I woke up Tuesday morning pumped and ready to do my fleet enema to finish prepping for surgery. Once I was done washing my disastrous crack, I flexed my muscles in the mirror to remind myself to be strong before I got dressed in some comfortable clothes, and then my mom drove me to the surgery center. Upon arriving I didn't even hesitate to jump out of the car and make my way toward this exciting crack-patch adventure. It took thirty minutes to fill out paperwork, sign my life away, and charge such a ridiculous amount for the procedure on my shiny credit card that it brought a tear to my eye. They let my mom come back with me where we were placed in a curtained off room and I was immediately told to strip. Normally, I would at least expect a conversation first or to be wined and dined, but since I was fasting for the procedure I can understand why they rushed right into getting me naked. They can't get enough of me... they keep scheduling me for more appointments so that I can take off my clothes.
While I could hear my doctor/surgeon making her rounds with other patients a nurse came in and asked if I wanted to do a urine sample or sign a paper stating I'm not pregnant. By some miracle I actually had to pee, so I climbed out of the hospital bed in my butt-flap gown and "poop" socks with turd emojis all over them and proudly offered to give her a sample of my urine. She tried to hook me up to the IV, but after rolling the needle a few times with no success, she called in the anesthesia specialist in to help her. I didn't yell at anyone because I know one of my callings is to be a pin cushion. Gosh darn it, I was the best damn pin cushion I could be. A little while later I was informed I wasn't pregnant. Someone throw me a party to celebrate not being pregnant!!! My doctor came in to give us the break down of what she planed to do. She said it's common for the rubber seton she'll place in the fistula to have to stay for up to 20 weeks for Crohn's patients to completely heal. blah, blah, yeah, do whatever you think is best. I trust my ass in your small, cold hands.
Someone injected something special into my IV line and I started feeling dazed as they rolled me to a different room. I remember thinking this is a very cluttered operating room before they had me roll onto a different table onto my belly with my arms above my head... and that's the last thing I remember before waking up to my mom and a nurse rushing me to wake up to get dressed. My doctor came in wearing her surgeon outfit. Great news: she searched for the fistula she saw last week, but there was no sign of it. No drainage seton was needed! She finally removed a skin tag that had been bugging her for two years. She flexed a stricture for the sigmoidoscopy and found another stricture further up with active disease. Since there wasn't a fistula, I think recovery will be easy. I'm just sore from the flex and bleeding from where the skin tag was removed. I'm on orders to limit activity for two weeks until my follow up appointment on the 29th.
I shouldn't be shocked, but I am. I'm just not accustomed to getting good news regarding these kinds of things.
P.S. I completely lost my voice afterwards.
