This moment finds me on the back deck, doing my best to relax as I glare at the imposing Catalina Mountains, ten days after the worst, most nightmarish days of my life. A catheter winds into my fatigued body in an area that you really do not want anything making ugly intrusion into your weakened system.
I knew that I had a URI (Urinary Tract Infusion) a few days before I finally picked up a phone. The doctor’s office did confirm that I did have the suspected URI, and it was shared that it is very bad.
I slugged along with my new condition, popping a five-day supply of antibiotics, while my urinary stream headed, insidiously, toward a dribble, with an additional dose of minor pain seeping in. This five-day would be greatly extended as the UTI continued its painful grip.
Urination was becoming a more challenging task as my urinary tract was closing up. I knew I was heading toward trouble as I reflected on a previous catheter episode eight years ago and witnessing my father, who valiantly endured a similar situation recently. Like father, like son, seems to be appropriately placed here in the story.
By the evening, I was having trouble with pain, concentration, and my scattered thoughts of what should happen next. The trouble with peeing was now a past issue. I could not pee. Period.
My lovely experience of being on a catheter previously did not thankfully involve the additional effect of a tormenting surge of discomfort, but "‘I could not pee’ had enticed me to the ER while in Alaska, while being diagnosed with an enlarged Prostate Gland.
I began to pack my bag for a visit to ER.
My quiet, reserved nature creates a rather mellow bubble around my personality. I now had become a very verbal individual. The ‘screaming monkeys’ pain needed to escape the turmoil that was going on in my brain and body. It had become the worst day of my life.
A quick, nervous, glance at the clock revealed that it was about 1 am. My options now included:
* Driving the half-hour to the hospital (while desiring to be
self-sufficient I had a tough time seeing this option happening).
* Calling an ambulance.
* Calling an uber
* Calling my friend nearby
* Borrowing a self-catheter that my dad possessed and playing doctor.
No, I could just chin-up to self cathing. I also knew that I needed a bit more than that for my well-being. Also, I could not envision driving myself. Nope.
This is when the story edges into a new level of the UGH factor mixed in with some exceptional blessings that I was trying to acknowledge during this bleak and sometimes noisy period.
Blessing #1 would unveil its beauty as I called Eric for a possible ride to ER. It was after 1 am and I expected either leaving a message and scrambling back to my options list or a semi-coherent response from someone who had been asleep and was startled late a night with a surprising, phone chiming. Two rings and I was greeted with a jovial hello. This was not on the list of expectations. This came together as he had been on an unexpected overseas phone call.
Off we rolled toward ER. I had a deeply uncomfortable feeling about what was next. My mother had a recent ER excursion which was about six hours while my dad topped out at ten hours in a recent ER outing. I can truly say that with the pain-o-meter humming in the stratosphere it was rather unthinkable to possibly endure 1/2 day or beyond much of which would be in the ER lobby. After the ER experiences via my mom and dad, I opted to take my chances at a slightly more distant hospital. A wise choice as I strolled into Northwest Hospital and saw that there was a single, sleeping person sprawled across a chair in the lobby.
Quick check-in and I was ushered to a room and assured that I would be attended to very soon. I dropped my items into a free chair and began to pace, with urgency and scattered thoughts pinging the walls confining me. My newfound verbal side bounced off the walls and through the closed doorway, I am sure alarming those strolling the hallway. I have not experienced pain to such depths. Desperation raged through my system as I nervously waited.
I have leaned on drawing to capture moments of my parents medical appointments, etc. Now I am capturing my own moment. I was in a horrible state so it is a very rough sketch, but does share the moment. The drawing pad and pencil are near the edge of the bed.
Blessing #2 would see relief within one hour and forty minutes after entering the hospital. This was hours and hours less than I anticipated, although my evening was not over. They had inserted a catheter to drain my bladder (about twenty-four ounces), but it was removed and the clock began to tick as I rehydrated with about twenty-eight ounces of liquid to see if I could urinate.
At about forty-five minutes I still was not in the pee zone and I decided to get out of the grasp of the hospital bed and drift around the room.
Episode two began, immediately after I stood up and I realized that the worst moment of my life had returned for another horrifying episode.
I stumbled to the call button and called for assistance, in the best urgent manner I could muster. I was not ready for a round two.
It was now evident that pee was not going to happen and that I had some lingering issues that would affect me in the near and possibly distant future. My father had recently had urinary tract issues and ended up with his prostrate removed. He has valiantly dealt with the situation and I have an excellent role model to learn from and hopefully follow.
Like father, like son