The Vestibulitis Diary – Part 10: D-Day


Vestibulitis Diaries, part 10 - Pre-op

I woke up at 5. I was supposed to wake up at 6 but the worry about oversleeping woke me early and kept me awake. My parents drove me to the hospital on top of the hill. We parked and walked to the pre-admission testing room. It was 7:15 and I was 15 minutes early. We thumbed through magazines and joked to bide time.

Soon I was called to go to the pre-op area. There weren’t separate rooms as much as there were many curtain partitions holding other pre-op cases. Mom followed me and kept me company. I was told to change into the standard white uncomfortable looking gown that was open at the ass for all the world to see. You know, that gown.

They took my blood pressure and took some urine for a last minute pregnancy test. They confirmed that I was pretty much healthy as all get out. One of the nurses came in to put in an IV. She was being watched by a couple of nursing students. She tried to put a needle in my wrist, but my vein kept rolling away from her. Even though she numbed the area, it was disconcerting to see the needle move back and forth underneath my skin. She tried another vein near the crook in my arm and again it ran from her. Finally she went for my “sure thing” vein right in the bend of my left arm. (I suggested it first, but I guess she has to work up to that). One quick movement and it was in. Soon I was completely ready to go.

And then 45 minutes passed. I nodded off and eavesdropped on other patients. One was having a urethral biopsy and cytoscopy. The other was having thyroid surgery. My Dr. arrived and all peripheral anxiety disappeared. We chatted about insurance companies being pigfuckers and then she wheeled me back to the operating room. She and the anesthesiologist wheeled me back, it wasn’t something that an orderly had to do, there was no reason in her mind why she wouldn’t do it herself. Which is one of the reasons I adore her.

I asked if she was going to give my a bionic vagina, and she laughed and said she would. I slid off the bed on to the table and my feet were put in slings that hooked on to poles attached to the operating table. I joked that if I weren’t kinky, this position would be pretty awkward, but no one laughed because they didn’t get the joke. She performed one more q-tip test mapping out the VVS area.

“Does that hurt?” “OW”

“Here?” “OW!”

“Here?” “OW!”

“Here?” “OW!” etc….

They strapped the mask on to my face. My Dr. stood at my side and held my hand. I told her that I trusted her. She told me that she knew, and that I was going to be alright. Just as I was passing out I called out cheesily, plaintively.. “Goodbye Dr. _____________” And then I disappeared.


Next entry: Surgery

This is the story of Arashi, visual artist, writer and sex-positive vestibulitis patient and her surgical choice to heal her condition.

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