My Story

Four years, four surgeries, and a whole lot of sitz baths.

I didn't set out to build a website about fistulas. Nobody does. But here I am and if you're reading this, you probably have a pretty good idea why.

It Started With a Bump

About four years ago, I noticed a bump near my tailbone area. Uncomfortable. Weird. The kind of thing you Google at 2 AM and immediately regret.

Turns out it was an abscess. My doctor drained it, and I thought that was the end of it. The thing is, nobody really explained what was going on beneath the surface — what an abscess in that area could mean, what the risks were, or what I should be watching for. And I'll be honest: I didn't ask enough questions. I trusted the process. I figured the professionals had it covered.

That was my first mistake.

The First Surgery

What I didn't know at the time was that the abscess had formed a fistula, an abnormal tunnel between the inside of my anal canal and the skin outside. My general surgeon recommended a fistulotomy, which is one of the more common surgical fixes. I was told it was a relatively straightforward procedure.

Going in, I thought this would be a quick fix. A few days of discomfort, maybe a week off work, and I'd move on with my life.

That is not what happened.

The recovery was brutal. Way harder than anything I'd been prepared for. Sitting was a nightmare. Wound care was a full-time job. And the information vacuum was staggering, nobody handed me a guide on how to do a sitz bath properly, how to manage drainage, or how to sleep without waking up in pain. I had to figure all of that out on my own, piecing together tips from Reddit threads and medical forums at 3 AM.

The thing nobody tells you about fistula surgery? The procedure itself is the easy part. It's the weeks after that test you.

The Surgery Failed

After weeks of difficult recovery, I got the news: the fistulotomy hadn't worked.

If you've been through a failed fistula surgery, you know the gut-punch feeling. All of that pain, all of that careful wound management, all of those miserable sitz baths and you're back to square one. It's demoralizing in a way that's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't been through it.

Finding a Specialist

That's when I realized I needed to stop treating this like a simple problem and find someone who specialized in it. I found a colorectal surgeon, something I wish I'd done from day one.

The colorectal surgeon confirmed what I'd feared: the first surgery had failed. He also gave me a clearer picture of what I was actually dealing with — a complex transsphincteric fistula, meaning the tract passed through a significant portion of the sphincter muscle. That classification matters, because it rules out simple fixes and explains why the wrong approach can cause real damage. And because of how things had healed (or hadn't), a repeat fistulotomy wasn't an option. The anatomy was too complicated now. Instead, he recommended trying fibrin glue, a less invasive approach where a biological adhesive is injected into the fistula tract to seal it shut. But first, he placed a seton.

If you don't know what a seton is, picture a thin rubber loop threaded through the fistula tract and tied loosely. It keeps the tract open so it can drain, prevents new abscesses from forming, and gives the area time to calm down before the next procedure. Living with a seton is its own special kind of experience.

A Brief Win, Then Back Again

The fibrin glue procedure was much easier to recover from than the fistulotomy. And for a little while, it actually worked. The tract seemed to be healing. I started to think maybe this was finally over.

It wasn't.

The fistula came back. Again.

Here's the reality that nobody prepares you for: fistulas have a significant recurrence rate. Depending on the type and complexity, some procedures fail 30–50% of the time. Knowing that statistic and living that statistic are two very different things.

Where I Am Now

I've had another seton placed, and my surgeon and I are planning an advancement flap procedure, a more involved surgery where tissue is repositioned to close the internal opening of the fistula. It's a bigger operation with a longer recovery, but for complex or recurring fistulas, it's often the next step.

I won't sugarcoat it: four years into this, there are days when I'm frustrated. Days when the whole situation feels absurd. Days when I'm tired of explaining to people why I can't sit in a normal chair for an hour.

But here's what those four years have also given me: a very specific, very hard-won education in what actually helps during fistula recovery and what doesn't.

Why I Built This Site

Throughout all of this, the thing that frustrated me most wasn't the pain or the setbacks. It was the information gap.

When I was first diagnosed, there was no single place that told me what to expect in plain, honest language. No one laid out the practical stuff: what to buy before surgery, how to set up your bathroom, how to manage wound care at work, how to have an honest conversation with your partner about what's happening.

The medical sites gave me anatomy diagrams. The forums gave me horror stories. What I needed was something in between a resource built by someone who'd actually lived it, focused on the practical logistics of getting through recovery without losing your mind.

That's what Rear View Recovery is.

Every article on this site comes from real experience mine and the broader community of patients I've connected with along the way. I'm not a doctor. I'm not going to tell you what treatment to choose or what medication to take. What I am going to do is tell you exactly which cushion saved my ability to work from a desk, which portable bidet is worth the money, and how to pack a go-bag for a long day away from home.

The stuff your surgeon doesn't cover. The stuff you shouldn't have to figure out alone at 2 AM.

Important: Everything on this site reflects personal experience and community-sourced tips — not medical advice. Every fistula case is different. Always discuss treatment decisions with your colorectal surgeon or gastroenterologist. What worked for me may not be right for your situation.

If any of this sounds familiar, you're in the right place. Start with You Just Got Diagnosed: Now What? if you're early in the process, or then head to Your First Week After Fistula Surgery: What to Actually Expect if you'd had your surgery.

And if you want a weekly check-in from someone who gets it, practical tips, product finds, and the occasional dark joke about sitz baths, join the newsletter.

You're not alone in this. And it does get more manageable. I promise.