I jumped out of bed pretty quickly this morning when Amanda and I heard the power flicker since we woke up to a wind storm this morning. Well, I wouldn’t say I “jumped” out of bed, but I got up quicker than I have in the last 7 days mainly because I took MiraLAX at 4:00am and got a little worried about the ability to flush a toilet if the power went out! So, it was off to the garage to grab a red 5 Gallon Bucket to fill with water so that if the power DID go out, we would have the ability to flush the laxative assisted bowel movements that have been falling out of my backside each morning for the past week. Luckily, the trees have stayed off the power lines… and The Schoolhouse!… thus far.
It’s been a week since I voluntarily (…not happily) went to the Doc so that they could smash my asshole… and yes, they smashed it good! I’ll admit, I didn’t take the Doc’s warnings about the recovery too seriously. I’ve been a cook throughout my entire adulthood, so I’ve been conditioned to not pay too close attention to things like that because… well… you’ve got to work!… and it usually just came down to how fast I could get back to the kitchen. When you don’t have Paid Time Off or insurance and make very little money… you work. In my 20’s I broke both my legs. It was a much longer recovery, and I had support from family, but I still needed to work so as soon as I could… I did… on crutches and then a cane. When I had hernia surgery, I was working at a smokehouse in Colorado slinging cases of pork butts and brisket. I took almost a week off but had to get right back at it. That was fun considering I also had two teeth pulled the week before! No insurance for any of it… awe, the glamorous life of a professional cook/Chef.
This time around, though… it’s different. I work for a “Company”… like, one with an HR Department n shit… and not just a stand-alone Restaurant. I have insurance… good insurance… and plenty of PTO hours… because all I’ve mostly done is work for the last 5 months or so. I have a little money in savings in case something doesn’t go as planned (thank you Gobal Pandemic). The biggest difference being that I’m simply… older… and because of my Widowhood, I have a different outlook on life where I need to focus on taking care of Myself… both physically and mentally. That’s a hard thing to do considering my brain keeps telling me, “You gotta get back to work… you’re not doing your job… you’re letting people down… people think you’re a slacker… and a wimp!”, while my derriere laughs and through the stomach grumbles and anal cramping tells me, “Lay there, Bitch!”. So nowadays, I listen to it and am lying here in my adjustable bed drinking coffee on a Saturday morning… thinking about life… about work… about friends and family… about the Past, the Present, and a bit of the future… and about my Smashed Asshole.
This experience, the recovery, has been more than I expected but it is getting better. In my Widowhood, I learned that Life could get pretty uncomfortable… pretty bad actually… but as Time created space and has put distance between Right Now and the evening of April 22, 2018, I’m also able to recognize that Life has gotten… better. There is no Roadmap for Widowhood. You’re kinda just thrust out there in the world and expected to deal with it, cope with it, get past it… and you do!… but you don’t. It’s a lesson that keeps teaching you things for years… for the rest of your life. Fortunately, I have a roadmap to recovery from butt surgery.
I’ve used my Widowhood to find patience and strength to get through the uncomfortableness of this experience. My butt will heal and a few weeks/months down the road I’ll be back running around the forest with chainsaws and four wheelers… or chasing Xander as he’s chasing chipmunks. I’ll be vacuuming the stairs and bringing in cradles full of wood for the woodstove to keep us warm as the nights cool down. I’ll be throwing cases of turkey on carts and #10 cans of tomatoes on racks. I’ll be able to sit on the toilet without the fear of popping a stitch or blowing out my O-Ring! Widowhood is something where the pain of the experience never goes away… it just becomes less frequent. For me, this hemorrhoidectomy is something that takes away the chances of something getting worse. It takes away the bloody butt. It removes the Maxi Pads from my man bag, my car console, my desk drawer… and from my underwear. And!.. it takes away the anxiety of going out in public that I’ve had for the past year! The recovery is painful, but with this, the pain will simply go away over time if I take care of myself. After thinking about what she went through and then losing Kateri… I can deal with this little inconvenience. I mean, unlike my memories of Kateri and our life together that pop up whenever they feel the need, six years from now I’m not gonna be crying in the shower because I remembered that time I went to the Doc, and they sent me away with a smashed asshole…! Although……… I might.
Widower Notes n Thoughts on the Smashed Asshole Recovery… 1 week:
- For the first time in a week, I’m wearing real underwear AND leaving the house…!… Baby needs a new pair of shoes! (By that I mean Amanda and I are going to the store to grab food for us and Xander)
- I didn’t do nearly as much as I thought I would be doing during this recovery. I figured I could still be productive with a bunch of things that don’t require lifting, grabbing, moving and the such. I wasn’t. The sore bum was more distracting than I anticipated.
- Thank you, Amanda… for everything… I love you.
- I’m gonna admit… I’ve really enjoyed being laid up at home for the last 7 days. It’s been nice living in my own little world for a week. I’m gonna miss it… but Life doesn’t stop for a smashed asshole.
Thirty Days of Mo(u)rning 