Today was the surgical consult for E’s, um, male issues.
First, can I ask why it is, when you go to a doctor’s office, that they don’t warn you if they are running behind? I showed up at the appointed hour, checked in with no one else in the waiting room, and was taken back to a
holding cell exam room. I was told that a resident would come in, followed by the surgeon. After about forty-five minutes of nary a doctor-figure in sight, I went to the front to ask just how far behind the doctor was. He overheard the conversation, told me I was next to see him, and was in the room with me within a matter of minutes. The resident never came.
So, anyhow, E~ does have adhesions. The surgeon felt that, in some areas, it went beyond adhesions to full-blown grown together skin. He said that he could try to deal with it in the office, but he didn’t think it would work and it would be very painful for E~. I decided to go with his recommendation, which was to schedule surgery. I’m not fond of this option, since it will require general anesthetic, but I also didn’t want to put E~ through something that, um, personal and painful if the doctor didn’t believe it was going to work. The surgery will only take a couple of minutes, so he will only be under briefly. The surgeon said he wasn’t concerned about using anesthetic on E~ since he is a big and healthy baby. But he’s my baby–I worry.
Because of how long I sat waiting in the doctor’s office, I had a real rush to get to my massage appointment on time. Then I got lost, causing me to show up half an hour late. I hate doing that. She was really understanding, especially since I called when I realized I was going to be late. But still, I hate messing up people’s schedules.
It turns out that the massage therapist had a son who had to be operated on for the same kind of adhesions. Serendipitous and comforting. His surgery went well, and she assured me that it was no big deal.
It also turns out that I am a bigger mess than I thought I was (and I knew I was a mess). You know how you think of that nice, comforting massage where you practically fall asleep on the table because it is so relaxing? That’s not what you get when you’re all jacked up. I had a lot of tensing and “ow”ing while she worked on me. My hips were in such bad shape from toting a baby around that it honestly felt like she was shoving a metal rod into them when she pushed on the muscle with her finger. It even hurt when she massaged my one forearm (I remembered afterwards that the reason I started using a sling was that I had been getting shooting pains in that area when carrying the boy). I told Sean to not be surprised if she told him what a mess I am next time he sees her (they are in a networking group together). It got to the point that she was laughing about just how bad I was. Progress was made, but it may require Tylenol tomorrow to counter the side-effects of progress.
Yep–motherhood is rough on a gal.