Just a quick fly-by post to mention that I haven’t died from Botox Syndrome. (Yet.) It’s been a week since the procedure, and right now I’m feeling… well, exactly the same as I was prior to it. I’m not noticing any tension in my vagina, but I don’t really feel like I can relax it, either. Kegels are a little tougher to do than they were before, but I don’t notice much relaxation on the release.
I should have some form of dilating update… However, I’ve been on Shark Week for the last few days (that’s advice columnist Dan Savage’s term for being on my period, and I’m rather fond of it) and thus avoiding the little silicone bastards. Again.
But give me 3-4 days and I will have absolutely no excuse not to dilate, so… If I haven’t posted again by the start of next week, hound me! I need someone to kick me into being accountable. Plus, I have a follow-up appointment with Specialist Doctor on the 18th, so I will need to have something positive to report to him. Otherwise he might call me a wimp again.
… Did I not mention that before? Guess it’s storytime after all.
Now, Specialist Doctor has been the best doctor I’ve seen about my vaginismus and vulvodynia. He is knowledgeable and compassionate, and very determined to have me thinking positively and truly believing I can beat this. His treatments are aggressive but necessary, done methodically, and I really think I’d be much worse off if he weren’t holding me accountable.
However, being a pelvic medicine specialist, he has hundreds of patients, and as such, appointments with him are short and brusque. Often he’s running late, sometimes an hour or more, and when that happens, the stress starts to show. He’s never been mean to me, but I know that sometimes I’ve become another box to check off on the list before he can go home.
The time that stood out to me the most was on my pre-Botox appointment, when we were evaluating how well the Elavil worked. He asked me if I’d attempted intercourse yet; I said no. And he responded, “That’s a little wimpy, don’t you think?”
My response was the only actually wimpy part. I said something vague about not wanting to exacerbate the vaginismus by attempting intercourse before I was ready. And to his credit, he seemed to agree with me, or at least believe I was being reasonable. The conversation went on like usual, he outlined his Botox treatment plan, and all was well.
But what I wanted to say to him, at that precise moment when that word “wimpy” slipped out of his mouth, was something along the lines of: “Hey, you try shoving a dildo the size of a penis up your ass before you’ve stretched it out, and see how THAT feels!”
Obviously, I didn’t actually say that, because, well, I’m an adult, and hoping to move past my rebellious teenager phase. But I do think, in the most literal sense, it’s a valid point. Anal intercourse, when not adequately prepared for, can be as unpleasant of an experience as vaginismus; it requires lots of lubricant, gradual stretching, and patience from both partners to even be comfortable, let alone pleasurable. (And honestly, I cannot fathom how that could ever be even remotely comfortable. But, I also can’t fathom how vaginal intercourse could be comfortable either…)
In summary, I think being nervous to attempt to insert something a fair bit larger than anything I’ve attempted before, when inserting dilators smaller than my husband have often resulted in scraping, burning, searing pain… I don’t think being afraid of that kind of pain is “wimpy.” Not at all.