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Well, the day has arrived. Tomorrow (which is really today, since it's after midnight) is my permanent interstim surgery. I should be excited, right? I should be so happy that I am getting this implant because the trial has been helping me so much, right? I'm just not. I am really depressed, actually.
I didn't completely realize it until I went into the closet to pick out what I am going to wear (yes, I am one of those goofballs that picks out clothes the night before, because I am NOT a morning person and would likely show up placed in my jammies. Anyway, I stood in my closet for about thirty minutes, picking up and putting back various tanks, sweatpants, and jackets. It's not a job interview, right? This shouldn't be that difficult. But, as I stood there flinging tanks around, I realized that I was sad...depressed...and subconsciously felt that maybe if I couldn't pick out clothes, I wouldn't have to go!
I know deep down that this is the right thing to do for my family. I owe it to my husband and our life together to do what I can to improve our quality of life. He has supported me from day one with IC, from learning to cath me, to learning how to mix instillations, to working very hard at a tough job so that I don't have to work...and in return, I owe him and to US to do what I can to ease my symptoms and maybe lead us back towards a bit of a normal life.
To some of you, the main reason I am apprehensive may seem silly...and that's fine, because different things are important to all of us. I am really upset about the size and location of the scar that the implant surgery is going to leave me with. I have avoided looking at my back since the trial surgery, because I know it will make me cry. I saw one of the incisions yesterday because the bandaid fell off and I had to replace it. It wasn't too big, maybe 1/4 of an inch...but there are four or five MORE back there just like it. And now, I get to add a BIG one.
This is bothering me for a couple different reasons. First, as some of you know, I am a model. And while I don't go around flashing my butt to the camera, depending on where the scar is could limit swimsuits, lingerie, and even some workout wear. My career is getting ready to have a big takeoff in April when I go out to Vegas to shoot various ad campaigns...but what if some are now limited due to a scar? And yes, there's photoshop out there, but the less they have to photoshop, the better and the more likely you'll get booked.
Also, I feel like this is going to disfigure me and could affect how I feel about myself. Again, some of you make think this is silly or think, why are you complaining about that when you are getting relief from the interstim...and I ask you to again remember that we are all different. Is a lessening in physical symptoms a good trade-off for less emotional happiness? I don't know the answer. I just know that I have serious body image issues anyway and have suffered from anorexia and bulimia in the past. When I look in the mirror, I see a chunky version of myself, not someone that wears a size 0 or 2. If my hubby and I point out people that we each think has a similar body type, he picks someone that is thin and fit, size 2 or so. I pick out women that are probably size 10...because that's what I see.
Anyway, I just feel like IC has taken away everything from me...my job, my sex life, my spontaneity, my ability to "feel" normal, and NOW...my body. Enough is enough...
I didn't completely realize it until I went into the closet to pick out what I am going to wear (yes, I am one of those goofballs that picks out clothes the night before, because I am NOT a morning person and would likely show up placed in my jammies. Anyway, I stood in my closet for about thirty minutes, picking up and putting back various tanks, sweatpants, and jackets. It's not a job interview, right? This shouldn't be that difficult. But, as I stood there flinging tanks around, I realized that I was sad...depressed...and subconsciously felt that maybe if I couldn't pick out clothes, I wouldn't have to go!
I know deep down that this is the right thing to do for my family. I owe it to my husband and our life together to do what I can to improve our quality of life. He has supported me from day one with IC, from learning to cath me, to learning how to mix instillations, to working very hard at a tough job so that I don't have to work...and in return, I owe him and to US to do what I can to ease my symptoms and maybe lead us back towards a bit of a normal life.
To some of you, the main reason I am apprehensive may seem silly...and that's fine, because different things are important to all of us. I am really upset about the size and location of the scar that the implant surgery is going to leave me with. I have avoided looking at my back since the trial surgery, because I know it will make me cry. I saw one of the incisions yesterday because the bandaid fell off and I had to replace it. It wasn't too big, maybe 1/4 of an inch...but there are four or five MORE back there just like it. And now, I get to add a BIG one.
This is bothering me for a couple different reasons. First, as some of you know, I am a model. And while I don't go around flashing my butt to the camera, depending on where the scar is could limit swimsuits, lingerie, and even some workout wear. My career is getting ready to have a big takeoff in April when I go out to Vegas to shoot various ad campaigns...but what if some are now limited due to a scar? And yes, there's photoshop out there, but the less they have to photoshop, the better and the more likely you'll get booked.
Also, I feel like this is going to disfigure me and could affect how I feel about myself. Again, some of you make think this is silly or think, why are you complaining about that when you are getting relief from the interstim...and I ask you to again remember that we are all different. Is a lessening in physical symptoms a good trade-off for less emotional happiness? I don't know the answer. I just know that I have serious body image issues anyway and have suffered from anorexia and bulimia in the past. When I look in the mirror, I see a chunky version of myself, not someone that wears a size 0 or 2. If my hubby and I point out people that we each think has a similar body type, he picks someone that is thin and fit, size 2 or so. I pick out women that are probably size 10...because that's what I see.
Anyway, I just feel like IC has taken away everything from me...my job, my sex life, my spontaneity, my ability to "feel" normal, and NOW...my body. Enough is enough...
the incisions where they threaded the wires I can't see... and the one where they put in the box is a very fine line.. I had mine done in April 2003... you will be ok, I am sure 
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