What I had done to me this week and why
Friday, 29 October 2010 14:33![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maugornSo, did *you* ever think you'd say to someone on the phone:
"No thank, you. I'd prefer to keep me 9:30 appointment. Ask someone *else* if they'd like to have their junk probed at godawful early in the morning."?
I didn't either.
Therein lies the tale.
Ok, maybe you were there three years ago at a pleasant little filk Con in Rockville MD and you saw me looking kind of down, grey, ashen, maybe- NOT myself. Maybe you noticed me sitting on a couch kind of dazed. Or maybe you were talking to me when suddenly I had to run to the loo- for the fourth time in an hour. Maybe you might have seen me NOT just picking up and carrying the stage platforms I'd lent to the con, but very _UN-carefully flopping them onto (and then off of) dollies and clumsily attempting to steer them, and just getting upset at my inability to do so and reluctantly letting other people do it for me.
Maybe you were there at Pennsic two years ago and thought I had a case of heat stroke or heard my tale of sleeping for 18 hours because I was "sick". Or heard my tale that I had become a living "miracle" producing and eliminating more water than I'd drunk.
Maybe you saw me *this* year at Pennsic, joking about becoming a "living miracle" AGAIN, as I attempted to perform without my usual spark and vigour.
Yes they all have something in common. It was a recurrent, acute infection in my prostate that would then swell and press against my bladder, forcing me to have to go- ALOT and when the infections were bad enough, dehydrating me anyway despite gallons of water and gatorade. I would run a fever. I would have no energy.
I would even lose my appetite. By way of illustration (I'll assume you've seen me eat and were properly scared by the sight)
On the first occasion, on the way to said con, I was STARVING. I stopped at 7-11, bought two hot dogs, ate one, and I WAS DONE. I just didn't FEEL like eating more. I may have sat in the van and cried. I know I was upset- but not for long, because I needed to get to the con and find a BATHROOM.
This last time, at Pennsic, a friend had come to help me and Sonya actually set up our camp. I had sort of collapsed in tears half way thru our first attempt two days earlier. That done, we had dinner- where I PICKED at my food: a small chunk of cheddar on bread, some canned peaches, and a bit of soup- for about half an hour.
After I just sort of slunk off to sleep, I heard our friend remark to Sonya how sad & scary it was to see me without any of my "spark".
So, yeah, recurrent acute prostatitis. NOT FUN.
Bactrim was starting to become my best friend.
So when this first happened I went to a urologist who performed "The worst probe ever". Not because he did it badly, but well, because! ok?
He said that if this problem I had recurs or continues, to come back and we'd talk options.
So it did.
And I did.
And upon further examinations of the incidents, and what they had in common, and the seeming inevitability of them, a further diagnosis was made:
Bladder neck obstruction.
I just wasn't able to eliminate my waste liquid with the efficiency I needed. And pressure would build up, and under times of stress, stuff got irritated, then infected.
The solutions: some sort of medication that would more or less be a life sentence, including regular bouts of successively more vicious antibiotics for as long they were effective, OR
a "DVU" where the constriction on the bladder neck was relieved surgically.
So that's what I had yesterday. It happened in the morning, and tho I was *offered* the chance to have it happen extra early due to a cancellation, I refused that offer. But even so, it did happen, and afterwards I was driven home with not too many lingering anaesthesia effects, but *with* a catheter inserted and instructions to leave it in overnight.
And THAT'S what ruined my mood yesterday. That was the most UN-comfortable thing I've EVER experienced that didn't really hurt. Truth to be told, I'd RATHER have been probed by aliens.
Today, it stings some to eliminate waste liquid, but it's better than the damn catheter.
The urologist said that it was quite the 'blockage' that he eliminated, but that it went well and that I'll be fine.
That will hopefully, manifest in the near future. Especially hopeful is that I won't have this evil infection waiting to jump on me and ruin my happy places and times.
All credit for my lack of any real suffering thru this process (including the times I was sick) goes to Sonya, who was there with any DVD I asked for, pillows, blankets, help getting up and down, comfort food, and comfort.
