Pain in the Butt

I may have told a partial lie in my last blog post. I am in Kenya updating my visa, but I am also here for a little medical procedure. That little medical procedure took place today. The full story is that I have (had) a cyst…on my hind end…at the base of my tailbone to be exact. And it hurt. Especially on bumpy dirt roads. So, I came here to have it removed. Let me just go ahead and tell you that stitches on your rear are a perfect way to ruin any fun that I might have had.


Loving that hospital gown. Ready for surgery!


We went to the hospital today and as I was getting prepped for surgery I swear it looked like a scene from the TV show M.A.S.H. A little primitive. I was getting a little sketched out by the room I was in and starting to rethink this whole surgery in Kenya thing when they came to take me to the operating room. To do that, they put me on a hospital bed and rolled me across half the hospital, including an outside area, to the room. I was just a tad bit mortified and thought maybe they were making a bit much of this little operation. There I was looking like I was going into open heart surgery being wheeled around the hospital on a bed, when all I was really doing was having a very minor outpatient surgery.


Seriously? A little dramatic for the procedure I was about to undergo.


While I was waiting again in yet another room to go into the OR, I took a nice little nap as I was lulled to sleep by the background noise of people speaking a language I didn’t understand. Even in Hyena town, listening to the Sparrow language always seems the trick to putting me to sleep (not that it takes much). Never in my life would I have imagined that one day I would be sitting in a foreign hospital about to go into an OR and listening to doctors and nurses speaking a language I didn’t understand. As with many other things that have happened here, that was never my dream.

You will be relieved to know that the OR was state of the art – or at least looked so to me – I have never been in an OR before, or as they say here in their British accents, a “theatre.” I felt like I was in very trusted hands and received the best of care – perphaps with more attention and focus than I would have received for the same procedure in the States. And when I got out, the nurse told me that those I brought with me had already called to check on me. Even thousands of miles from home, there were people (some I whom I barely knew) waiting on me when I came out of the OR.

My recovery activities for the evening consisted of pizza delivered to our room, Dr. Pepper, microwave popcorn, and oreos and milk – all things we can’t get back in our prior country. I thought maybe I would have outgrown my love for overly processed foods. Turns out I haven’t. It was delicious and one of the best nights I have had in a while…minus the butt-load of pain I was in (pun definitely intended).

I now have a very special little butt pillow big enough to tube down the Chattahoochee in that I get to carry around looking like I have hemorrhoids. Not embarrassing at all….

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