Private Parts
As I was mentally preparing myself this morning for today’s stent insertion (which included a fair amount of leg-shaving and heel-moisturizing), I was struck by the irony of my repeated exposure to complete strangers.
I’ve always been a fairly (all right, extremely) physically shy person. Not that I won’t hang out in a bathing suit (tanning is more important than modesty), but for the most part, changing in locker rooms, getting nekkid for physicals, etc. have never been something I’m comfortable with. I’m definitely not the lady who leaps dripping out of the shower after her workout, toweling her hair and launching into conversation with her friend at the makeup counter, for instance.
So I can’t help but chuckle/wince/shudder at the amount of time I’ve spent completely bare in front of complete strangers over the last few years. It started with childbirth, certainly, but at least the L/D nurses closed the door of the bathroom while they helped me change after the process was over. I remember being prepped for my first surgery in 2006, feet in stirrups, gown at waist, while OR nurses, medical residents (some of them really cute guys) and assorted personnel kept coming into the room and introducing themselves to me. I finally said, “Is it just me, or is it a little drafty in here?” They got the point and grabbed a blanket.
But once you’ve been cut open from stem to sternum, there’s just no privacy any more. After my last big surgery in 2007, I remember the (delightful, sensitive, thoughtfuln’t) surgical residents popping into my room at 5:30 AM for rounds, cracking on the overhead klieg lights, ripping off my blankets and having a look-see at my incision before I had even opened my eyes. (I did NOT bake cookies for the surgical residents.)
And today, a cute man I’ve met with for approximately twenty minutes will be inserting a stent…well, you know…while I’m unconscious and naked from the waist down. Just another one of those things I have to let go…
I'm a two-and-a-half time ovarian cancer survivor who is not only determined to make it to sixty but also to look damn good while getting there. My two boys, husband, and dog are counting on me to get out of bed every day, so I might as well wear something cute and make each one COUNT. I'd love to hear from you about your odyssey - sharing makes it all easier to take. And laugh at.
The Carcinista 
Mr. Wonderful said,
December 17, 2010 at 11:47 AM
So that’s why there was no hot water left this morning…
Holly said,
December 17, 2010 at 12:46 PM
Shotgun – you have no idea how many times I’ve said to people “modesty is out the freakin’ window after all my body has been through!”
Stem to sternum, no doubt. When people start comparing their scars I always look at them with a sly grin and say “really – do you REALLY want to talk scars? Bring it!”
Lovin’ your wit and wisdom as always,
Clover 🙂
Bill said,
December 17, 2010 at 2:28 PM
Heel moisturizing?
WhiteStone said,
December 17, 2010 at 2:39 PM
I like to think…I certainly do hope…that none of those young medical nincompoops have nightmares after viewing such as I. The indignity of it all! Sigh!!!
Ginger Armstrong said,
December 17, 2010 at 3:01 PM
Sarah……….you wrote what I have needed to say for some 20 odd years. You are a hoot! Darlin’, once you turn totally gray on the north end you won’t gave who sees the north end. All vanity ceases to exist. 🙂
Ginger Armstrong said,
December 17, 2010 at 3:02 PM
oops……meant to type “CARE” who sees.
Adrienne St.Clair said,
December 17, 2010 at 3:28 PM
Ah, sweet memories…I remember being the the hospital recovering from my hysterectomy. I was lying in bed spread eagle, having the nurse insert a cathader and in marched some old lady I had never seen before. “Oh, sorry dear..wrong room, just visiting.” What can you do but laugh!
Sarah, I send you my laughter! (and hugs)
Adrienne
Patty said,
December 17, 2010 at 5:18 PM
I hope you wore your boots!
Sue Mellusi said,
December 17, 2010 at 5:59 PM
Awesome, Sarah…you had me at the title!
Bernie said,
December 17, 2010 at 8:19 PM
I am still chuckling after reading your post, hope all went well today….:-)Hugs
Robin said,
December 18, 2010 at 11:59 PM
Can’t stop laughing. You kill me! I tell all my medical staff I require them to sign a waiver that states I’m not responsible for scarring them for life or causing nightmares. That usually lightens things up. Exactly, what can you do but laugh….
Ann said,
December 19, 2010 at 4:34 PM
I know what you mean. I don’t even need the doctor to give me one of those gowns anymore. Once he wanted to do an exam and I just took my top off in front of him.
With no breast there isn’t going to be much of a problem now, is there?
Hope all is well.
Coleen Sosa said,
December 23, 2010 at 7:28 PM
Can’t stop laughing. You kill me! I tell all my medical staff I require them to sign a waiver that states I’m not responsible for scarring them for life or causing nightmares. That usually lightens things up. Exactly, what can you do but laugh….