What NaNoWriMo, Rubber Donuts, Tow Trucks and Retirement have in common

The Irony Of It All!!!!

Here’s a compressed version of the past 2 months:

I was hit with a pain in the derriere, literally (Thrombosed Hemorrhoid).

The pain in the @$$ grew larger.  

After sitting became an exercise in how much pain I could tolerate, I found myself in the “incontinence” section of Walmart looking for a rubber donut.

Ahhhh….relief.  But who wants to carry a $10, bright red, butt mitt around with them for who-knows-how-long?

First thought?  I can’t do Yoga on a rubber donut!!!

Second, and most importantly: S#!&!  I can’t sit more than 20 minutes at a time.  How can I ride in 3 planes for 9 hours?!  The best daughter in the universe bought me the tickets to travel to her home on Thanksgiving!  What is an anal-retentive, donut-ridden woman with airport anxiety supposed to do?

First stop, Gastroenterologist:  “You need surgery. I take care of hemorrhoids on the inside of the body, not the outside.  You need a Colorectal surgeon.”  

“When can I get it done and how long will it take to recover?”

(He didn’t really say this:  I’m greatly condensing our conversation) “Today or tomorrow.  I want to make sure it’s healed before you leave for your trip.”

Wow!  Amazing!  I had an appointment that same day!!!

In the car, going down the road…sputtering up the hill and being honked at, making a turn and…

$*%&^@  CROINK @)%#*&$


Aaarrrruuugggh!  Not so amazing.  The engine died 3 miles away from the doctor’s office and the car pictured below had to be towed home 45+ miles.

Butt But first, we had to endure this insult:  The tow truck driver laughs and says, “I didn’t know there there were any of those left on the road anymore.”


Have you ever ridden in a tow truck on a rubber donut…for an hour?  Imagine being on a horse-drawn buckboard flying down a dirt road after it’s been destroyed by an ATV with spikes on the wheels.

Hint:  My butt was NOT numb.

I could go into a lot more detail but…Do you want to hear the saga of my butt hole?  Really?

I didn’t think so.

All right!  I’ll get to the point!  

A week later (yesterday) I  had a stab and grab (better than the slice and dice in the same area 20 years ago that required 78 stitches).  

How it’s done: You get stabbed in various places around the offending part of your body 4 times with a needle dispensing local anesthetic, then you feel pressure as the doctor slices through the tough skin, and you’re sent home with a pad that has no stick-um on it to keep it inside your underwear.  

Once I could feel pain again, it was like the aftermath of childbirth.

What’s next?

The 4 week recovery period.

Sitz baths are my friend.

November is NaNoWriMo, and I’m participating — even if I had to stand up and type to do it!  

Nothing says “therapy” like the insanity of writing a book in 30 days.

November is my last month before someone else takes over my job, and I’ll be trying to recover from the stab and grab.  After retirement, I’ll be going from poor to VERY poor and will have to learn how to live an entirely new lifestyle.

In a nutshell:

 I’m drowning in a sea of irony.

I’ll be back to posting daily as soon as I can.