Well my gut feeling was correct unfortunately. My fistula has not healed...at all. It's about an inch wide. The doctor who performed the test said he didn't see much of a difference since the previous test. He also said he didn't think waiting two more months or however long would make a difference.
I pretty much knew deep down that it hadn't healed, my body was pretty clear about this...but I didn't want to admit it to myself until I saw the actual proof. Hearing the doctor say that the liquid was coming out of my vagina and feeling the pain of it filling up with the liquid hit me like a ton of bricks. I started crying and the doctor attempted to "console" me with kind words and reassurance that it can be easily fixed. I don't care if it can be easily fixed, I'm pissed off and can't believe that this stupid thing hasn't healed yet.
I leave and meet my mom in the waiting room and she already knows the answer by seeing my tears. I didn't give a shit that other people were looking at me. Nothing else was around me at that moment. My mom and I decide that there's no point in continuing this waiting game and that I should call my surgeon and set up a surgery date to get this fixed.
My mom treated me to a lovely lunch to which she calls the "make Caitlin happy afternoon"...she's the best. I decided to call my doctor when I notice a missed call from my doctor's office. I call my surgeon and speak to the APRN who has been just as involved as the surgeon. We talk and she says she got the results of the study and her and my surgeon are disappointed as well at the results. I tell her of my discussion with my mom and that I just want them to make an appointment for the surgery to get this over with. She agrees to do so but says that I need to talk to my surgeon anyway in advance.
My doctor calls me later and says that she spoke to my surgeon and he is not going to set a date before talking to me first. We have an appointment the 18th and we will discuss everything then, holding off on a surgery date. Fine, whatever. The day goes by and I succeed in keeping myself busy but the results are lingering in the back of my head.
Today I was busy all day at work and now I'm in a funk. Now I'm really thinking about all my past surgeries and the fact that I'll need AT LEAST two more. I've already had 3, damn. I just want to be left alone right now and not talk to anyone. You know, sometimes I feel guilty that I feel this way. I feel that maybe I'm overreacting and that I shouldn't feel sorry for myself when so many other people are struggling more than I am. I feel like I need approval from family and friends to feel pissed off and sad about this. Weird, I know.
Fact is that I am pissed off and sad. I'm scared to have another surgery. I'm scared that it won't heal or that it'll come back. I'm scared I won't be able to get rid of the bag. I'm scared of not feeling 100% again or gaining all my weight back. I'm scared that I'll be scared forever. I'm scared my body will never recover from so many surgeries in such a short amount of time, but I feel like I'm in a rush. A rush to get rid of this bag and to get my life back to normal, the normal I once felt. I feel as though my life is on hold...in every aspect, relationships, school, career...LIFE. And I'm not referring to the bag putting me on hold. I've learned to deal with it and it becomes a routine. I am referring to these upcoming surgeries as this hold.
How many more will I need? Will my surgeon agree to surgically fix the fistula? Will it come back? Will the surgery be soon or in a few more months? UGH I can't move on when I don't have the answers.
Guess all I can do is continue this waiting game and continue to live my life as best as I can right now and continue to gain my strength and confidence back.
