Rectal Stump Suctioning & Stomal Stenosis

A month ago maybe, I had my rectal stump suctioned out at my Swedish surgeon's office. He's the incredibly intelligent dude who talks to you like you are a human being, but he doesn't hold your hand and certainly doesn't fuck around.
So some peeps who have a total colectomy, every 2 weeks or something they'll have rectal drainage. It's just a smidge of clear jelly, as your intestine is still creating and shedding its lining and all that. Well, mine doesn't feel like following orders and so I went to his office for suction time.
Friends, neighbors... back when I was a teenager before my large intestine resection, I had to bend over ass naked on this table and a Dr stuck a looooong scissors up my asshole and took a SNIPPET of the inside tissue to test for something whatever. I WAS STILL AWAKE. I was given NO DRUGS. I was given NO WARNING. I began to have Vasovagel reaction from the pain, high-pitched noise in my ears drowning-out all sounds, my vision clouded and white, my body's blood pressure plummeting alarmingly. Yeah. So that was pretty fucked up, but this suction thing wasn't as bad as that but still by no means do I recommend it.
It's heavy on the ass-rape, and as I've never been one to travel the road of the difficult brown, I didn't kin much to my Swedish surgeon finding out just how much pain I could tollerate before I broke down completely. It was like a Saw movie.
So they lie you on your side with a sheet covering just the unclothed bottom half, then jam a tube up your no-no, then flush some liquid junk into it and suction it back out. I was shaking the whole time from pain and doing this thing I do when I'm really really hurting, where I kind of growl through my teeth. I've never been a screamer. I've never gotten scared and screamed, not even on rollercoasters. On rollercoasters, I get really sarcastic and start saying shit like "Oh boy. Here comes the big drop. Oh good. Okay. Great. Looks fun." I've even had people tell me to shut the fuck up, and rightfully so. But I don't scream. I got my foot run over by a car once. I just kind of looked down and said really quietly "oh." Like I'd stepped in dog shit. No... I think if I'd have stepped in dog shit, I might have had more of a reaction than that. But anyway, I don't scream, and though I get many tears in my eyes, I don't cry. It's shit for the vocal chords, and it's annoying as fuck to scream. I heard kids screaming all the time in my old neighborhood--you try and tell me with a straight face the sound of high-pitched little kids screams at 7 am on a Saturday morning is ever EVER on your top list of cherished noises to burn on that CD of Songs to Listen to for Peaceful Living.
I can't even lie, I dreamily contemplated murder.

Oh yeah--and while I'm mentioning fun facts I forgot to mention earlier, back when I still had my le loop stoma, my uncaring bitch of a first surgeon (Dr Asshole) checked for stenosis (narrowing of the small intestine due to strictures/scar tissue) by shoving his bloated finger down into my goddamned stoma opening. I now know what it feel like to be raped in the stomach. And once inside, the fucker kind of wiggled it around too, you know, just for fun. It was a strange sensation, to say the least. Not necessarily painful, as in it didn't totally hurt, but it's an uncomfortable feeling to say the least, to have someone dig around inside your guts while you're un-anaesthetised and quite aware and watching.

Not really a Rant, but hey. An Ileostomy ain't the worst.

I try to keep this a purely ostomy-related blog--you know, not updating you on my breakfast or minute-by-minute thoughts or whatever inane shit pops into my shattered skull--but I thought I should be honest about my other medical problems so you know where I proverbially "sit" on the scale of normalcy.

I can't remember how much I've talked about having a past UTI and as I'm packing to move my entire life to Canada in three days, don't have the time to look it up, but a year an a half ago, I acquired my first UTi that due to our shittastic health care in the USA, wasn't treated correctly for a long enough period of time with antibiotics. Because of this, it cropped up again a few days after the last measly dose of meds, and I was treated again, in the same paltry unforgivably near-sighted way.

