u is for … urology

Day 37:365 Gratitude Challenge and April 25th A to Z Challenge

Today I am grateful for my urologist. Yes, really I am. No, I have not lost my mind. My urologist takes really good care of me and he ‘gets’ me, sarcasm, humour and all. Any time I have seen my urologist, I have always been entertained. Something always happens while I am there, either while I am with the urologist or while sitting in the waiting room.

Take the first time I saw my urologist. I was prepared for a consulation, nothing more. After I checked in, I was taken to a dressing area and asked to change into a hospital gown. You know the ones. If not tied properly your large Irish arse will be hanging out for half the world to see (I’m speaking for myself here because I really do not know if you have a large Irish arse or not. Please know that I am not judging you. I am judging my very own large Irish arse and there is certainly plenty of it to go around.) After I got changed, I thought to myself ‘interesting’; maybe having me in a hospital gown will make it easier for the good ole doc to examine my bladder. How am I to know? I do not have my bladder degree after all. He does. So he must know what he is doing, right?

Imagine my surprise when I was escorted into an operating-type sterilized room with enough bright lights turned on to light up the city of Toronto.

Me:  Hey! This is cool. What am I doing here?

Doctor:  Hi. I’m Doctor X and I am pleased to meet you.

Me:  Right back at you, Doctor X, but what’s going on here?

Dr. X:  You are scheduled for a cystoscopy today.

Me:

Nurse: Oh, dear.

Me: Oh, dear is right. I thought I was here for a consultation not a cystoscopy. Oh well, ‘when in rome’ and all that jazz. Let’s get ‘er done.

So I signed the consent form, hopped up on the table-thingie and proceeded to line my feet up for the stirrup doo-hickeys and, before I knew it, Bob was my uncle, and enough water to fill a swimming pool was sent up into my bladder. Yee haw! Do I know how to have fun or what?

Then I was asked to stand up and hold on to my bladder full of swimming pool water for dear life. Note: no cork was provided to help keep the water in; hospitals are really feeling the budget cuts everywhere these days. So, no cork it was. Kegel exercises it was going to have to be. After a few encouraging pats on the back and a few rounds of ‘well done!’, I was instructed to move over to the area I affectionately called the ‘flood zone.’ Here I was asked to cough. Then I proceeded to piss myself which, for once, was the true object of the exercise. It was another win/win for me.

Dr. X:  My, don’t you have a big bladder!

Me:

Me: Is there a prize or something for having the biggest bladder? Do I get to pass ‘go’ and win a million dollars? Is this something to be proud of?

Dr. X:  Sorry, no. There is no prize. Knowing that you have a big bladder will have to be prize enough.

Me:

Again, always the bridesmaid, never the bride. That visit was several years ago with Dr. X and my big bladder is still hanging in there all big-like. Last year, I was referred to a different urologist, Dr. Who Y. Again, I thought I was going for another consultation. Again, I was wrong. Is it just me or are urologists not very good at telling you what they are going to do to you? Do they think it is fun to play ‘let’s guess what we are going to do with your bladder today?’At least this visit was not for a cystoscopy; it was only for an ultrasound on my bladder. Piece of cake. And no hospital gown.

Where is the entertainment value in that, you ask? Well, the enterainment was all in the waiting room, let me tell you. When I enter a waiting room or any room with people in it for that matter, I always lead with my friendly-friend smile and then offer a greeting of hello. Usually one or two people will smile back or nod their heads in aknowledgement. But not this day. Noooooooo. This day was cold as ice. Everyone was staring at the floor. I mean going to a urologist is certainly not the most fun thing in the world to do but it does not call for e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e. to be acting all-depressed-and-this-is-going-to-be-the-end-of-the-world-like. So I bopped on over to the next available chair and sat myself down.

I pulled out my cell phone to play Candy Crush because what else was a girl gonna do if no one was going to talk to her? That’s when I noticed something orange moving in the corner. Something orange that was surrounded by two protective vest wearing and gun toting police officers. Yep. You guessed it. Right there, three seats over from me was a prisoner from some sort of jail, shackled and everything. Holy moly, no wonder everyone was looking like an episode of ‘Cops’ was going to go down at any minute. 

So I did what any good person would have done. I texted my sons and told them that I was sitting in an urologist’s waiting room with a shackled prisoner surrounded by two armed police officers. Of course, they wanted a picture. Of course, I tried to take one. Of course, I forgot to turn off the sound for the camera. And, of course, the prisoner gave me the dirtiest of looks he could have possibly mustered given his shackled situation and the fact that two armed officers would have happily shot him if he tried to mess with me.

I learned two things in that moment. One is to make sure that the sound is turned off on your camera phone if you want to take a super secret photo on the sly and, two, that trying to play it nonchantly is not my forte. So back to Candy Crush it was. I’m pretty good at that. I’m not gonna lie.

Then this sweet elderly gentleman strolled in with his personal support worker. After they checked in, the man said to his PSW, “I forgot to bring my bottle of piss with me” loud enough that I am sure they heard it over in the Ears, Nose and Throat Department, two floors up, three hospitals away. The PSW nearly died at that very moment. Me, I stiffled the giggles like there was no tomorrow. The prisoner, well, he was not enjoying anything because he was SHACKLED. Hello? How would you feel if you were shackled with two armed police officers surrounding you? Not very happy, I would imagine. Not even a bar of soap was gonna change that fella’s attitude.

The PSW tried to change the subject but this sweet elderly gentlement was having none of it. “It would have been so easy to get it. All I had to do was stand up and piss in the bottle,” he yells. She attempts to explain why they did not need to bring a urine sample to the appointment but, since he was deaf as a post, she had to repeat what she said, yelling. Of course, I texted the boys.

Me: This is THE BEST waiting room entertainment I have ever seen!

YC: Mom, how do you get yourself in these situations anyway?

Me: I don’t know. They just follow me everywhere but isn’t it amazing???

YC:

So you see, life is truly what you make of it. It is finding the humour in the little things, like sitting in a urology waiting room with a shackled prisoner knowing that we are all there because there is something wrong with each and everyone’s pissers. How can you not feel a bond with others who share in that knowledge?

By the way, my over-sized bladder is still okay and my little incontinence problem is still quite manageable. This is all wonderful news because it means that my MS and my bladder are holding their own and that there has been no further nerve damage done after my last flare up. Hooray! Winning!

Big bladder:  1
Shackled prisoner: 0