As the vagina turns

My vagina has more drama than the afternoon soap operas.  Lots of you have asked how my vagina is doing.  After my vagina surgery and subsequent horrible recovery there seems to be an enormous interest in what’s going on “down there.”  My friend Monica’s husband even asked for a “Toolee” update when I went underground for a few days.  I wish there was as much interest in my vagina when I was in my 20′s, back then I couldn’t buy an inquiry.  It’s the truth.    When I was approaching 30 my Mother asked, very tenderly, if I was a lesbian.  She also went on to include that she would unconditionally accept me and my “friends.”  It was all very sweet, but I had to disappoint her and tell her I wasn’t gay, neither men nor women were interested in dating me. I was just a single woman, approaching 30.   I think my Mom was just trying to double her odds of getting a grandchild out of me.  It didn’t matter, she wanted me married and pregnant.

If a tree could have married me and got me pregnant she would of asked if I liked bark, and accepted us both, splinters and all.

Just the opposite is true now, seems everyone wants a peek at the action.  Especially if you are a doctor, wear a white coat, and work at Kaiser Hospital.   You see after my vaginal surgery to repair the stitch line and tearing due to my 9 lb. 11oz. son’s birth, something went VERY awry.  I was not healing normally.  I was bruised, had intense itching, constant throbbing, and an entire week after the procedure my vagina was still so swollen it looked like I was baking bread in my underwear. I couldn’t sleep, pick up Lucas, or sit.  Wooden chairs and penises were enemies.

I became a frequent “spreader and scoot on downer” at Kaiser.  The doctors tried everything: Vicodin, Codeine, numbing cream so I could pee, antibiotics, steroid foam, yeast infection treatments, ice packs, nothing worked.  They could not figure out why I was in agony and not healing properly.  I was in so much pain, I even went to the ER on a SUNDAY.  This is where a Dr. Dakota (sounds pornish) complimented me on my smile before he examined my poor swollen vagina.  I thought to myself,  “Dr. Dakota, you are a naive man.  You spoke too soon…just wait till you see my OTHER pair of lips.”  Turns out Dr. Dakota thought it might be a fistula.  Curious what a fistula is?  Me too…and I asked.

Me:  “What’s a fistula, sounds terrible.”

Dr. Dakota:  “Basically it is a hole between your rectal and vaginal wall.”

Me:  Already getting suspicious of where this was going. ”How do you check for a fistula?”

Dr. Dakota:  ”basically…..”

Me: “basically…..what?…..”

Dr. Dakota:  “basically I put my finger up your butt and press against your vaginal and rectal wall, AND if your vagina poops poop you have a fistula.”

Me: (sigh) “Let me guess….scoot on down.”

So that is exactly what I did.  I scooted and he inserted.  One gloved finger pressed against my vaginal and rectal wall later…no leaky faucet.  My vagina, in fact, did NOT poop poop.  No big surprise, no fistula, and still no correct diagnosis.  He told me to see my OB/GYN in the morning.  I felt cheap.  This guy basically hits on me and then five minutes later shoves his finger up my butt and not so much as a cocktail first.  In some countries we would be married.  My sore vagina and now my sore ass beat a quick retreat from Kaiser, no better than we entered.

It wasn’t until the next day that I found salvation in the form of a kind little doctor whom I had never met before.  I began to think I was having an allergic reaction to the stitches.  I mentioned that to the doctor and that sweet angel of a woman agreed and she very carefully took my stitches out!!!!!  Within 15 minutes I was feeling so much better, and an hour later it was as if Jesus (or Oprah) performed a miracle and healed me on the spot.  Release the doves, I thought.  Sound the trumpets, alert the media, I WAS HEALED!!!!   I thought at any moment I was going to start talking in tongue, that is how quickly I felt better and how relieved I was.

No more vagina drama. Save it for the theater, the afternoon soap operas, or as I like to tell my boys, “no drama for the Mama!”

Um…OUCH!  Thank you, Meggan, for this sobbering yet funny as heck Three Day Weekend submission.  Find Meggan at her personal blog, Meggansamom, as well as on twitter!