Page 91 of Confessions of a Virgin on a Dating App
Anesthesia was a hell of a drug.
My mother arrived not long after, fawning over me with hugs and kisses and congratulating me forbeing so brave. I hugged her back, her affection further amplifying my relief. Even as an adult, I would always appreciate my mother’s comfort.
Maybe I should visit them more,I thought to myself.I’ll just steer clear of my grumpy father.
“So the surgeon came out to the waiting room and told us about your procedure,” My mother announced, which made my ears perk up.
“They were right. You did have endometriosis, and they were able to remove it all.”
In my drug-addled state, I wasn’t sure whether to cheer or cry. I ended up doing both, laughing joyously as tears streaked down my puffy face.
“You did it, sweetheart.” My mother kissed my forehead.
Sweetheart…
Thoughts of lying in bed with Devin the night before, him rubbing my hair while calling me that same pet name, flooded my mind. I shot out of bed, which made my dizzy head swirl, and scrambled for my phone.
“Here it is, dear.” My mother pulled the device out of her purse and handed it to me.
The screen seemed unnaturally bright, as if it were burning out my retinas. I could read my notifications—the text wasn’t melting like it was on my Kindle earlier—but I had trouble keeping my hands steady and my eyes focused.
I had one message from Devin, from half an hour ago.
Hey sweetheart. You out of your surgery yet?
Hi Dev! I just got out! I did it!
That’s great! You feeling okay?
I feel great! Well, drugged, but great! Not in much pain. And the doctor said I did have endometriosis! I was right!
Uh…Avie? You okay?
I froze, my eyebrows furrowing.
What do you mean? Of course I’m okay.
Avery…never mind. Just text me later when you’re less drugged.
Confused by Devin’s odd response but too high on anesthesia to let it bother me, I plopped my phone on the bed next to my hip and chatted with my mother while I waited to be discharged.
She explained that the doctor found endometriosis not only on the outside of my uterus and pelvic wall, but also around my stomach and intestines. That was a huge relief, because it explained why I had so many digestive issues. I hoped that going forward, my stomach wouldn’t blow up like a balloon after every significant meal.
About fifteen minutes passed, and the nurse came in and announced that I could change back into my regular clothes. And as I did, alone in the restroom, I got my first look at my incisions. They were tiny, less than an inch across, and sealed with surgical glue and a row of tight black stitches. But despite their small size, they were incredibly sore, and my stomach was puffy and red from the procedure.
One, two, three…
The nurse said there were four incisions.
Whereis…
I tilted my head down at my stomach, and my insides twisted.
My belly button.
They’d cut open my belly button and stitched it back together.
A nauseating quiver ran down my limbs and up my throat as I scrambled to get dressed, trying to get visuals of how the surgery was performed out of my mind.
