was home by about 4 pm, which I was quite happy about! When I got home and read the notes on my papers, apparently, my surgery was ‘uneventful’. I guess that’s a good thing? 🤷♀️
The Next Day
The next day I wasn’t feeling too bad, surprisingly! Don’t get me wrong, I was pretty sore and uncomfortable, but I could potter around the house a little. I felt confident at this point – recovery was going to be a breeze!
No. That was not the case.
Over the next few days, things didn’t improve AT ALL. That might be because I didn’t keep up to date with my painkillers. The confidence that I had felt earlier left me. Remind me – why did I want this surgery??
As a result of the recovery taking longer than expected and not leaving the house for a few days, my mental health has taken a bit of battering. I was feeling low, useless, and sorry for myself.
Luckily I have the most fantastic support network that I can call upon, and my lovely husband has been incredible throughout the entire process.
It’s now Thursday evening when I’m writing this, and I’ve had a great day recovery-wise. I’ve been able to move about and bend down, and I’m feeling pretty good.
For a while there, I did wonder why I wanted the surgery, but one week on, and I’m doing okay. I’ve had one week of discomfort for an issue that had been niggling at me for 18 months.
Anyone reading this that is suffering from an issue after giving birth that you’re embarrassed about – please go to the doctors and get it checked out. For a short amount of your own pain/embarrassment/discomfort, it really is worth getting it sorted. Remember – doctors look at different lady gardens, winkys, boobies, and bumholes every day. What’s going to make yours memorable?