Will Surgery Fix My Sex Life?

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My lover pours kisses all over my body, caressing each sweet spot with enthusiasm. I lie there and squirm uncomforatbly. We are about to have sex and I’m scared to death. He looks into my eyes and enters me. I know it’s going to hurt. I feel that familiar pain in my belly and begin to cry. I push him away. Just another day in my sex life.

Since May of 2007 when I survived an ectopic pregnancy I have had several reproductive maladies. I’ve had one ovary removed after a huge tumor and endometriosis ravaged it. I’ve had countless ovarian cysts and infections. Now I have a buildup of scar tissue and another case of endometriosis and will soon have to report to surgery for the third time in two years. Everyday I look down at my belly and inspect the seven inch scar above my pubic mound. It’s crooked and a blood blister has formed near the middle of the scar. The crooked fault-line has made my belly fat morph into some parody of a mismatched stuffed animal. I’m puffy and lopsided, and feel assymetrical due to the loss of my ovary. I often run my fingers over the scar and then inspect the bubbled scar in my navel, a result from the laparoscopy surgery that removed a large cyst. It’s twisted, pink and white, like a blister. I love my scars and I love my body. I’m just beginning to hate sex.

The man I love lives 300 miles away. I’m in the backwoods of redneck country and he lives in a throbbing metropolitan. Due to the error of geography and fate, we see each other maybe 6 times a year. During those times, sex hurts. Either it’s been too long and my vagina has to painfully stretch around his girthy cock or our first session after seeing each other leaves me chafed and swollen and sore. The last time we had sex, I felt the familiar twinge of belly pain that I recognized instantly. With each thrust, the pressure increased in my lower abdomen. It felt as if he was poking a huge water balloon; I was afraid I’d burst. It hurt, but I hid it well and we continued to have sex. I downed alcohol and smoked enough pot to kill a horse, and this made sex manageable. I was even able to ride him frantically. The pain was gone, thanks to Patron.

I ignored my problem when I returned home. I ignored the cramps and swollen and tender belly. I ordered a dildo from Eden and readied myself for penetration. I thrust the dildo in deep. Deeper. It hurt so much. I kept thrusting through the tears and pain, trying to make the pain go away. I took my medication for anxiety and fell asleep crying. When I woke up, I called my doctor to make an appointment, the same appointment I’d been in there for several times. I got an ultrasound and peed on the bed, which made me burst in tears. I have a follow-up appointment next Wednesday. Then I’ll get a referral for my gynecologist who will do an office ultrasound, then book me for surgery. I’ve done this many times. At least surgery is less painful than a Brazilian wax.

My problems before had me anxious to recover so I could resume fucking my wonderful boyfriend. Now I’m just afraid. I know I’ll clamp my thighs tightly as he tries to enter me. I will tense up. He will try to relax me and go easy on my pussy. It may or may not hurt but I don’t want to find out. I’m scared of the pain. I’m scared of the possibility of pain. I’m scared for my future. I’m scared I’ll lose my sexuality, my lust, my libido for fear of getting hurt again. I don’t want to lose the wiggle in my walk, the swish in my hips as I go over to my lover to tell him how badly I need him and want him.

I know I’ll get over the physical pain soon enough and I don’t mind another scar, another battle wound. I just don’t the twisted emotional scar of being afraid of the thing that used to drive me, that I craved more than anything. I still do crave sex, but I’m so scared. I don’t want to lose my womanhood. Have I lost it already?

I’ve always been in charge of my sexuality, my fire, that burning passion in my body. It’s flickering out and I feel like I’m just letting it go without a fight. The recurring pain is beating out my lust for sex. I only hope that during my recovery, my sex drive and want recovers with it. I don’t want to be a former shadow of my sexy self, too scarred by life to enjoy the throes of passion.