You'll all be glad to know that I have survived the surgery after all. Not to say that I am completely recovered, but the worst of it is behind me *ahem* and it's (hopefully) only going to get better from here.
I had to suck it up and feel better, because we had already made plans BEFORE I scheduled the hemorrhoid surgery to go to Branson for a few days before school starts. Since we didn't have a real vacation this year, I demanded we do touristy stuff while we were there, rather than our usual M.O. of snacking, watching free cable, and being very, very lazy at my parents' lake house.
The first day, we all got up early (some naturally, some by force) and went to Whitewater. For one reason or another, we were all mad at each other by the time we got there, with me threatening that we would get in the car and go RIGHT HOME if everyone didn't start getting along and having FUN. And if they thought going back home SOUNDED like fun, they might want to think again, because it would be five days of boot camp hell if we went home. We stayed....
Any of the water park's rides are out of the question for me this year, since I don't want to do ANYTHING to threaten the integrity of that tram flap/tummy tuck. And since I forgot to check with my doctor's office about the combination of swimming pool water and a reasonably fresh incision, I thought it best not to go into the wave pool as well, leaving only the lazy river. With some none-too-graceful maneuvering, my son helped me launch myself into an inner tube with minimum discomfort. I carefully positioned myself so my stitched area was not dragging through the water and, dopey from the pain meds, I floated around and around and around the lazy river for over an hour and a half. It went relatively pain free, other than a few times when my stitched-up area got splashed with pool water. That kind of stung. Quite a lot. I spent the next hour or so playing my favorite game, "Fat or Pregnant," and doing some general people-watching, and then we left. That tuckered me out fairly well, and I took a long nap when I got back to the house.
After dinner and more pain meds, we were off to the next forced-fun item on the schedule - bumper boats. Let me preface this by saying that sometimes when I take the pain meds, they don't seem to affect me very much, but SOMETIMES, they make me feel gooooood. And this time, they made me feel VERY gooooood! So good, in fact, I decided I could just get out there and ride on a bumper boat myself. In hindsight, not such a good plan. Bumper boats are powered by a lawnmower motor. They are hot and noisy and puff gasoline exhaust in your face. The motor also causes the EXTREMELY HARD plastic seat to vibrate, which was very unpleasant. That, coupled with the constant splashing of water onto the boat seat, which funneled down the leg of my shorts and soaked my tender area, made for the longest bumper boat ride on record.
The next day's frivolities included breakfast out (yummy), a trip to Silver Dollar City (aborted because of too much traffic and was probably, in the long run, a very good thing), and a stop at the new Dewey Short Visitor's Center at Table Rock Dam (where the wind blew my skirt straight up a la Marilyn Monroe and gave the visitors inside and the fishermen outside quite a view of my underpants). Later in the evening, it was go-kart racing. And yes, I drove a go-kart. And no, it wasn't a good idea (especially since I was still wearing the skirt and it was still blowing straight upwards). I was NOT under the influence of pain meds at the time, so there really is no excuse for my decision to drive a go-kart OR to wear the skirt, nor was there an excuse for me when I tried to wedge myself in the driver's seat and buckle up, not realizing there was a booster seat behind my back that forced my knees up to my ears and once again made for a spectacular display of my underpants.
By the time the weekend was over, I finally felt I had turned a corner and was going to pull through this whole ordeal. I'm nearly pain-free, although anyone who remembers having a skinned knee might recall that after the pain is gone, the next step in the healing process is itching. Need I say more? I think not.
It's two weeks today since the hemorrhoid surgery, and the big question is, would I do it again, knowing what I know now? Hmmmm.... Not sure I know the answer to that, although it DID give me great fodder for blog posts. And there's no backsies, anyway. Onward and upward!