I don't know if I've blogged about my belly button or not. Probably. But I'm going to blog about it again. Just because I can.
Maybe most people don't think about their belly button, but I think about mine quite a bit. It's an ugly belly button, an outie. Multiple pregnancies have stretched it out and made it squishy and loose, and having kidneys the size of footballs doesn't help with the abdominal pressure. So, it sticks out. A lot. It's annoying. Lately it's *really* been bothering me, and when I brushed against a counter that was belly button height, and thought, "Ouch" when the counter hit my middle, I thought I should maybe mention it to somebody.
So I brought it up briefly with Dr. Steinman, who said that it was an umbilical hernia, and probably should be repaired one of these days. I wondered what "one of these days" meant, and I'm thinking maybe "one of these days" should mean "this month".
I looked it up on google ('cause that's how I roll), and found some info. It's pretty common, happens in women who have been pregnant and overweight individuals, and surgery carries minimal risk with a short recovery time. So I wonder if I should just go ahead and have it repaired. But then I wonder if I should wait until after I get a transplant, when my kidneys presumably shrink from non-use, so as to alleviate the pressure in my abdomen. I mean, once it's repaired, can it herniate again? It's not like my kidneys are getting any smaller, after all. Anybody have experience with this?
The real issue, though, is how many doctors do I have to see to get it done?
I've been tossed into this system of healthcare that has, for the most part, treated me pretty well, but I get tired, SO TIRED, of doctors. I don't want to add another doctor to the mix, just for fun. I'm finally seeing a gynecologist for the first time since my daughter was born, because amidst all of the kidney stuff, I just couldn't deal with the lady parts stuff. Throw in the broken foot, the hamstring, and my cataract stuff, and it just makes me want to crawl into a cave and throw things at people who want to poke me with needles to take care of all my stuff.
And I know as I get older it's going to get worse. My twin sister has already had her first mammogram AND a colonoscopy. The thought of VOLUNTARILY allowing somebody to shove a camera up my butt and squish my breasts into pancakes while also enduring renal ultrasounds and 2 hour abdominal MRIs makes me want to crawl even deeper into that cave and start banging my head against the wall.
(But I won't do that, because I might get a brain injury and need a cat scan. Surprisingly, I've never had one of those.)
I think I have too much stuff.