My Insides Are Trying to Get Out

So besides what was going on with my truck's glow plugs and my checkbook, the past two weeks threw me a few other curve balls. The first falls under the category of TMI, and actually, so does the other.

A month or so ago I started having those little moments where when you laugh too hard you think, OMG, I almost peed myself. Then I started having the same issue when I picked up something heavy or even tried to pry the lid off a jar. And once, I think I did pee myself if only just a little bit. Finally, I realized that almost peeing yourself is not necessarily a sign of old age, so I went to the doctor. If you have two X chromosomes, you know that no girl has time for a UTI, but she has even less time to see a doctor for a UTI. Anyhoo, no amount of crossing my legs and squeezing them tight was making things right, so cranberry juice and antibiotics joined my daily list of things to do or take.

Huh, who knew?

So yeah, I had that going on, but then because things run in 56s - 3 would just be way, way too simple, I had this weird bump on my lower back that the doctor insisted required surgery. Oh, for the love of all that's holy. After numerous phone calls and visits to a surgeon, the date was set - a week ago last Monday. If life is going to suck, you might as just have all of the sucky moments piled into one week so that you get it all over faster.

Of course, during the consultation with the surgeon the week before surgery, I asked if I would be able to return to work the day of the surgery. He gave me an is she stupid? look and replied that I would be going under general anesthesia and wouldn't be allowed to drive a car much less go back to work. Oh. When I asked if I could at least resume my "normal" activity the day after, he said of course. HAHAHA. Seriously, doctors should be required to ask each patient if she rides horses because my normal and his normal were probably not the same thing.

​Surgery was supposed to be in the morning, but then it got moved to the afternoon which really stunk because I had to fast for eight hours. That's easy to do when your fasting hours are during the middle of night. With a 1:00 p.m. surgery, I had to fast through breakfast and lunch which also meant no liquids including water. Since I couldn't be near food or water, what else was there to do but ride right before my surgery? I see you all nodding your heads. Made sense to me too.

What? This IS my normal acitivity.

The joke was on me though. My surgery ran late which meant I sat naked in an open backed gown in a plastic chair for more than four hours waiting my turn. By the time I came out of surgery and got home, it was well past dinner time. I realized there was no way I was going to be recovered enough to drive to work the next day, much less ride. It's not like I am a cry baby or anything, but even though I only have three stitches, they're huge and even bending over to put my shoes on feels like my skin is about to pop open.

By Friday afternoon, I was determined to ride. My inside parts seemed to be keeping it together, and since I had a lesson on the next morning, I figured I had better make sure I could make it through a short ride before tackling a lesson. When I got to the ranch, I saw a cloud of dust hovering over my boys' paddocks. I looked over to see what the commotion was and laughed at their antics. Both boys were galloping around, rearing, bucking, and generally having one heck of a good time.

What?!

I decided to piddle around a few minutes to let them get their wiggles out, and before I knew it, an hour had passed. They just did not let up. Both of them were a gross sweaty mess. I have no idea what had gotten into them, but I wisely decided to skip the ride. If Izzy had that much energy, I thought it safer for the longevity of my stitches to not get tossed around like a rag doll. Fortunately, I felt even better the next morning, and never gave the stitches another thought. I don't go in to get them removed until a week from Friday.
Hopefully, they stay in.

Between peeing every five minutes and trying to keep my skin sutured closed, I feel like a water balloon that has sprung a leak.