My lady bits just will not leave me alone. And I, apparently, just can’t stop bitching about them. So, TMI warning. Again.
I woke up this morning with a raging UTI. “Raging” was actually the word the Urgent Care doctor used to describe it – he couldn’t believe it had just showed up this morning, and even showed me the results of my sample to prove how bad it was. Of course, those “results” just looked like a bunch of letters and numbers printed on receipt paper, and meant nothing to me.
I have no idea what caused this: getting my IUD taken out? Having more sex? The “fire and ice” condoms we got from a friend? Wearing too much spandex? In the past, I’ve had UTIs that coincided with my periods, but I haven’t had a period in years, so I can’t place blame there.
Doug was nice enough to come to Urgent Care with me, even though all he did the whole time was sit in the waiting room, growing increasingly frustrated with the woman sitting behind us, who was complaining to her friend about how stressed out and unhappy she was, and how the stress was making her sick. (And you come to Urgent Care, and risk catching a real illness, for that?)
Between the receptionist, the nurse assigned to my case, and the doctor, I got to talk about my feminine discomfort with three men today. And I was reminded of how much I like men. Instead of embarrassed, they each made me feel comfortable: the receptionist reassured me that most of the patients they see are in for UTIs, and that it should be a quick visit, unless I was wrong and had something else – like a heart attack, which, he joked, has similar symptoms and also requires a urine sample; the nurse, who ended up having to test my blood sugar*, recognized right away that I’d milked a finger before, and seemed ready to offer me a glucose tab when I came back at 79 (the high end of low); and the doctor, when he came into the room and I asked how he was doing, said, “It doesn’t hurt when I pee, so I’ve got one up on you.”
If not for the dude with the flu in the curtained “room” next to mine, who was loudly moaning, hacking, and gagging into the sink the whole time I was in there, I might actually say my miserable morning turned into a pleasant afternoon. But now I have to go to work, which, given my state of low blood sugar and being on a couple medications, sounds like a winning situation in and of itself. Wish me luck.
*Because they also inexplicably found sugar in my urine. I asked the doctor if that could’ve been a result of the “fire and ice” condoms too, and he said maybe – then added that he and his wife had tried a similar condom once, and had no idea what the big deal is.