Since then, I have had persistent urethra pain that is akin to have a hot meat-knife stabbed UP into your urethra... that little button you don't even usually notice on top of your Vag.
Out of all my surgeries, out of my accidents and jaw-breaking and even the funny stupid post on ripping our your vag hair... out of every recovery and every pain in my life, out of being crushed by a couple-ton horse even... genitalia pain like this... this kind of pain i live with every day is the absolute worst pain in my life. Nothing has driven me so close to the edge of suicide, has lead me to forget my dreams and consider there was no happiness left for me in my life than this kind of pain. Every waking moment. Even while I try to sleep... there is no medications that can quell this persistent pain. Not gabbapentin/neurontin, not detrol la, not even Tylenol 2/codeine or Oxycontin. Not even alcohol, although out of everything, at least alcohol sort of works better. No... i have left behind my dreams of having children or a job or even having a partially normal life. Every single day for most hours of the day, I am in a "sitz" bath, trying to soothe the damaged section of my body. This makes sex super painful, obviously, and I've never had a sex-related orgasm (I don't fake it with him, but I still don't ever want my husband to necessarily know that. I just don't talk about it) and I've been to every specialist out there. Everyone in the United States. Every Dr who knows about pelvic floor disorder, everyone who has worked with gynecology, every urologist, everyone.. .at the end of my long sessions of testing has shrugged at me.
"Don't know. Could be this or this but doesn't look like it."
Likely not IC.
Likely not paraurethral gland infection.
Likely not anything.
And NOT spasms from your pelvic floor.
Persistant acute chronic pain from damaged nerves maybe?
great. fuck you all .
I had my first Cudal-nerve injection at the clinic for pain management last fall. They put you tummy down on a narrow bed in a surgical suite, and using an x-ray live-time guided imagery above the base of your spine, jam a foot long needle into your Coccyx. I had that done many times over the course of months, but it never worked. I also went into physical therapist after another telling me there was nothing they could do for me.
Then I began having surgeries for my ileostomy.
Yesterday, i had my first pudental injection.
And now Imma tell you all about it.
After a wait of 4 hours for a 2 pm appointment, they finally took me back into the surgical suite at nearly 6 pm, when all the nurses kept bantering to me about was how "overworked" and "tired" they were, and how they wanted to go home for the weekend. The doctor came in, surprised that my hair was red despite it being so since about my fourth year of life when it changed from baby-blond, and snapped at one of his nurses to "get out of (his) damn way."
Oh, did I mention I lay face-down on the table for 45 minutes before he finally entered the room? yeah. fuck you doctor.

Here are your ass cheeks.

With that same foot-long needle, he went in on "exploratory" injection sites, jamming that needle in through my ass-cheeks into this place here:

And he proceeded to jam it in through my ass cheek to inject my nerve! But oops--wrong nerve. So he did it five more times! FUN!
Then they proceed onto the other ass cheek and repeat... as in above photo.

It's better than in the past were they went through the perineum or through the rectum, but it still hurts like those without spinal nerve pain can imagine.
BUT THE BEST PART ABOUT ALL OF THIS!???
It didn't work. The moment we rolled off the lot, after all that time waiting, after all that pain of injections, after all the hopes, I was in excruciating pain... urethrally.
Today I am back to my sitz bath, because I don't know what else to do. This has crippled my life like nothing else, and i still consider my self lucky as I don't have a giant facial tumor ripping apart my skull, and I don't have necrotising fasciitis, or a whole bunch of other horrible tragic and WHY GOD WHY things of that nature...

Trying to keep life in perspective, but if having an ileostomy was my only problem, even with not being able to truely "eat"....  I would still count myself the luckiest...

Getting Pubes in your Wafer

To de-Pube, or Not to de-Pube

When I first began dating Mr B, it was summertime. I hadn't been swimming in years, but I thought with Mr B's backyard pool, maybe he would invite me in for a dip, yes?
Shaving the naughty bits usually results in pimple-bumps, so I took my elder sister's sage advice to wax. I bought some little strips at the store, soaked in a warm tub for a while, then tried it out. I would be sexy as hell, seductively slinking around in my bikini... yeah. I'd drop my towel and bend over to get it, showing him that shaved pussy encased in a filmy little thong.
My plan= the most awesomest ever.
I smoothed the strip down over my bikini lines--just to try it out before I went any further. Then, steeling myself for a moment of hurt, I yanked them off.

