I find myself in an extremely unusual situation. On May 26th, I will voluntarily admit myself into the hospital. No broken bones, no emergency preventative procedures, just a choice that will change my life forever. Interestingly enough, this voluntary choice has caused more anxiety than all the others put together, seriously way too much time to think about it.
I am having a procedure called the Mitrofanoff, no science here, just vanity from the founding surgeon. Essentially this surgery will reroute my bladder so I can cath without transferring to the toilet, this gives me all sorts of new independence, including being able to use the bathroom in the public without my poor husband having to accompany me to the ladies room. Poor guy.
In addition to the independence and safety issues, having this procedure means I can wear whatever kind of pants I want, jeans, skinny pants, pants with zippers, really anything not associated with stretchy waistbands. I’m excited about the practical aspects of the procedure, but I am OVER THE MOON about not always looking like I’m headed to the gym. A bit of vanity is still hanging on in there.
This will likely end up being my longest hospital stay, and will likely involve real pain meds. Is it wrong that I’m actually curious about how my body will handle the heavier drugs? My priorities are a little out of whack.
I’m going to a new hospital this time. Lutheran Hospital… so, smaller, no med students coming by to curiously poke at me, I wonder what that will be like. Do you suppose they will let me hook up my music and my lavender diffuser? Good heavens, just writing that, I realized how high maintenance my comfort has become.
The best part of this whole process? The clear liquids only diet both before and after the surgery. So, there will be no barbeque for me on Memorial Day. However, if you want to come over and drink broth with me, I’m always excited for company.
Love to all of you, undoubtedly Doug will take pictures from the hospital since that seems to be his favorite photographic theme.
PS – I have a cold. Why is it easier for me to deal with an unidentified autoimmune disease, a complex leg fracture, and hours in the MRI machine than a stuffy nose?