And This Is How It Goes

Expletive!

That's how I feel. I've said and thought so many expletives that I'm certain my dad is on his way back to ground me or something.

I have a bladder infection. Not just a bladder infection, but the mother of all bladder infections. We're talking I feel as if I have to tinkle every twenty minutes, so I rush to the potty and it's plink! P-L-I-N-K! On top of that it hurts like words that I cannot say and that I'm afraid to type. OUCH!

It began brewing on Friday but I had not clue what was going on. By Saturday, I was pretty sure something was wrong. Mrs. O-to-Be and all of her pharmacist knowledge diagnosed me and took me to get over the counter meds to alleivate symptons until I could get an antibiotic. This was great until shortly after taking the meds and I once again visited the bathroom. Then, I screamed.

Strike up the Pride of the Southland and cue Rocky Top because folks, I had it! What is it?

BIG ORANGE TINKLE!

For-the-love-of-everything-good I just knew that I was dying. I have alumni school spirit, but this was ridiculous! Perhaps that the fish I'd eaten contained too much mercury and now I was radio active. Or, I need to back off the sweet potato casserole? Actually, none of the above. Mrs. O-to-Be informed me it was the meds. Way to scare a girl who already suffers lab-coat syndrome.

After a painful Sunday I did everything I could to get an antibiotic or doctor's appointment on Monday. My gynecolgist informed me that she could see me on Tuesday.

Me: Tuesday? I CAN'T WAIT UNTIL TUESDAY! I'm on death's door! By Tuesday I'll be in the ER with kidney stones. I. HAVE. TO. SEE. YOU. TODAY!

I got an appointment at 3.

I arrive 5 minutes early but being the emergency appointment all those regularly scheduled that arrived at 3:15 were seen first. But I'm not bitter. Luckily I had a book and ring pop in my purse for entertainment.

At 4 I'm taken back for the normal blood pressure, getting weighed, etc. and then have to give a "urine specimen." Does anything sound nastier than "urine specimen"? I think not. Just call it like it is, pee-in-a-cup. After making a big orange cup of pee (not to be confused with cup of tea!) I was ready to get my prescription and leave.

But I didn't get to.

The nurse takes me to a room, gives me a glorified paper towel and tells me to "undress from the waist down." I wanted to cry. I'm a horrible patient and spreading my legs for the doctor was not on my agenda today. I really have to psych myeslf up for the yearly exams when I'm required to go. I huff and puff and strip down, but I leave on my socks. Something about that makes me not feel too naked. I sit on the little table with my glorified paper towel and wait. I'm somewhere between expletives and crying. I'd put on my big girl panties and deal with it, but they're in the floor.

Finally the doctor comes in and does the thing that doctors do. When she asked me if it hurt I wanted to kick her given the close proximity of my foot and her head.

OF COURSE IT EXPLETIVE HURTS! YOU HAVE THINGS SHOVED UP MY CROTCH AND ARE POUNDING ON MY STOMACH! IT WOULD HURT EVEN IF THERE WAS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!

So there I was in horrible pain, feet in stirrups, with a the doctor poking and prodding me all over and getting luckier than my husband had all weekend given my issues, my big girl panties in the floor and my brain telling my foot to kick, my pride thrown right out the window, and wearing my polka dot socks and pretty new sweater. And all I wanted was a freaking antibiotic!

She tells me to drink lots and gives me the prescription. Drink lots of what? Wine? That's what I'm thinking. I asked her how I contraced this said bladder infection to which she answers "being a girl." WTF kind of answer is that? I've been and expletive girl for 25 years and have never had this issue. Finally I got further explanations that I'm sure you all know as well as not wearing my sweaty work-out pants after I run and to sometimes wear a bathrobe and not underwear while around the house. WTH?

Yes, that was my day. Don't feel sorry for me, I'll just be consoling myself in a fat-free, vanilla frozen yogurt (crazy girl!) and waiting for my hubby to come home and cook me dinner. Send chocolate, I mean wine. Actually, I mean both.

And about bladder infections, don't get one. They suck!