If I had multiplied that moment by a thousand and thought of "hurt" as "ovary-shattering-pain" I would have had a more accurate idea of just what I was getting myself into. And it's not that I have a low tollerance to pain. I have been through 13 surgeries and had my jaw broken on my birthday when I was a young lass of 20. But ripping out the hair near/around/on my genetalia tops the list of unpleasent experiences I'd rather not twice encounter.

Blood immidiately rushed to the surface of my skin-- I was delighted to see as I stood crouched there with the hairy strips still grasped in my trembling hands. I tossed the strips aside, and, reaching for a handful of toilet paper to quell the blood, slipped in the tub and banged my side, back and left boob into the shower door.
I made a quick assesment of my injuries--none fatal, but AGGHHHHH! My crotch was still bleeding!!!!
The pain! It just went on and on! I pushed around through my medicine cabinet until I found the tea-tree oil and splattered that on, spilling a generous amount on the counter in my haste. But it still fucking HURT. DEAR CHRIST IN HEAVEN, WHY DO WE DO THIS TO OURSELVES!? I made a frantic dash for the freezer and held ice cubes to my burning loins.
But... it was still okay. I was salvageable. I could still be sexy, right?
Of course I had to do this last minute, and the doorbell rang.
It was Mr B.
I could see his shadow through the glass.
For fuck's sake. Why.

 I think I shouted some garbled mess as him, and he took that to mean "Hey, come on it! Open the door and just hang around!"
So the door began to open. I shit you not, I watched that handle wiggle and the door creek open like it was a horror movie. I felt like I was going to puke.
Naked, dripped a mixture of water and blood, I limped/hopped back to the bathroom still clutching ice cubes to my crotch.

He said something that I couldn't really hear through the door, but it was to the effect that he was excited to see me in my new bathing suit.

When I came back out, my smile was really more of a grimace. I gingerly walked around and he admired me. And my new bikini.
      Mr B: "What's that on the floor?"

You like my Micro paint drawing? Done on a track pad. So awesome.

Fuck. The drops of bloody water. Leading to the bathroom like a betraying trail of misery.
      Me: "Oh that's just a thing. Hey, it's not going to rain today, is it?"
I attempted the sexy, posing with my leg stiffly crooked on the couch, every movement one of wooden-doll-like stiffness. I snapped the back of my thong and winked at him. "I'm ready for you baby. It's alllll smoooth."
       Mr B: "What's that sticking out of your thong?"
Fuck. Toilet paper.

I am actually getting somewhere with this. I only recalled the above incident after I had yet another waxing-like experience with the sticky wafer on my ileostomy bag. The wafer is circular, and is generally placed on your lower right side around/over the stoma.

My bags have the wafer attatched, and with the attached wafer, I've never had leakage like I've had with two-piece bags. One-piece bags FTW.

Anyway, I've found what works for me, for not giving yourself that nasty hair-pulling expereince, is that I gently shave over that area. There are little hairs on our abdomens that also get pulled when you change your bag/wafer. If you lightly shave the area where the wafer goes (and trim the top of your pudenal bush, if you have one) you will find yourself in much less misery.

I have the rare good fortune that Mr B--finally told me after the fact--likes and nay, prefers pubic hair on women. We're not talknig about umbleweeds, but definately not full Brazillion anyway. I don't want ot get into pulling apart the idea of Brazilion waxes as tryign ot encourage men toward pedophilia or anything like that, because some really do swear that the smoother it is, the more sensations you have with sexual encounters. others like to run their fingers through hair, or feel it tickling their balls. Whatever floats your boat--or in this case, juices your pickle.
Just remember to trim those loose little guys up at the top and shave a bit around the wafer and you should be good.