Pain in the butt—literally

It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything. There is a reason. For those not wanting to read about this kind of pain—please be forewarned.

(Just so there is no doubt, I have been enjoying my girl. She is a blessing and for those who have Facebook, you will know that we relish in documenting her many expressions and discoveries. I do not have any baby blues…although spring and the arrival of Mother’s Day and the fact that Gordon would have been 1 and a ½ bring a host of emotions.) But there has been something that has truly been stealing my joy: a pain in the butt.

I have haemorrhoids and I thought they were responsible for incapacitating me. I did it all…sitz baths, painkillers, ointments with anaesthetic, sitting with a donut under me, going for walks. I feared going anywhere for long because I might have to go to the washroom. Even our trip to Jamaica was tainted with pain. I was glad mom was there, my personal nurse and empathizer. John has been wonderful too. I still feel like I’ve been selling him and Imogen short because of my pain. The pain would not allow me to stand for long—changing her diaper, doing dishes, making a meal, giving her a bath, singing at church…all just seemed well painful. Even laying down did not offer relief—I would lay in a way that would affect circulation in my legs and feet. It felt like I was starting on the path to neuropathy.

Finally I made an appointment with my doctor and let her know that I couldn’t take it any longer. She referred me to a surgeon. I was not looking forward to this meeting. I heard about haemorrhoidectomies and they are nasty in regards to pain. Surgery just seemed like not a good thing. I let my fears and worries about surgery take over; I worried about general anaesthetic, having to pump or have a friend be a wet nurse for Imogen, long recovery time, effects for future pregnancies…. If there was a fear I found one. I asked for prayers not to have surgery, knowing that surgeons are in the surgery business.

I met the right surgeon. The first thing he said…after a painful examination from his student was, “I know exactly what your problem is. This is an anal fissure.” This was hard to really make clear in my head. I thought (and knew) I had haemorrhoids. He did his best explaining what is was and how it affected me. “Everyone gets haemorrhoids. This is what you need to do and here is what I’m going to prescribe.” He also went on to say that there were a few things I should do before we would ever get to the point of surgery. And as for surgery, “Even I wouldn’t want to have it done. It has a two percent chance of incontinency. For the two percent of people that is too high a chance.” So the ointment he prescribed is a heart medication to improve circulation to the area and start the healing and some lidocaine for the pain for 4-6 weeks. I am also upping my fibre intake.

I am feeling worlds better. I met a surgeon who doesn’t want to perform surgery—prayers have been answered. The pain is not entirely gone but now after I apply the ointment, if that alone isn’t enough I can use an ice pack. Goodbye Ibuprofen and Tylenol 1! I am a different person because of this. I no longer need to wince when anyone talks about needing a kick in the derrière…still I probably will. I am so grateful to have an alternative and some relief.