There is not a lot of good to say about a 4-plus inch incision in your ass. It makes doing just about anything far more difficult than you can imagine. We just don't realize how much work and movement our butts do all the time, until every movement it makes comes with pain and twinges. Being over a month post-op, my energy level and general health seem to be pretty good. Unfortunately there is not a lot I can do with that energy level. Walking around a lot is too much butt movement; yoga or other exercise is too much butt stretching; riding in a car is too much butt bouncing, and forget attempting to drive my manual; sitting in an upright position is too much butt pressure; etc. Comfort is not in the cards. I'm pretty well known for not keeping still. But having to switch positions and rearrange every 15-20 minutes is really pushing my old standards. It's like my ass has a severe case of ADD, and they just don't make pills for that. Or at least not the kind they send you home with.
Having never been sick much before my diagnosis and never having any surgery even close to this magnitude, I was sorely prepared for the aftermath. It's amazing how the littlest things can become so difficult and, consequently, so blasted annoying. Like socks. I mean think about putting on your socks. How far up do you have to cock your leg to easily put them on? Yeah. Not so easy now with a stitched up bum. And forget tying the shoes. Thank the gods it is sandal season! You get pretty creative figuring out how to do stuff. But to be honest, I like the challenge of trying to figure out how to get the things done that I want. I could just ask. But I am far too damned independent minded to do that as often as I should. That's why I have good friends who scold me when I try to do it all myself. And I thank them for their chiding.
Right now I'm a bit bummed because my twinge-y bum doesn't have the wherewithal to handle a flight down to Texas this weekend for my great aunt's funeral. An amazing, fun, energy-filled woman that I've always adored. And although no one in the family would expect me to make the trip, I would have chosen to. So... Aunt Lee, I love you and you will be sorely missed by so many. Your bright light may have left this world, but we are all better for having basked in it.