I've basically narrowed it down to Genesis 3:16. It's just part of the curse that we got in the garden when God told Eve that He "would intensify the pangs of your childbearing; in pain shall you bring forth children".

They (...for the life of me, I can never figure out who "they" are. But they...) forget to tell you about this common affliction that develops during pregnancy. Forget the fact that you hurl your guts up for the first three months, start nesting and obsess about everything, swell up and retain water like a camel, and after all of that, they expect you to push a bowling ball-sized baby out of an opening the size of a quarter. No, the REAL problem is that they forget to tell you about the inevitable constipation that is going to give you a wicked case of hemorrhoids! Even saying the word hemorrhoid gives me the creeps. It's not fun to say like tennis elbow or even herniated disc. At least you were most likely enjoying yourself when you got those injuries. This is a condition that is so embarrassing that you swear your husband to complete secrecy. He won't admit it, but inside I think he's slightly amused, and I just can't actually catch him laughing. Mostly, he's just thinking, "I'm glad it's her and not me!” Wimp.

When it gets really bad, you have to go see a specialist. The humiliation starts as soon as you enter the reception area of the doctor's office. You see the other victims - oops, I mean people, waiting there and you can just imagine that they're thinking. "Hey, I know why you're here"..."Well, Buddy, I know why you're here, TOO!" You don't even want to look anyone in the eye at this point. You just sign in and hide behind your magazine. Of course, when it's your turn, the receptionist calls your name really loud and blows your cover. And if you don't immediately get up, she'll do it again. But, at least you get to go back and meet your doctor in his office, face to face, before he examines you. Because afterwards, you'll be completely mortified. Besides, this is a perfect reason to follow what they say about first impressions.

Next, the nurse gives you some stylish paper clothes to wear. They put you in a kneeling position, face down on the magic table. They hike your butt up in the air, and put a big spotlight on it... like it was a piece of art. Gee, that's flattering. Any remaining dignity you had left is certainly gone now. Now it's time for the Gastroenterologist ("GI Joe”) to go where no man has gone before and check out the alien life that has taken up residence in your rear end.

So there he is ...with his mask, face shield, gloves, and torture instruments - telling you all of the stuff that's wrong with your anatomy. On one hand, you just want to run away and hide in the corner, but then you remember how miserable you are and you actually NEED his help. Finally, they let you get dressed and you get to go talk to him face-to-face in his office again. This is where he tells you all of the stuff that's required to fix your um... problem. Then you find out that there's no escape. So reluctantly, you surrender to his battle plan and try to come to grips with the reality of what's about to happen to you.

As for me, one of the risks he warned me about was a 5% chance of permanent incontinence. WHAT?!?! I kept thinking, "Lord, I can't risk THAT!! I would have to wear diapers the rest of my life. Haven't I already been humiliated enough? Isn't it someone else's turn now?" The fear and anxiety turned me into a complete basket case. Of course, I'm better now, just knowing that it's over and everything is where it's supposed to be. With all the TV documentaries and reality shows out there, watching them can really undermine the confidence and trust you put in the hands of medical personnel. There's always the chance that you'll wake up with the wrong surgery. On the Discovery Channel I once

saw a true story of a patient who went in for a leg amputation. When he woke up, they had actually removed the WRONG LEG!! How does this stuff happen? In my case, what if I woke up with, let's say, a colostomy? It's bad enough to have the problem that I do down south, but now I've got double trouble!

So finally, I submitted to his plan and was taken to the M.A.S.H. unit for a hemorrohoidectomy, fissurectomy, and sphincterotomy. Don't worry if you can't pronounce them correctly. They're just there to make the doctors sound really smart so they can charge you more money. The last two procedures involved repairing a chronic fissure (tear) in my "you know where”. The doctor says that the tear won't heal because my sphincter muscle (gee, another fun word) is too tight. Upon hearing that, I snickered under my breath and the doctor gave me a puzzled look. I said, "So, you're telling me that I'm an OFFICIAL Tight A** and that it is actually documented on my chart?” He just nodded yes and all the while, he's thinking I'm the biggest weirdo he's ever met! The funniest part is that my friends and family could have told him that I was a tight a** without even looking at my butt. So, this tear in my derriere would require him to loosen the sphincter muscle so it could heal properly. My only thought was, "Great... a whole new connotation for a loose woman.”

They have named the first week after surgery 'Hell week', and believe me, now I know why! But now that the surgery is over, I'm relieved (boy am I) that from now on, I'll just continue to get better from here on out (there I go with the puns again). HOWEVER, (here comes the mushy part) ...I would do it all over again if I knew that I'd wind up with my son. It was worth everything. All of the agony, grief, humiliation, and embarrassment. And now, I've got war stories. Because I'm sure at some point in my life I'll need some attention or I'll need ammunition to win an argument - and those stories will come in handy. I can say, "Young man, do you not realize what I had to go through for you?” Yep, a little guilt and manipulation can go a long way if you can't actually win on your own merit.

So here's the real question. What drives someone to be a Gastroenterologist anyway? You get to Medical School and everyone is deciding on which specialty to choose... Orthopedics, Allergies & Immunology, Endocrinology, and even Gynecology. But then you have this guy that says, "Gee, I want to look at people's butts all day". Yes, there is a definite need for them and I'm glad they're there, but exactly how do you end up with that specialty? And then, do you go home from work and say, "Honey, I'm home... Tough day at the office... So, what's for dinner?" HUH??? How do you even eat after being at work all day? That kind of stuff will give you nightmares! And what about meeting people in a social situation, like a dinner party. When people ask about your work, what exactly do you tell them? Do you give a vague answer and say you specialize in digestive disorders? ...Because, if you're really honest... no one would even want to shake your hand!!

© 2006 by Susan Fletcher

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