Disclaimer — if you don’t want to read stuff about the human body or if you get grossed out easily, you might want to wait for when I write about cosmetics or food or other vital topics in the future.
So it’s been 2-1/2 weeks since the surgery. The operation went fine. Recovery is going well according to my doctor. I thought that the physical limitations post-surgery would be hard, and I was right: it’s tough being so limited physically, but I’m dealing with that. Â What I didn’t count on was the emotional impact of my bladder not working after surgery.
I left the hospital with a catheter. I’d thought this was a remote possibility. I’ve since learned that 90% of people who have the surgery I had leave with one. And the surgery I had is no joke. The specifics are: hysterectomy, 2 internal hernias repaired, bladder repositioned and supported with mesh. So it makes sense that my bladder could take some time to heal. And after a day of having the catheter, and with the help of my amazingly supportive and not grossed out husband, I came to see it as interesting and unusual. I carried around the big bag in a Lululemon shopping bag, but I also had a sporty leg bag for more discretion. The downsides to the sporty model are: 1) it has to be emptied every 30 to 45 minutes, and b) having a bag of hot pee on your leg takes some getting used to. But things were going along ok, and I was super tired so I just stayed home a lot and focused on healing.
Last Monday, I went to have the catheter removed. They warned me that if I wasn’t able to pee on my own, or could just pee a little bit, that was a BIG DEAL and I needed to return to the drs office. Well, that’s what happened, so after a few short hours of freedom, I went back to have the catheter re-inserted. This was hard to take. My inner 3-year-old wanted to have a huge tantrum about it. But it is what it is, right? So I had the catheter for another week. This became an emotional issue when I went to a housewarming party. I wanted to go to the party because I love the people who’ve moved, but I felt vulnerable and exposed showing up with a bag on my leg, even though nobody could see it. We didn’t stay long.
Three days ago I went to have the catheter removed again. And yes, they removed it. But then they delivered the bad news: I would have to catheterize myself every time I pee. And I need to measure and record what comes out naturally and what comes out via catheter. I’m a Fear The Walking Dead fan, and as a character said on Sunday’s night’s episode, “What new fresh level of hell is this?” I know that’s dramatic, and awful things are happening to people all over, and this is a byproduct of a surgery I chose to do. But it’s still tough.
I didn’t know you could catheterize yourself, but indeed you can, and that’s what I’ve been doing. If you want to know how it’s done, you’ll have to find that for yourself, but here are a few things I can tell you:
- It is not painful.
- It requires some repetition to do it with ease.
- I have not done it enough to do it with ease.
- Start to finish the process, including measuring output, takes between 3 and 10 minutes.
A byproduct of this new way of peeing has been a self-imposed isolation. Why? Because having to do this feels humiliating. And the idea of dealing with this anywhere but at home? Oh hell no! When looked at with logic this makes no sense. This is a physical limitation brought on by surgery. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. But knowing that hasn’t changed how I feel when I think of having to do this (self catheterizing) out in the world.
Yesterday a friend called to see how I was doing. Poor friend. She got to hear the whole saga. She said she understood not wanting to do this in public and she understood how emotionally tough this could be, but she didn’t understand the humiliation. (This friend is a therapist so she has a way of getting right to the essence of things. I’m grateful for this.) I said, “If our situations were reversed I would have only love and compassion for you, so I’m not sure I understand it either.” But after we talked I considered the situation from that vantage point again: what would I think about somebody who had surgery and then ended up where I am? And I realized not only would I have no judgement, but I would have tremendous respect for someone who could, despite all the very real feelings and fears, continue to live her life and not let this stop her.
So today I’m going to live my life. Even though I will probably have to deal with this outside of my home. Even though I’m frightened. Even though just thinking about it makes me a little short of breath. I’ll let you know how it goes. But right now I have to get ready for the day.