Cleanup On Aisle Two

I have always thought myself to be fairly modest and retiring. It runs in the family, but I do know that we've gotten a lot more vocal about our health since my diagnosis.

I hope nobody is offended by this post but it's something that I've had to deal with a lot since 2000. When one is dealing with chronic illness, there are often daily complications that may be - shall we say - indelicate? Following my liver resection, I wore an abscess drain for 8 months and had an open wound that took seven months of daily cleaning and bandaging by my dearest Saint H, sometimes as often as three times a day. While taking Sutent, I couldn't keep food down and often had to leave the table during dinner, leaving my friends to wait for me; waitresses and other restaurant diners probably thought I was drunk or something because I was in the bathroom vomiting so much. And I can't even imagine the number of medical folks whose eyes have travelled over all this battered scenery through the years.

After a while I got used to the idea that my modesty isn't as important as my comfort. Right now I'm dealing with thick and acrid bowel movements that have blistered the skin on my butt. I don't know whether it's to do with the steroids or whether it's a purge of the clinical trial drug (I do have nearly a year's worth of that in my system, after all), but I hope that this stops soon. I've been flagging poor Saint H a couple of times a day to check out how the blisters look. And, as I didn't have kids and didn't babysit, I didn't have a clue about what to do.

Fortunately friend/sister C2 is a successful aunt to multiple nieces and nephews, and her years of diapering experience gave me relief. Yep, I figure I've got a bad case of diaper rash, and Desitin is my friend.

The next time I hear some poor sodden child wailing in a public space before a diaper is changed, I won't stop my ears; I will feel and understand your pain.