Having children has been one of the most rewarding experiences in my life but the process of giving birth to them left me with a few unpleasant reminders of their journey to get here. I am a very petite woman and having an extra 20 pounds of anything anywhere on me and I'm gonna feel it. Take a large portion of that weight and apply it internally to my nether regions and all hell breaks loose. What the hell am I talking about, you ask? Hemorrhoids. Yep. Big ones. All around my cute little patootie. Bulging, throbbing masses of rectal fun all from incubating and then releasing my spawn into this world. So where is the fuck up? It all started this past Wednesday.
I had finally gone ahead and scheduled surgery to remove the unsightly flaps of extra skin from my anus. (At this point the hemorrhoids had receded and turned into skin tags.) The surgery goes well and I'm sent home after a few hours with plenty of narcotic pain relievers, valium and lidocaine ointment to keep everything feeling peachy down there. I actually felt pretty great other than having a sore throat from being intubated for the anesthesia. Not wanting to encounter any unnecessary pain I decide to start taking the Percocet and Valium every 4 hours as prescribed. Let me tell you, I could not be any more H A double P Y with life at this point. Day 1 after surgery was a success.
Day 2: I'm still feeling A-OK as far as surgery pain but as the day went on I could tell that my throat pain was likely a combination of the intubation and a cold that I had managed to pick up from one of my kids. My throat was sore as hell so I was barely able to talk but I didn't care. I was enjoying my drug induced bliss and my SO was picking up my slack by taking care of the kids and catering to my every whispered need. I think my kids and SO also enjoyed my silence more than they're willing to admit. My SO also had fun telling and texting me various butt related jokes throughout the entire day. (He's got the humor level of a 12 year old boy.)
Fast forward to that evening. I head off to bed with enough supplies to last me through the night and hopefully late into the next morning. I had my Percocet, Valium, Colace (for easier pooping), heating pad and extra pillows. I carefully spend the next few minutes crafting the perfect little sleep nest out of pillows and blankets to achieve maximum anal comfort for the next 8 to 12 hours. Everything I need is perfectly within reach. Except for my water bottle. I forgot to bring it in. Shit.
No way in hell am I getting out of bed to get it. I was way too comfortable for that. Seeing as I couldn't yell for my SO to bring it to me I decide to grab my phone and text him. After a few minutes I realize he either doesn't have his phone with him or can't hear it. Fuck. I look around to see if there's any way to get his attention when I see the handle of my bath backbrush that I use for scratching my back. Perfect. It's long enough to reach above the headboard and tap the wall above me. (living room is on the other side of the wall.)
tap tap tap
A few seconds later and my SO is standing in the doorway. Woo hoo! It worked! He brought my water bottle and went back to watching tv. I close my eyes and prepare for a long, uninterrupted night of sleep. And then I remembered that I wouldn't be getting up to get my kid to school and that my SO would have to set his alarm instead. Dammit.
tap tap tap
A few seconds later and my SO reappears in the doorway. And this is where my fuck up actually happens. I was expecting him to be somewhat comedically irritated by having to get up again because he always gives me shit about being a pain in his ass. (jokingly, of course) What I was not expecting was the actual words that came out of his mouth at that moment.
"Gimme that damn stick."
Yup. That's it. Out of context it's not funny at all. Hell, even with context most of you are thinking it's not even funny. But there I was, lying in bed high as a kite, and I knew exactly what he was implying when he said that. All I could picture was my butthole being shish-ka-bobbed by my backbrush stick thingie. That's when I started giggling. It was the kind of runaway giggles that often happen at the most inappropriate places and there was just no stopping them. Until I felt it. It felt as though Satan himself had stuck his fiery trident straight up my ass. Little did I know how much a person's butthole is involved when laughing.
Apparently I had laughed so hard that I ripped open my stitches and I'm not able to see the surgeon until tomorrow. Until then I am desperately trying not to cough my ass off because that little sore throat turned into a full blown cold with chest congestion. But I was able to see my primary doctor and get a script for cough syrup with codeine so I've got that going for me, I guess...
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