Surgery Couture.

I am quite sure that I'm well on my way towards some type of morbid record concerning the number of surgeries one person is allowed to have during a one year period. Ok, perhaps I am exaggerating. In any case, I spent October 18-31st on lock-down AGAIN at Nancy L'hopital Central.

So--I have this area of skin that just won't heal. It's about 6 inches long and about a half an inch wide. That's it. No more , no less. But it's just there all pink and angry.

For those of you who have no idea how I got myself into this mess in the first place, I won't bore you with the gorey details, but here's the synopsis:
I had a cyst on my tail bone. In order to remove cyst Dr. had to remove big chunk of skin off my ass. To heal area where chunk was removed Dr. did a traditional skin graft using skin from my fat ass cheeks. The skin graft did NOT work but skin starting growing anyway. (side note: I now have 2 new scars. They are perfect recangles and are perfectly symetrical. One on each ass cheek.) Eight months later my original surgery, all the skin has grown back into place on the original surgery site---except this 6 by 2 inch patch which refuses to heal. So my Dr. did a yet another type of skin graft to jump start the healing process.

Right now it's about as pretty as an exit wound and as mean as your 3rd grade math teacher.

I hate it.

Oh and since it lies perfectly at the base of the spinal column it is dead center on a huge bundle of nerve endings which make each and every of my most simple body movements feel like someone has set the seat of my pants on fire.
(Another side note #2: Why I have not become a junkie is beyond me.)
It actually hurts so much that I'm tired of talking about it. I'm bored of my illness.
Quite frankly, the only reason I wrote about it in my blog is so I could post the photos that my lovely husband David took of me before I went into surgery all dressed up in my surgery Haute couture gown and head ensemble.

Those little white gauzy caps always remind me of the food service workers in my Highschool cafeteria. Am I going to surgery or am I about to serve you Goulash from my rusty silver spatula? Who can say for sure?

And for some real entertainment----here is of course the "after" photo where I am clearly about as lively as a corpse.

Ahhhhh-Sleeping beauty!

Oh--the jokers in the O.R. somehow forgot to remove all my heart monitor electrode thingys.
Three days after this photo was taken I found an electrode still glued to my back somewhere north of my kidney. For some reason it scared the pants of me to think that thing was still there days later and I had failed to notice.

I have one thing to say about that: If you have it in mind to glue metal objects onto a poorly dressed unconscious person, please have the decency and presence of mind to remember to remove them later.

At any rate...I'm waiting for the right moment to seek my revenge.