I Once Had a Surgery to Repair a Tear That Basically Was...

If you lived a full day in the life of someone with this disease or one like it, here are some things you might never imagine being a part of normal life:

I once had a surgery to repair a tear that basically was creating a prolapse type situation every time I go to the bathroom.

Let’s just say that a couple years ago, while at my spine surgeon scheduling an operation, I realized the mesh from that surgery must have finally lost its battle and I am now “injured” in that very significant way again.

I could schedule to have another operation to fix if, but how horrific the recovery original recovery was (I’ve had two babies and one without medications, and it felt worse than the aftermath of L & D) WAS the reason we first starting talking about an ostomy.

My digestive doctor thought it could be life changing: allowing me to eat without these sort of painful, draining consequences, gain weight as a fast side effect, and- if I hated it - he agreed to make it temporary enough that if I committed to a year, he’d reverse it if I needed. He believed the year would be so beneficial and freeing (once my mind and pride and fear adjusted to the ostomy), that I wouldn’t want to go back.

I cancelled that surgery right before one of our @ seasons a couple of years ago… and now here we are.

I could keep going. (Describing things, not living life this way)… But I eventually couldn’t. We went on hiatus for a swarm of reasons that, in hindsight, were meant to be- helping things have a chance of being better, safer, gentler- but at the time, a part was so I can resolve the critical downslide that made putting toe pads on during shoe quick changes at shows but, as for this footage… well, maybe you can see why it matched my words.

Perhaps because it shows something the world so rarely sees: the real side of the upsides of living amongst the downsides no one sees.

A partner who drowned himself trying to make my dreams come true - giving up everything until it became our greatest heartbreak. A love letter that moved too much; reckless belief in another. Someone no one really knows like we do. The ways he makes us laugh.

Sometimes, you never get to put your own toe pads back on, but you still choose to dream. For some other dancer who will get that chance. For the chance to dream again. For the simple fact of showing someone else what someone else can be like in action, behind closed doors… And how no book should be judged purely by its cover.

After all, beneath every pointe shoe is a smelly toe pad. Don’t judge just the outside.

But if you have the chance, show someone else how someone else has helped you dream.

THANK YOU my Word Nerd friends and to all those helping this independent memoirist continue to work by upgrading to paid (which also helps my goal of gifting my every-weekday-writing for anyone who asks for a reading scholarship, no questions asked)….

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