We’ve all seen these commercials, I’m sure. “Are you feeling less than fresh DOWN THERE?!” Down there. Because we can say penile forty-seven times in one 30 second commercial, but God forbid anyone say vagina. “Is your hoo-haa smelly?” “Do you have swamp rot of the nether region?”
Yes, we’ve felt less than fresh at times. It happens. It happens to the best of them. Sometimes down there just isn’t up to par in the freshness department. But why do these commercials always take place at the beach or something? Let me state something right now, on behalf of all humans. Do not-repeating Do Not-go to the beach, public pool, or any such equivalent if your womanhood is feeling unclean. Please. We do not want to share your unfreshness. No one wants to stew in the crotch rot of others. (Maybe some people, because I’ve seen things-bad things-and there are sick people in the universe.) Just stay out of the water, for the love of your fellow humans.
I’m not judging. I’ve already said it happens. The CDC wouldn’t recommend it, though. And neither do I.
We ladies know how it is. We don’t always discuss it, maybe only in certain company. But it happens. The vagina is a complex organ, okay. Unexplainable shit happens in that area. It’s especially confusing to non-vagina owners. If you have never owned a vagina, do not try to understand one. I don’t understand that bitch, and it’s mine. What the fuck is happening down there sometimes?
I also want to share something with non-vagina owners on behalf of all vagina owners. Click Here. Learn it. Live it. Love it. It’s not that difficult. Y’all can find prehistoric ancient cities buried under the ocean, but you can’t find that shit. It’s not that hard. There’s a diagram and everything.
“All the world’s a stage, and I’ve been given the part of Job.” – Me to one of my friends yesterday after sharing the results of a recent opthamologist’s appointment.
It all started in September or October 2009, near the end of my pregnancy. I started noticing an odd problem I’d not previously experienced, double vision. Not only was there double vision, my eyes were visibly turning inward, and I had no control over my eyes’ movement.
I told my OB/GYN, and we hoped it was a temporary problem that would correct itself, like so many other strange conditions that occur during pregnancy. For the rest of my pregnancy, I tolerated the double vision. After RB was born, I experienced severe carpal tunnel syndrome and swelling in my hands and wrists, so severe that I could hardly bend my fingers. I used most of my Rx pain meds for the pain in my hands more than the pain from childbirth. The eye condition continued, and I lived with it, assuming it would go away eventually like the hand swelling and other transient effects of bearing a child.
By summer of 2010, the ailment hadn’t improved. Driving at night was becoming impossible, and I kept one eye closed or covered most of the time. With the urging of many friends and family members, I made an appointment with an opthamologist. I wanted to see the surgeon who’d performed my Lasik surgery in 2005, but he didn’t have any appointments available. I went to one of his associates. She examined my eyes and explained the condition is more commonly a pediatric malady, for which I’d have to see a pediatric opthamologist.
It was my first visit to CHNOLA, long before RB’s intrusive alien interloper took up residence in his brain. The doctor I saw explained my ailment as intermittent esotropia (AAPOS http://www.aapos.org/terms/conditions/48).
What the diagnosis basically means is that my eyes turn inward because of a weakness in the muscles that control my eyes. For good measure, a CT scan was conducted and showed only a small polyp in my sinus cavity. Hoping treating the polyp would help resolve the esotropia, the sinus problem was treated. And, in a week or so, the esotropia disappeared. Yay! Thank goodness that was all over. . .
Unfortunately, it wasn’t all over. Only a day after my follow-up appointment with the opthamologist at CHNOLA, the esotropia returned. Well, it isn’t that bad, I thought. I can live with it. I have more important things to worry about. Besides, there were two solutions to the esotropia problem: 1) Prism glasses which cost $500+ and are not covered by my insurance or 2) Surgery.
I ignored the problem. I drove with one eye closed. I watched TV with one eye closed. I did just about everything with one eye closed. I stopped making eye contact with people. But to me, my daily routine wasn’t effected that much.
Fastforward to late 2011, RB starts getting sick all the time. Here’s a brief rundown for those of you who are just joining us. (You can read more about Robot Boy here.)We’re at his pediatrician’s office once a week. He’s admitted for pneumonia in December. By January 2012, he stops walking and starts suffering dizzy spells that cause him to fall down. We’re still at the pediatrician weekly. March 3 2012, he isn’t breathing. We come to the ER at CHNOLA.
Esotropia becomes a non-issue. We embark on an epic journey that if written could only have been penned by Homer, or perhaps more appropriately, Dante. We spend nearly a year in-patient through RB’s treatments, tests, scans, infections, and changes in feeding, fluids, and medications. (We’re still in-patient, by the way, but we do have a pending date of discharge.)
November 29 2012, I finally take the advice my aunt gave me two years prior and visit a rheumatologist. Since childhood, I’ve experienced odd symptoms and been diagnosed with everything from IBS to juvenile arthritis to osteoporosis. My body is hurting. I can barely function, and I know the time is drawing near that I will be home with my disabled son. I know I will have to be at my best to be the best caretaker for him. I make a list of diagnoses, tests and their results, and my symptoms. The doctor goes over my papers and says, “Fibromyalgia.”
I’d suspected the diagnosis, as I’m familiar with the symptoms, and I fit every damn last one. He prescribes me meds, gives me encouraging words about RB, and sends me on my way. I take the initiative to be serious about my health. I start eating better and exercising again. I start doing yoga again, every day. I take my meds, and I give up caffeine and alcohol. (Update: I had a follow up appointment with the rheumatologist last week, and he is very pleased with my progress. I feel great, and I’ve lost over 10 lbs since my first appointment with him. You can read more about my first visit here.)
By now, my esotropia is becoming a royal pain in the ass. I take to wearing a patch.
I finally decide to make an appointment with the opthamologist, something I should have done months ago since he works here at CHNOLA, where I’ve been living for nearly a year. The diagnosis is the same, and I’m again given the options of the prism glasses or surgery. I opt for surgery. First of all, my insurance will pay for surgery but not the glasses. Secondly, I need a permanent solution that won’t put me back in glasses after I’ve already had surgery to be free of them.
I’m currently waiting for a call to schedule the procedure. It’s outpatient, but moderately invasive. I will be under general anaesthesia, and the doctor advised it will be a few days before I feel fully recovered from the anaesthesia. The pain is supposedly minimal. Two months from the surgery date, I will have a follow-up to find out just how well my esotropia has improved, or -more hopefully – has diminished entirely.
So raise a glass for me, Old Job, as I’m sure ‘Ol Mephisto is moving his bishop. We’ve not reached a stalemate, yet, and we’re not intending on it.