So today, I regress. Did I ever happen to mention that I had my tailbone removed???
I was reading another diary yesterday that reminded me of the experience, so I am going to share.
First of all, let me tell you something about David. He is a wonderful husband, and father. But, there is one thing that he is missing.
That is: Empathy. He cannot imagine himself (or perhaps doesn't attempt to) in anyone else's shoes but his own.
He is probably going to be less enthusiastic about this story... I might even catch some heat, but this is my life and honey, you are gonna have to deal!
I digress...
Back in May (I think), I went into the hospital to have my tailbone removed. Some of you long time readers might recall me breaking it snowboarding the first year Dave and I were married. Well, after having two children and rebreaking it during childbirth, it bugged the heck out of me.
It hurt to sit through a movie, church, dinner. I was constantly shifting around in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position. I thought for sure that those sitting around me would think I was suffering from hemroids, which was wayyy more embarrassing. You know those comercials for preperation-H? That was me, except it wasn't the 'rhoids, it was the tail.
I found of from the surgeon that my tailbone was so broken, it was kind of floating around in my pelvis AND that I could have it removed which would most likely, help me with the pain. The doc said they are like fingernails, you can clip em right off - they are that useless (the question I am asking now is why do we have the tails in the first place?).
What no one bothered to tell me, was how completely excrutiating this operation was, and how long EXACTLY it would be before I was sitting again comfortably.
The doc said three weeks. YEAH RIGHT.
I had a dream before I went in for the surgery, it was me waking up in the most horrible pain in my life.
It scared me a bit but I didn't think too much of it... until I woke up.
It felt like someone had decided that my tailbone needed to be "demo-d", (I know, I know, I watch wayyy to many house flipping shows), and a hammer was the tool of choice. LIKE SOMEONE WAS STANDING ON MY BACK, HITTING ME OVER AND OVER WITH A HAMMER DIRECTLY ON MY COCCYX. And this wasn't just any person, not me with my non-existant muscles, this was THE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD, THE WORLDS STRONGEST MAN. Take your pick. Not only that, but he is at the county fair trying to hit the little thingy (you know, you watch movies) to make the bell ring.
For you ladies who have had babies... natural childbirth would be a better comparison... it is about 1000 X worse.
YUP. I would have labor twenty times over without the epidural.
I was stomach down on the gurney, waking up with the strongest man pounding on my tailbone, and feeling like my internal organs wanted to come out through my nose and mouth and do you think I got so much as a "honey, are you okay? I will take care of you" or even a "hi sweetheart". It was more of a: hey, this is kind of disrupting my t.v. watching, all this moaning and groaning that you are doing.
For the next few hours, as I tried not smother myself in the horribly uncomfortable gurney to get rid of the pain and nausea, I heard things like:
"Common get up. You will feel better if you walk around."
"I am so tired of being in the hospital. Get up and walk around so we can go home."
"You will feel better once we are at home."
If I could have moved a finger, I would have used it to jab him in the eye.
Didn't he notice that the nurses had shot two needles full of morphine into my hip? That my blood pressure was so low they were giving me meds for that? That I was dry heaving into the pink bowl FROM MY STOMACH BECAUSE I COULDN'T EVEN ROLL ONTO MY SIDE??? Yeah, there are going to be alot of caps used in this entry. It was that kind of experience.
I was crying and sick and mad at him. Even the nurses felt sorry for me and they have seen it time and time again.
Then came the comment that broke the camel's back (or tailbone), "I was cut open bigtime when I had cancer and I STILL wasn't even this bad!"
Then the nurse decided to come to my defense after his horrible lack of compassion;
"I don't mean to minimize the surgery you had for your cancer, it must have been painful but this... this is BONE pain. She just had her tailbone cut off with a scalpel. BONE pain is some of the worst pain you can have."
THANK YOU NURSE! Then they decided to admit me so they could give me some serious painkiller (whatever it was, there was no way I was walking out of there and it was supposed to be outpatient surgery). Which was great, because the thought of having to get up and into a wheelchair was enough to make me start dryheaving all over again.
Dave has been in a lot of trouble since that incident FOR that incident. He has since paid the price of being a dork and I am sure the next time I am cut open, he will be much more loving and understanding. Even if he is pretending.
And that three weeks I couldn't sit down??? MORE LIKE FIVE! And then three more weeks of sitting on my hip off to the side.
And don't even get me started about the waiting room at the doctors office where you always have to wait 40 minutes... and it hurts to stand, and there are NO COUCHES, only little chairs where you have to sit straight up.
I almost passed out when he finally took out the stitches, a little too late I might add - they were in a VERY sensitive area where they would be hidden (I am sure you can figure that out).