In which I venture far into the TMI category
July 2, 2007
For the past week I have been dealing with a UTI that has left me feeling like an 85 yr old man with prostate trouble.
To back up the story a bit, when I was a kid and young adult I had UTIs chronically, often progressing into kidney infections. So at the first sign of them I get myself to the doctor. Slight pain when I pee, pain in the general area where my bladder should be, wind blowing in a slightly strange direction? Off to the doctor I go.
So when all those thing happened on Monday, along with this heat wave that made me dehydrated and thirsty, I began chugging the water. Propel water to be exact. Propel is gatorade’s version of Vitamin water and my newest drink of choice having given up the diet coke.
Chug chug chug and it wasn’t getting better. In fact I was feeling worse.
First thing Tuesday morning I went to my obgyn. I pee in the cup, they test it, and find no infection. But because of the amount of water I admit to chugging the obgyn thinks the urine is too diluted to pick up the early stages of a UTI. But to be on the safe side she wants to do an exam. Oh FUN! I love those so much and am always thrilled to have one more than once a year.
We are chatting and I am lying there on the table practicing my deep breathing. When she asks, “Are you allergic to anything?”
I started laughing and said, “I am allergic to lots of things. How much time do you have?”
She froze and said, “Like what?”
“Oh nothing you probably need to worry about unless you are going to be pulling some shellfish out of that little drawer down there.”
She laughed. And then proceeded to hand me a mirror so I could have a look at things down there. I felt like I was in an Our Bodies, Ourselves love your vagina sit-in or something.
Anyway, given all the symptoms she prescribed the antibiotic since nothing else was amiss. And I went home and took it and chugged water and cranberry juice until I felt all better. Then I went back to drinking the Propel water with a vengeance, to stay hydrated you know.
And my symptoms came back. Holy hell. Dr Google said I could have bladder cancer, or bladder prolapse, or a host of other things I would rather not have. My eyes were involuntarily welling with tears as I composed goodbye letter to my kids in my head.
Then Rob said, “I bet it is that stupid Propel water.”
And I laughed, pausing long enough from composing my obituary, to tell him how stupid of an idea that was.
But since I didn’t have any better ideas, I figured why not.
You know what happens next right?
In an effort to not waste the “stupid” water and to get it out of the house so I won’t drink it, Rob began drinking it all.
He woke up Sunday morning saying he felt like he had been kicked in the bladder. And I was feeling as good as new.
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