As a mother who had her babies via c-section, I was not familiar with the concept of a Sitz bath. I knew what it was but had just never participated. That was until about 3:30 a.m. when I pooped razors. Not literally, of course, but close enough. In my infinite wisdom, I thought that a soak in the tub would suffice and I didn’t need to buy a basin for my butt.
That was until the 3am razor poops hit me in my groggy state of mind and forced me into a slippery tub. After I emerged from the tub, I made it my business to order a Sitz bath to be delivered by Door Dash. There was no way I could get my medicated butt back in the tub without risking a brain injury or a broken hip. I prayed no more razor poops would hit before the bath arrived.
The order was made very early, way before the store opened but it arrived shortly after they opened. I met the Door Dash lady on the porch in my pajamas, barefooted. I told her she was a godsend as she looked me up and town with what appeared to be a bit of judgement. I informed her I had just had surgery the day before and couldn’t venture out. She looked at my bare feet and I wanted to tell her my feet were the least of my worries.
I raced inside to set up the bath and learn how to use it. My behind ached and I just wanted some kind of relief. I ripped open the box, expecting to find directions. Instead, I got a bag with a tube attached to it with some haphazard instructions printed on the bag. I tried to follow them the best I could but the stupid tube intended to help refill the basin with hot water wouldn’t stay put. The toilet seat wouldn’t stay up while I was trying to set the basin up, hold the water bottle, fix the tubing, and make sure the water wasn’t going to scald my rear. I was juggling all of this stuff with so much pain I couldn’t half think. As I’m trying to get positioned on the bath and hold the hot water bottle, I realize that the end of the tube is tickling my crotch in the most offensive of ways.
It was at that moment that I realized that I really didn’t need the hot water bottle and the tubing. I didn’t have to hold it sky high waiting to refill the basin with warm water. The water was warm enough and there was no need for unnecessary cooter tickling. I pulled the tubing out and set it all aside to finish my bath. I didn’t realize the magic of hot water on a very achy bottom. The pain was finally manageable and I didn’t feel like I was going to power shoot razors from my anus.
Sometimes we over prepare ourselves for things when in reality simple is best. I tried to follow the directions on the water bottle, thinking if I didn’t I might somehow mess up the bath. But, in actuality, I let that replace my common sense. I didn’t need any instructions to know how to fill the basin with warm water and then sit on it.
Overthinking does this to you. It robs you of the logical answer and replaces it with something much more complex. Sometimes it’s ok to follow the instructions precisely but if it doesn’t work for you, modify! If I had sat there struggling with the water bottle and tubing, I would have given up on the treatment that I so desperately needed. Now that I know it’s not 100% necessary, the process is easy and extremely beneficial. I’ve been able to significantly reduce the pain I was in and feel well on the way to normal again.
Now that I’ve mastered the Sitz bath technique, I think I’ll move on to bigger things like how to not get my feet tangled in my pajama pants.
Messpot Diaries 