David asked me not to write this article. He begged, really. He (I kid you not) came and sat down beside me, took my hand in his, looked me right in the eyes and said, “I love you enough to tell you the truth…no one wants to read this article. No one. I’ve had to live this article for the last year of my life and I hated every minute of it. So, don’t do this to your readers. Please re-think this.”
But alas, dear reader, I was not swayed. Today I shall write an article that no one wants to read, and no one saw coming…. least of all me. Today I shall write an article the way my Aunt Fay used to dominate most of the dinner talk: by discussing her various ailments. Today I shall write about what pains me.
It won’t be pretty. And it will be graphic. But I do so as a service to you. I talk about the things you don’t want to talk about. I’m good like that.
I’d like to start by saying that when David says he had to “live this article for the last year” of his life – HE IS A LIAR AND THE FATHER OF LIES! I had to live this article. Not him. ME. I had to live it and live through it. He had to sit in front of ESPN and yell out things occasionally like, “Are you alright in there?” “Keep it down, I can’t even hear myself think,” and my personal favorite, “I have not doubt it hurts, I once hit my head on the corner of a thermostat and had to get stitches.”
Last fall something happened to me. I’m still not sure what it was. One minute I was drinking black and coffee and heading to the bathroom, like every morning, and the next minute I was regaining consciousness on the bathroom floor. And since that day, my life has never been the same.
Look, hemorrhoids are a part of life. They just are! If you are reading this article and you are young and perky and have yet to birth a baby, then look yourself in the mirror and tell yourself the truth: Hemorrhoids are coming and there. will. be. blood. If, however, you are mid to late 50’s, you’ve birthed 3 children and you’ve never battled them a day in your life: you’re a witch and need to be burned at the stake.
I experienced them when I was pregnant, and maybe in small increments here and there, depending on my diet, but to be honest, I didn’t think they ranked up there as all that terrible. Until….
That morning, when I went to the restroom, something terrible happened. I experienced a pain that I had never felt before. They say that kidney stones are as painful as child birth; I’ve experienced both of those and I agree with the sentiment. They are both awful. But an Anal Fissure is right up there with them.
I’m going to give you the medical term of a fissure because it makes me feel better about the fact that I’m telling the world about this. Here it is:
You know what?
I just looked up the definition.
I’m not writing it here. Google it.
Please leave me some small semblance of pride.
Truth is, I would never have even dreamed about writing an article on it, but whenever I have talked about it in The Radke Family someone inevitably emails me and tells me that they’ve suffered with one for years, or that their spouse has it, or that they think that’s what been making them almost pass out on the toilet. And so, like with most things, I realized I wasn’t alone. This is a problem that lots of women experience but absolutely no one wants to talk about.
And who can blame them? It’s embarrassing. It’s painful. And did I mention, it’s embarrassing?!
For the last few months, I have dealt with this issue night and day. Some days I didn’t even get out of bed. I couldn’t. I would take pain medicine and try and sleep through my day. Waking only to place another cold pack between my legs or apply another prescription ointment to the area.
(Oh, and did I mention that the only way to get said ointment and pain meds, is to go to a doctor, hike up your skirt and think happy thoughts? Seriously…there is nothing more humbling than this condition. My mother says it’s time I was humbled.)
But we’re all women here. And I’m willing to bet that out of an email list of over 35,000 women, more than two or three are going to raise their hand and say, “ME TOO! I HAVE THIS TOO!” Because one of the major causes of anal fissures is hemorrhoids, and one of the major causes of hemorrhoids is pregnancy, and one of the major causes of pregnancy is men. What is my point?? MEN ARE TO BLAME. (This should surprise no one.)
In two weeks, I will go in for surgery to treat this condition. It cannot come soon enough. Personally, I am praying someone dies so I can get into surgery quicker. (Is that wrong of me?) But until then, there’s an ice pack and a Valium with my name on it – sitting on my bedside table. Will it be embarrassing? Yes. Will it be mortifying? Yes. But will it be worth it? Hellllllz yeah! So just know that you are not alone. It’s an embarrassing situation that so many other women – young and old - deal with. You just needed someone to step up and actually admit to it. So here I am. I’ll admit it!
Don’t wait another second to go see someone about this issue. It will only get worse until you see someone. So, go check in with your doctor, TODAY!
And then go back home…crawl to the restroom…. cry from the pain…crawl back to your bed…and then have a kid walk in and say, “If it hurts to bad to poop, why don’t you just stop pooping?” …and then scream at their father, who – if we’re honest – is to blame for all of this anyway.
Love you,
Melissa
There are some things men can not
or will no understand. I think this was a great article for you to write. Thank you so much for brave and doing it. With much love and another of prayers
Well Girlfriend I am hear to tell you that I sympathise with you. I myself have an Anal Fisher that has been my constant companion for at LEAST 20 years!.I have had THE surgery, a few different prescriptions, & it refuses to take leave of it's hallowed abode! I am tired of the cocktails of Metamucil, & Miralax. Actually if I'm being perfectly honest, I look forward to one or the other every day. And I thought I saw the last of blood down there with the completion of MENopause! And don't get me started about the pain.It outshines childbirth! My almost nightly prayers to God are Thanksgivings of not passing out from the pain or that I was able to unclog my own toilet. So when I say I sympathize with you I mean it from the bottom of my bottom! God bless you & your family, & keep up being you!🌹