I'm going to write about something, um, uncomfortable.
Something that's embarrassing.
Something that bloggers don't normally write about.
I'm going to write about . . .
Yes, poop. BMs. You know, number 2. The thing we all do every day and take for granted. And the thing that I've struggled with the most during my recovery. Don't keep reading if you don't want to know about my poop saga.
Leading up to the surgery I really tried to "will" myself to go so I would have empty bowels during the lap. But that didn't happen. I think I put too much pressure on myself because I didn't go at all on Wednesday. Or Thursday. Or Friday. So by Saturday, I was eating stool softeners like candy. I managed to eek out a little on Saturday morning. By Sunday, I wanted to die. After getting out of the shower on Sunday night, I began experiencing the worst pains in my entire life in my bowels.
The pains made me shaky. They gave me the chills. I was covered in sweat. I felt so full, I wanted to vomit. I did finally go, but I knew I didn't want to go through that feeling ever again. So, ladies and gentlemen, my dear husband went to Walgreens and picked up a gift for me on the way home from work yesterday: laxatives.
Thankfully, he bought me the pill version so I wouldn't have to eat any nasty chocolates.
Now I've never taken a laxative in my life. And I had never planned on it. But I knew I needed something so I wouldn't be screaming in agony again. So I took one before bed. Oh. my. God. That's all it took I can *finally* go normally! My tummy feels wonderful this afternoon. Amazing, even. Yeah, I'm still sore. And yeah, I'm still bleeding. But at least I can go to the bathroom like a normal human being.
I doubt I'll even use the 23 other pills sitting in my cabinet, but it was worth the entire box.
Ahhhhh, the joys of infertility.