There is nothing more frustrating than hearing there is nothing wrong with you when you’ve clearly had issues. Like seriously, how is that even possible? I had a CT scan with urogram to help find some answers to my recurring UTI problem. After making the stupid decision to Google why this procedure is done, my anxiety level hit new levels. Then I met with my urologist, who walked into the room saying, “I have good news and bad news. Not terrible news, not horrible news, just not good news.” All of the swear words.
This whole thing has been one giant catch-22 to begin with. I was scared they were going to tell me I had bladder cancer and I was scared they were going to tell me they didn’t know why I was having issues. Either way, I felt like I was going to be screwed. Turns out, I was right. Apparently, I’m just one of those people who gets UTIs and has them frequently. All my plumbing is good; perfect was actually the word used. So until I have another one, I just have to drink my weight in water and hope for the best. Here’s hoping I catch the signs before I end up in the hospital.
Now honestly, this irritated the hell out of me. Here I am trying to be boss, wife, and momma and now I still have to worry about getting sick; possibly so sick, I end up away from my family and job. And the only real preventative measure is drink water and pee. Those are literally my doctor’s orders.
But today, as I was running out of my office to run a zillion errands, I realized, hey there’s nothing seriously wrong with me. I get to be around to be boss, wife, and momma. Hot dog, I’m one healthy mamma jamma (ok that may be a stretch; my current BMI is my age). I’m desperately trying to hold on to this happy feeling but every twinge in my back makes me wonder if I should go to urgent care. Somewhere in all of this, there has to be a happy medium.
In the meantime, I will drink the *%&($ water and pee.