Brunch. Under the Knife

The countdown gets real

Photo by Briona Baker on Unsplas

Photo by Briona Baker on Unsplash

Once upon a time there was a woman. She turned fifty-four years old on December 17, in the Year of Our Lord*, 2020. This woman had been pregnant several times and given birth to three healthy (read: large) children via the usual way (i.e. not via surgery) while in her late twenties.

And because of these two things—being post menopausal and mother of three now grown but once large newborn children—in June 2021, her body began to betray her. At first it felt like she had fat tampon syndrome, but it didn’t take long to dismiss that since she’d tossed her last tampon two years prior. At second, it was manageable thanks to working out and actively engaging Ye Olde Pelvic Floor Muscles a.k.a. “kegels.” But by the fall of 2021 it was obvious that she wasn’t going to kegel her way out of this thing.

And now, a full year and some change after the leading edge of discomfort that by the time she drove 11 hours with a dog and two cats to move house was edging toward pain, she’s getting Something Done About It.

Ok enough with the literary 3rd person POV. She is me. And I have severe vaginal prolapse with stress incontinence. And it sucks mightily, pretty much 24 hours a day. The more I read about how “common” this “condition” is the madder I get that any woman has or had to just “live with it.”

"It” is not chronic pain, or depression, or insomnia, or other things that are debilitating in their own right. But trust me when I tell you that “it” leads to all of the above. “It” is actually hard to describe especially you do not have a vagina. But bear with me while I try, at least for the people with vaginas amongst us. Picture a cantelope. Now imagine it hanging so low down in your vagina that you can feel it with your fingers. That melon gets in the way of your bladder and your rectum which you sort of need to function in order to feel, you know, “normal.” It sometimes moves around, depending on if you’re standing, sitting, or lying down. But in any of those positions, it is a 10 out of 10 on the scale of uncomfortable. And do not even get me started on the fact that I can barely stand my husband looking at me, much less touching me ANYWHERE because, You know, I have a flipping melon in my vagina and the only way I get any relief is to somehow get more or less upside down because, gravity.

All right, that said, I am a mere two days away from some major surgery, barring an a-symptomatic positive covid test. If that happens, I’m not quite sure how I’ll take it. I have literally been counting the days to said major surgery and the subsequent six to eight week recovery period for so long the thought of someone looking me in the eye and saying “sorry, you have COVID no surgery for you!” makes me retch.

So let’s just operate on the assumption that I will have the surgery as planned at 7:30 a.m. on Tuesday, July 26 and will come home the next day and my life will slowly, surely, slip back into place…sans any large fruit in my nether regions and with my bladder back where it belongs.

I’ve been surprised to discover that more than one, or two, or even three of the women I have told about this have said to me “Oh I have that and I’m too embarrassed to go to the doctor about it.” I have told all of these women, loudly, that there is nothing to be embarrassed about and the longer they wait, the crappier their lives will become. So if you have it or even think you have it, GET TO AN EXPERT and get a diagnosis so you can get on your way to treatment.

Wish me luck. I’ve never had anesthesia for longer than it takes to run a colonoscopy and this is going to take the better part of five hours, I’m told. I’m nervous about that but my excitement at getting my damn life back is much stronger.

OK so what’s with the Brunch in the title? I’ve always said I’m not a fan of brunch, mainly because I know what a PITA it is for restaurants. But I’m on a bit of a brunch tear lately for whatever the hell reason and can recommend the following places here in Greenville:

Southern Culture Kitchen and Bar is off the beaten track (i.e. is not downtown or in any of the more chi chi, downtown-adjacent places) but we went there on Father’s Day and had a lovely time. Our server was painfully new at her job, but did her best and the food was good, the drinks creative, and the setting was solid. My only complaint was that even though we sat outside (which we could do since it was not as hot as Satan’s Bunghole that day) there were ceiling fans running that made it hard to focus on anything written due to the way the sun was positioned. I.e. I got a little sea sick trying to read the menu but once we got past that, all was good. I suggest going there when the sun is not overhead if you want to sit outside. I had the Southern Omelet and my hubs (the “father” celebrating his day) had Dixie Land Poutine. I give it 3.5 stars for service (but with the understanding that it was obvious we had a rookie), and 4 stars for food, with 3 stars for atmosphere but part of that was our fault for choosing outdoors at high noon. Will we go again? Yes.

Stella’s Southern Brasserie was truly lovely. It’s not downtown either but is in a new building that has residential and small, boutique retail closer to downtown. It wasn’t crowded that Sunday so we had the full attention of a lot of folks. We sat near the bar, which I always recommend—even though AT the bar is better. I had a lovely mimosa (naturally, it is brunch after all) but with cherry juice which was surprisingly nice. Their fancy gin & tonic was good too. We shared the quiche du jour, a specialty (off menu) salad which was amazing, and shrimp and grits (a staple, but well done.) I give it 5+ stars for atmosphere and service, 4 stars for food. Will we go again? Yes.

Up on the Roof is on the roof (natch) of the Embassy Suites, downtown Greenville. It was a little hard to locate (we’re still new here) but it was a fun experience. We had excellent, attentive service from a young man who was of the “flirt with the old ladies and they tip better” school. And it worked. We were unable to avoid the ubiquitous pimento cheese (it’s total Food Group here in South Carolina and I am not complaining about that) and had it in an omelet. It was delicious and creative. We also had another staple menu item: chicken and biscuits which had the most amazing whisky maple syrup. But the appetizer was a total chef’s kiss board of beautiful deviled eggs along with our (can’t be avoided) “bottomless mimosas.” It was sort of a dreary day so we weren’t able to sit out on the roof and enjoy the view but I give this one 5* all around. Will we go again? The answer isn’t if but when.

Okay it’s time to all hold hands and manifest a NEGATIVE COVID TEST for me on Monday so that by this time next week, I’m a sold four days into a long but much anticipated recovery.

xoxo

Liz

*MY Lord looks and acts like Alanis Morissette a la the movie DOGMA, one of my favorites. YOUR Lord can be whatever you like him/her/it to be.