Four weeks ago, my Bartholin Gland Cyst reared its ugly, painful, infected head. Three weeks ago, I underwent surgery for it. One of the many consequences of this ordeal? It’s been a month since my partner or I have had sex. And I want to.
The doctor told me Wednesday that my stitches are almost all out, and that I’m definitely healed enough for sex, although we should avoid “swinging from the chandeliers.” We had every reason to think we were both about to get laid. No-go. Instead, I got to do that whole roll-over-and-sulk-while-still-really-horny thing. Lame.
Now I’m having all these thoughts I hadn’t considered before. I’m worried that this experience is going to be the beginning of a long pattern of physical pain, emotional trauma…just uck around my vag. I’m not used to uck around my vag.
I’m not used to being afraid to touch my own cunt.
I am a proud vagina-wearer. I wear her with pride, I play with her with pride, and I’m not used to uck. I’m scared of uck, I’m scared of having baggage around her.
How long is this going to take? The doctor says I’ll be completely healed–no more scar tissue, no more marsupial pouch–in six months. Six months is a long time, and he never ever said the words ‘six months’ when we were talking about having this surgery.
I thought all the scared was behind me. I thought I left all the scared behind in the operating room. But now, again, I’m scared.