Stirring, yesterday morning, i am momentarilyh surprised to be greeted with a cry of “Happy Fanniversary!”
But i click, quickly enough.
Though it seems like a matter of weeks, it is now the first year anniversary of a surgical event that to many seemed, still seems, one of the biggest decisions you can take in your life….and to me was but a temporary inconcenience.
Funny how perspectives change. Looking back, i can sort of remember all the fuss around that “big day”. The endless parade of people checking to make sure i was sure: my own brief flutter,not because i had any doubts,but with so many others repeating them,you do end up wondering after a bit. The last minute hassle with my pct over funding for a quite separate, but unfortunately necessary pre-check to make sure i wasn’t suffering from some dread illness.
The waking to a sense of sheer joy, which may initially have been the morphine: but since its never quite left me in the 366 days since, is either a very bad over-reaction to the drug or a sign that
The pain – which mostly came from being forced to lie on my back,with no hope of sitting up, for hours and days on end (which like some peculiar exotic form of torture eventually took me close to screaming point).Though there WAS “the glitch”: an issue over some complex machine that went “ping” when it oughtn’t, leading the medical staff to miss that my urethra was blocked, and providing an extra dose of pain beyond anything i’d ever known before.
The quick tripback to theatre: instant relief.
Too, the liquid diet, which consisted blandly of endless cups of consommé and jelly. The glitch – which caused an extranightAnd for all the “moment” of that week, so quickly over, so quickly back to normality.
OK. A month or so glaring unhappily at the bruised and swollen site of the surgery: and a lot longer waiting for that to settle back to any form of ordinariness.
Regrets? Oh,yeah. Hundreds. As each and every day i am utterly bowled over by a body defect put right: regret only this procedure did not happen a lifetime sooner. Though that’s complex.An alternative reality in which some good stuff, too, espesh on the child front, would now be absent: andi wouldn’t wish them away.
And more of the same. On the day,i woke to a card from andrea wishing me “cuntgratulations”. It brought a smile to the lips of the TV crew following us round for documentary purposes…and caused ever soslight grief,as they pointed out that such a card was just not suitable viewing for a potentially sensitive audience. Yes, folks…they may contemplate surgery and the word “vagina”…but “cunt” isano-no!
And so a year on,she blogs again. Still disrespectful: but maybe some things do change…
One year on, we’re still working out what and how.