I should be doing housework ready for the landlord coming to measure the floor tomorrow ready for the new one…but stuff him! He can measure around the mess [and trust me, there’s plenty of it!] Instead of doing the aforementioned housework, I have decided to write this blog post while everything is still fresh in my mind. It’s been a while since I posted last, the next few paragraphs may explain why…
If you’ve been reading my blog you’ll know that I’ve been suffering from an anal fissure for almost 18 weeks. If you haven’t been reading my blog, catch up with [this post] [this post] and [this one]. Let me tell you, it has been an agonising and excruciating 18 weeks and I’d rather go through child birth everyday than this hell. I finished the 8 week course of the GTN medicine a week ago and things still hadn’t improved. I’ve been in tears almost every day with the pain. I decided enough was enough and Monday morning I rang the doctor’s office and made an emergency appointment for that morning. I checked online and unfortunately it was the same doctor I’d had trouble with the last two times I’d been [see previous posts for more info]. Gutted was not the word.
Hubby went for a walk local to the doctor’s surgery with Alfie whilst I had my appointment. I sat in the waiting room and literally had to choke back the tears from the mornings previous painful passing of “glass”. When I walked into the doctors room, I burst into tears almost immediately. He tried to comfort me but I was WAY past comfort. I explained to him that the fissure was too much for me to cope with, I felt it was getting worse, the blood loss was increasing and and and… He needed to examine me which I was prepared for. I lay on my left hand side and held onto the bed ready for the pain. He spread my bum cheeks and I cried out in pain. He’d not even got to the fissure yet and already I was in tears. When he took off his glove, it was covered in blood. Not a pretty sight let me tell you. After the examination we sat down and he told me I’d developed a perianal abscess [basically an abscess around / near the bum hole]. This was because the fissure hadn’t been treated quickly enough. His bastard fault! I was prescribed two strong antibiotics for a course of ten days and was sent on my merry way.
When I got home that morning I researched anal abscesses and was alarmed to see that usually antibiotics alone don’t work and surgery is required. I thought perhaps I had just read some biased information and continued to take the antibiotics religiously. On Wednesday, I woke up feeling horrendous. I was in pain and I felt ill. I carried on and even managed a walk around Graves Park at Sheffield [go if you get chance, it’s lovely!]. Wednesday afternoon whilst Alfie was asleep I went to the toilet and passed yet more glass. I felt worse this time, much worse. As I walked downstairs a wave of heat, sickness and dizziness came over me and I had to sit on the stairs to steady myself from falling. I felt like I was going to pass out. I text my sister and hubby to let them know. This was the worst I’d ever felt – pain and otherwise.
Early yesterday [Thursday] morning, I woke up to be sick. I had to ask hubby to take care of Alfie whilst I went upstairs to throw up and try get some rest. We were all downstairs because of a particularly bad night with Alfie. I threw up and went to bed where I had the worst sleep ever; it was interrupted by sickness, sweating and the dizzy feeling. At 11am hubby was half way to work and I started to feel the dizziness get worse so I called to speak with an on call doctor. She was on the phone at the time I called so the receptionist took my number and promised the doctor would call me back shortly. I was pleased to hear the on call doctor was a she, it meant it wasn’t the “pain in the arse” doctor. Thank fuck for that. The doctor called me as promised, I explained my symptoms and she told me to call my hubby to come home straight away and she made me an appointment for a few hours’ time.
I managed on my own with Alfie until hubby came home at 2 – he should have been home earlier but had work commitments. Alfie was extremely good, he was laid on the rug butt naked happily playing, watching TV and babbling away to himself and me. It was pretty sweet. By the time my appointment came round I was feeling worse and felt so weak that hubby walked me to the waiting area and sat me down before he went for a walk with Alfie. He wanted to stay with me but there was nothing he could do and if I passed out I was in a doctors surgery – I’d be fine!
I was called in straight away and was examined immediately. My sphincter muscle had gone into spasm which meant she couldn’t examine me properly – not a good sign if the sphincter goes into spasm apparently. We had a chat about how I felt whilst she read through the notes the pain in the arse doctor wrote. Turns out the stupid prick had given me the wrong type of antibiotics completely! The lovely doctor explained to me she was giving me the right antibiotics with a general anaesthetic cream to use before and after a motion [basically to help numb the area and therefore help the pain] and she told me to call her first thing Tuesday morning. When I call Tuesday morning, if there’s been no improvement she’s going to call the surgeons and arrange for the operation to be done A.S.A.P. It’s a pretty minor procedure but it will make the world of difference. The doctor told me it’s likely I will need the operation because if there’s been no improvement after almost 18 weeks, it might be too far gone to heal any other way but that said, the antibiotics and the anaesthetic cream are worth a shot.
This morning, despite being in pain I feel O.K. because I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and *fingers crossed* in a few weeks I’ll be pain free and be able to have a lovely poo without any problems. You’ve no idea how exciting that prospect is!
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