It's been my policy on this blog thus far to fess up when I go to the doctor and pee in a cup. It's been a few days but I'm not going to hold out on you....Last week my husband burst a blood vessel in his eye and I'm the one that got to give a urine sample.
Neither my husband or I are pregnant. Oh Lord help us if we were. I've forgotten how to do all that baby stuff. Surely I'd buy the wrong color crib mobile and baby would never get into Harvard.
Look at my husband's eyeball.
If your high school history teacher got up in front of the room with this rolling around in their face, do you think you'd give him any attitude? No. You'd sit up straight and take meticulous notes. You'd ask for a pop quiz. You'd beg to read Howard Zinn's "A People's History of the United States". Then you'd gleefully hand in your book report the next day and apologize for not having time to prepare a Powerpoint to go along with it.
I joked about beating my husband, and that's not what happened because the vessel burst while coughing up a french fry that went down the wrong way, so the universe punished me with a urinary tract infection. To save time we made our doctor's appointment together the next day. One exam room is enough to contain our love and commitment.
When we were called in the nurse handed me my cup and I rushed to the bathroom only to discover the light bulb had burned out. There was no way my angry bladder was waiting for a light bulb change. I peed by the light of my cell phone. Romance AND ambiance.
I don't have any photos of that part. Sorry.
Nor do I have any photos of the new doctor at the clinic. Sadly, the previous doctor, Doctor Huggiepants, has moved on to a less rural location and the next freshly minted resident has moved in to take his place. What this means is that new doc has to show off his training a little bit and take a good fifteen minutes listing all the reasons a patient might have contracted their urinary tract infection.
Wiping the wrong direction after using the toilet can do it, sure.
Wearing thong type underpants.
Dehydration. Holding your bladder.
And the type of sexual intercourse illegal in Utah, Idaho and Alabama. That is, if you decide to have the legal type of sex after you've had the illegal types without properly washing and disinfecting yourselves.
Then New Doc, without the benefit of a chart or graphic, explained just how close some parts of my private anatomy were to other parts of my private anatomy, making urinary tract infections a common occurrence amongst women, so I shouldn't worry too much about it.
Then he apologized for being blunt. I had to laugh. It was my turn to explain to him that this wasn't my first rodeo, that I was plenty familiar with my parts, and that a week's worth of a certain type of antibiotic would be appreciated because the other kind makes my innards feel like they will spontaneously combust.
What's funky about all this is that he did not take a similar stretch of time with my husband to explain to him why a mostly harmless subconjunctival hemorrhage can happen. Can illegal sex cause scary eyeballs?
I bet it can. I just bet it can.
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