It's Been Too Long...

Since I've blogged, updated everyone, blah, blah, blah. I know. No excuses. I've been through hell. If you want to know what hell is like, just ask. I'll be glad to share it with you. I've seen the face of satan himself. And no, I refuse to capitalize satan's name. I give him NO respect. I'm getting ready to back to Vanderbilt for another check-up. Praying not another surgery, but it's all still up in the air. For those of you who haven't heard from me in two years, my fistula is healed (thank you, God, and Dr. Paul Wise). On May 11th, 2010, I went into surgery at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, and by the skilled hands of Dr. Wise, I was healed of the bane of my existence. The horrible obstetric fistula that had plagued my life for almost 15 months.

I spent a good year in therapy, and after that, I began a support group for women who are living with/or survivors of obstetric fistula. There are no words to describe the horrible isolation I felt during those 15 months. No one, but someone who has been there, can possibly understand your pain, and it's not even remotely physical. It's mental, and emotional. Every time you go to the bathroom, you relive the birth-- the neglect, the pain, the anguish. It just doesn't stop. The dignity you lose by having to go and buy bag after bag after bag of Depends, and box after box after box of douche, to never feel clean-- and you never truly are. There's ALWAYS leakage-- ALWAYS. It's hell. It's a hell I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy.

Right now, I'm dealing with survivors guilt. Two of the girls in my support group are struggling terribly, and my heart is broken. Both of them have been through three failed surgeries. One is living with a colostomy, the other is not. Both are at the end of their ropes. I keep telling them to hang on, there's a cure, someone is going to help them. They will be healed. In my heart, I know that they will, I'll keep fighting until they are. I haven't given up hope, but it hurts, because here I am, healed, on the second try, easily, and they're the ones laying, suffering. It all seems so easy coming from someone like me. I would give anything to just trade places with them, even for a day, just to let them remember what it's like to be normal, because you forget.

You forget what it's like to go to the bathroom and not have to sit there for hours on end. You forget what it's like to not have to plan EVER trip based upon where the bathrooms are, and if you have enough douche and Depends on your person before you leave the house. You forget what it's like to not live with the horrible memories in your head of what put you in that situation.

I've been having some flashbacks lately. I think they've been due to my period coming (yeah, I know you REALLY wanted to know that), but it's not been easy for me to deal with. I know having Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, that you just have to take things one day at a time. I can't say I'm 100% yet, or that I'll ever be, but I'm working on it. My daughter is happy and healthy, she's the light of my life. I love her more than anything, and I'm thankful to have her. I thankful she doesn't know about any of this, and doesn't remember me suffering.

Here's some pictures from surgery, healing, fun, and Savannah :0)