I strongly suspect that this post is going to contain Too Much Information. So, if you are one of my kids, go clean your room! I already told you about that pile of laundry!
Other people, consider yourselves warned. I am highly medicated and I’m going to tell you a story. About my vagina.
Still here? K. Let me start by saying that I am like a medical anomaly. Things that no one is allergic to, I am allergic to. Simple procedures turn into nightmares. Medications “anyone can handle” make me want to crawl out of my own skin.
Five years ago, after the birth of Thing 3, I had an IUD placed.
The best thing about this, in my mind, was the whole “set it and forget it.” It lasts five years.
Fast forward a couple of years and I was at the lady doctor for regularly scheduled maintenance and…they couldn’t find the IUD.
Um…what? Where in the hell could it have gone? Eventually, I was assured that it was all good, even though my doctor at the time admitted that she “had no idea” how we’d get it out when the time came. I think she basically called my uterus a black hole.
Okay, so now my five years are up and it’s time to find this little bastard and get it out.
I had to have an ultrasound to locate it which, again, made me feel like my uterus was being called bad names. (I might be overly sensitive.) Anyway. So the doctor says he’s going to use these giant pliers forceps to grasp the thing and pull it out.
But first, he was going to numb me up down there, “much like the numbing shots you get at the dentist.” Yeah. Only IN MY VAGINA!
It hurt. Next they had to open my cervix. You may know this as cervical dilatation, or what happens WHEN A BABY COMES OUT.
It hurt.
He finally got done stabbing me with various instruments of torture and said I should be good to go. Except I was shaking and pale and about to pass the fuck out.
Eventually I recovered enough to get out of there and my mom took me shopping, because ouch.
Once we got to the store I quickly realized my limitations and ended up driving this sweet ride through the store:
We got home and I went directly to bed. To give you some idea of the amount of pain I was in, I dreamt that I was being shot three times in the stomach, then I would pull the bullets out and get shot three times again. Over and over.
I woke up around 10 p.m. and thought I was dying. (This happens pretty frequently.) I realized then that I couldn’t pee and, in fact, had not been able to pee since I’d had the war on my insides simple procedure performed earlier that day.
The next morning I called the doctor’s office and the nurse I spoke to told me to go to the emergency room. I told her that I was really hoping she would just tell me to go back to bed. She did not seem to find me amusing at all, which was sad, ’cause I’m pretty funny y’all. Anyway, I politely declined the ER and eventually had my mom drive me back to the doctor.
Apparently, somehow because my body hates me when my cervix was getting numbed, my pee-control nerve got numbed too. (I know, these medical terms I’m using are difficult to comprehend, just bear with me.) Also, my bitchy uterus considers the new IUD a little invader and wants it out, and that’s why I’m being shot repeatedly in the guts cramping. I was told that normally this doesn’t happen. Normally, a person would only cramp for 30 minutes or so. So, to stop the cramping, the doctor prescribed me some medicine which I’m allergic to and now here I am, with a numb pee-button and an angry uterus.
The moral of this story is:
How the fuck should I know, I can’t even pee right.
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