I'm sure I was far surlier and more whiny than she deserved for her efforts.
"No thank, you. I'd prefer to keep me 9:30 appointment. Ask someone *else* if they'd like to have their junk probed at godawful early in the morning."?
I didn't either.
Therein lies the tale.
Ok, maybe you were there three years ago at a pleasant little filk Con in Rockville MD and you saw me looking kind of down, grey, ashen, maybe- NOT myself. Maybe you noticed me sitting on a couch kind of dazed. Or maybe you were talking to me when suddenly I had to run to the loo- for the fourth time in an hour. Maybe you might have seen me NOT just picking up and carrying the stage platforms I'd lent to the con, but very _UN-carefully flopping them onto (and then off of) dollies and clumsily attempting to steer them, and just getting upset at my inability to do so and reluctantly letting other people do it for me.
Maybe you were there at Pennsic two years ago and thought I had a case of heat stroke or heard my tale of sleeping for 18 hours because I was "sick". Or heard my tale that I had become a living "miracle" producing and eliminating more water than I'd drunk.
Maybe you saw me *this* year at Pennsic, joking about becoming a "living miracle" AGAIN, as I attempted to perform without my usual spark and vigour.
Yes they all have something in common. It was a recurrent, acute infection in my prostate that would then swell and press against my bladder, forcing me to have to go- ALOT and when the infections were bad enough, dehydrating me anyway despite gallons of water and gatorade. I would run a fever. I would have no energy.
I would even lose my appetite. By way of illustration (I'll assume you've seen me eat and were properly scared by the sight)
On the first occasion, on the way to said con, I was STARVING. I stopped at 7-11, bought two hot dogs, ate one, and I WAS DONE. I just didn't FEEL like eating more. I may have sat in the van and cried. I know I was upset- but not for long, because I needed to get to the con and find a BATHROOM.
This last time, at Pennsic, a friend had come to help me and Sonya actually set up our camp. I had sort of collapsed in tears half way thru our first attempt two days earlier. That done, we had dinner- where I PICKED at my food: a small chunk of cheddar on bread, some canned peaches, and a bit of soup- for about half an hour.
After I just sort of slunk off to sleep, I heard our friend remark to Sonya how sad & scary it was to see me without any of my "spark".
So, yeah, recurrent acute prostatitis. NOT FUN.
Bactrim was starting to become my best friend.
So when this first happened I went to a urologist who performed "The worst probe ever". Not because he did it badly, but well, because! ok?
He said that if this problem I had recurs or continues, to come back and we'd talk options.
So it did.
And I did.
And upon further examinations of the incidents, and what they had in common, and the seeming inevitability of them, a further diagnosis was made:
Bladder neck obstruction.
I just wasn't able to eliminate my waste liquid with the efficiency I needed. And pressure would build up, and under times of stress, stuff got irritated, then infected.
The solutions: some sort of medication that would more or less be a life sentence, including regular bouts of successively more vicious antibiotics for as long they were effective, OR
a "DVU" where the constriction on the bladder neck was relieved surgically.
So that's what I had yesterday. It happened in the morning, and tho I was *offered* the chance to have it happen extra early due to a cancellation, I refused that offer. But even so, it did happen, and afterwards I was driven home with not too many lingering anaesthesia effects, but *with* a catheter inserted and instructions to leave it in overnight.
And THAT'S what ruined my mood yesterday. That was the most UN-comfortable thing I've EVER experienced that didn't really hurt. Truth to be told, I'd RATHER have been probed by aliens.
Today, it stings some to eliminate waste liquid, but it's better than the damn catheter.
The urologist said that it was quite the 'blockage' that he eliminated, but that it went well and that I'll be fine.
That will hopefully, manifest in the near future. Especially hopeful is that I won't have this evil infection waiting to jump on me and ruin my happy places and times.
All credit for my lack of any real suffering thru this process (including the times I was sick) goes to Sonya, who was there with any DVD I asked for, pillows, blankets, help getting up and down, comfort food, and comfort.
I'm sure I was far surlier and more whiny than she deserved for her efforts.
