growinghumans


Plastic Surgery?!
January 30, 2016, 2:04 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

If you recall, a few months ago a friend of mine who works in the medical field thought that I had a diastasis recti; that is, a separation of abdomen muscles caused by carrying a giant alien baby inside of my stomach for 9 months.

Armed with this new information, I went to my annual exam at my OBGYN and asked her about it. She had me lay flat on the table and then lift my head up off the ground, causing my belly to form a severe peak where normal people would have flat abs. She looked at it for about 3 seconds and said, “No, this doesn’t look like a diastasis. This looks like a large hernia.”

Huh.

So. She referred me to a general surgeon to be evaluated. She suspected the hernia was so large that it would require an operation.

For a month I have stressed about this information.

I don’t like people touching my stomach. It gives me the heeby jeebys probably do to the traumatic labor I experienced.

Abdominal surgery is like one giant hug.

No, really.

The best part was the next morning after my C-section when they told me to try and sit up and sit with my legs hanging off of my hospital bed. The world’s largest NOPE happened right then and there.

Anyway, so I finally called this surgery center last week, because I kept READING THINGS ON THE INTERNET and they all basically said I was close to dying and I mean that’s not good. I made my appointment for yesterday.

For a week I walked around thinking I was a ticking time bomb and that I was definitely going to have to get surgery–my logical rational thinking was completely gone.

I made my husband go to the appointment with me. We sat in the appointment room and the doctor came in, shook our hands, and asked me to lay back.

“Let me just stop you right there. I hate people touching my stomach. I know you have to touch my stomach and that’s fine but I just want to let you know that if I spaz out, that’s why.”

The doctor kind of blinked at me for a second and nodded slowly.

That’s fine.

He had me do the same pose that my gynecologist had, laying flat and lifting my chin up to make my stomach peak.

“You do have a small umbilical hernia behind your bellybutton, but if you were born with an outie bellybutton it’s probably just from that. You actually have quite a severe diastasis.”

He then asked me to RUN MY FINGERS down the center of my belly so I could feel the gap–it was about an inch wide and it made me want to throw up a little.

This doctor then sat there for about 6 minutes explaining a few things to us:

Insurance companies won’t cover diastasis repair because they see it as purely cosmetic.

If I wanted him to repair the small hernia, he would also repair the diastasis while in there for free.

However, because he’s not a plastic surgeon, he would make a long mid-line incision to do all of this and he couldn’t guarantee that my stomach wouldn’t look more jacked up than it already it when he put me back together.

A plastic surgeon doing both procedures would be my best bet, but I would be paying for plastic surgery.

While physical therapy is usually successful for repairing a diastasis, it’s usually only useful right after the baby is born.

Oh.

Ok.

So basically, I am annoyed.

I am annoyed at my OBGYN for 1. not recognizing this issue at, say, my 6 week postpartum check up and 2. failing to see it even at my appointment 5 years later.

I am annoyed at this new doctor for making me feel like plastic surgery is the only option.

I am mad at my insurance for thinking that an injury like this isn’t serious enough to be covered. I gave birth to the biggest child ever in the history of children–not really but it felt like it–and to tell me that wanting to not look a little bit pregnant anymore,no matter how much I diet or work out, is not something they’re willing to pick up the tab for makes me realize even more that this country hates women.

I think, for now, I will just leave everything be.

 

 

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