‘I get knocked down- but I get up again… you are never gonna keep me down…’ – Tubthumping by Chumbawamba

(I really should get those lyrics printed on a shirt… That particular line speaks to me…)

I have been recovering from yet another surgery that took place at the start of the month. Yes… Fistula surgery number 12? (I’ve lost track… there have been too many… five of these procedures alone have taken place in the past three years..but the majority span over the years since 2004)

I wish I could tell you that my recent surgery was successful- but it looks like it wasn’t and I am being told it is too risky to keep trying to cure my fistula problem. I took sick with an infection at the incision site too- so I have all these antibiotics that I have to force down my throat to cure that.

Luckily we caught it in time before it got worse. 

The past couple of weeks have been spent recovering in bed- taking it easy. I was so drugged up for the first week or so that all I did was sleep, scroll through the internet, watch Netflix, and entertain myself by taking ridiculous SnapChat selfies.

(Oh, and I also started a puppy search… which I had to put on hold because apparently I want to bring all the puppies home to live with me and my husband frowns upon that…) 

It was hard for me to concentrate on much of anything. 

Last week I started coming out of the ‘painkiller fog’ and was able to read and write again- more reading than writing. I did manage some outlines for some stories that I would like to write… the ideas came to me while I was recovering.

I also had to yet again, work on learning to sit without screaming or tearing my incision open.

(That’s fun) 

Now I am not in need of painkillers, and I can sit again- but am feeling ill from the antibiotics my surgeon prescribed to blast this infection. I was hoping to be ‘back to normal’ by now – but I am still rather sleepy and while I am no longer in terrible amounts of pain- I am extremely nauseated from the pills and my mouth tastes like I suck on pennies instead of the mint gum I keep chewing.

In a couple of days -my course of treatment will be over and I will celebrate by driving to Starbucks to pick up a ‘grande skinny vanilla latte’… as I haven’t been allowed caffeine or dairy and boy am I craving a small taste of luxury!

(Sorry Ginger-Ale- it has been swell- but we’re almost done now….) 

Truth Time:

I am incredibly upset and disappointed that my fistula isn’t ‘curable’.

After my recent follow up with my surgeon – I returned home to kick, scream and cry.

I was a hysterical mess.

When I calmed myself down-

I remembered the good:

My surgeon was able to remove MOST of the fistula. It is no longer the horseshoe it once was- however, there is this tiny bit of tract that is nestled up against my muscles… and it is far too risky to cut that muscle- I would be trading this problem for a worse one. He’s attempted other methods to rid me of this but they have all failed.

I didn’t go into the surgery thinking this would actually work, I am logical- I knew it was a stretch. I did however, go into it hoping for a bit of a miracle…and some answered prayer- alas I am not the recipient of one.

(I am a strong believer that miracles can happen… but they aren’t meant for everyone and instead of getting mad, blaming God or whatever deity you believe in, I don’t believe the anger at not having prayer answered is worth it- This stupid chronic pain in my ass is part of my story…whether I like it or not) 

All I can do is wait- and try living my best life. Maybe in time they will find a cure for these stupid (yes… I said ‘Stupid’) nuisances… but until then I will just have to wait to see what happens.

Time will tell.

Reflecting on all of this- I can’t help but wonder… 

Am I being punished for not being a very nice person in my youth?

(As I keep joking- maybe because I ‘am’ a pain in the ass… I am doomed to have an eternal pain in the ass…??) 

Do I go through this because maybe my journey will help others and it is part of some grand preordained plan? Maybe my case will be studied and will lend a hand in helping find a cure?

Is it just shit luck?

In a parallel universe- do I have a fistula as well or is Parallel Universe Irene all healthy- living it up in New York, sipping martinis, staring on Broadway and flirting with Channing Tatum when she can…

(Don’t mind me… my mind wanders…) 

I guess the bottom line is that we never know why we go through these kinds of circumstances – the ones that are out of our control- all that we can control is how we react to them.

I’m sad.

I’m tired.

I’m emotionally spent.

I’m hurting.

I’m frustrated.

I’m out of options for now.

I am going to own these emotions, feel them and work through them and while I do that, I am just going to keep singing that same ol’ line over and over again…

‘I get knocked down- but I get up again… you are never gonna keep me down…!’

Authors Note: If you are really curious as to what exactly a Fistula is and my personal struggle with it, I wrote a blog post about it a couple of years ago -you can read it here.