This will probably be TMI to some people. I don’t really give a fuck, though, because I need to rant. No one near me is awake, and even if no one reads this thread I have the satisfaction of bitching to my heart’s content.
To begin–
It is not my fault that my urethra is short. I didn’t have much of a choice in that.
I can just imagine floating in the ether, with an all-knowing being looking at my formless spirit and saying, “So what’ll it be? Multiple orgasms? Or… the ability to piss standing up? The frightful possibility of pregnancy and childbirth? Or the ability to piss standing up? A shorter urethra and thus the increased chances for contracting a urinary tract infection? Or… the ability to piss standing up? Well, what do you want to be? A chick or a dude?”
I didn’t *get *that choice. I just got a female body (which I happen to like most of the time) and when it comes to urethras, apparently I got shafted.
Really fucking shafted.
No one ever told me this was part of being a woman. No, I heard all about menstruation and childbirth and locking my car doors when I get in, right away, and cramps and menupause and all that. I’ve heard about all that. No one ever sat down to explain to me that a female’s urethra fucks her over. They don’t make jokes on sitcoms about that.
I LIKE having a vagina, and a vulva and soft squishy girl parts. I think they’re fun and pretty. But I am so goddamn pissed off at my body right now, and it’s not even its fault.
It started yesterday morning around 6 AM. I woke suddenly and stay awake for hours, visiting the bathroom about 15 times that morning. I knew exactly what was going on after the 4th or 5th time. The urgency. The frequency. The burning. I waited, angrily, until the student health services opened at 8:30. I was lucky enough to score a doctor’s appointment and get my prescription dropped off at the pharmacy before my first class. I skipped my second class to pick up my medicine (and cranberry juice) and felt much better. Uncomfortable, still, especially when I tried to pee, but for the most part, pretty good. The pain and discomfort came in fits, and it was tolerable enough that I could sit through class and pay attention.
But now it’s night again (or morning, rather) and I’m feeling shitty again. It’s past 3 am and I can’t sleep because when I lay down I have to pee. I can’t concentrate on anything other than the burning. And the doctor didn’t prescribe painkillers and Advil ain’t working and I’m about ready to give my Female status back because FUCK THIS. I just spent the last three hours in the bathroom because it made no sense to try and leave. My roommate’s asleep in our room, and my boyfriend’s asleep on the couch in the living room and if I stay in either room, I’d keep them awake, going in and out, gnashing my teeth, wailing, etc. So I camped out in the bathroom. I read a book. I peed. I longed for death.
And I long for death now. I long for death because I can’t sleep. And when 9 AM rolls around I have to be at work. Work until 12. And I can’t leave my desk. Which means I can’t go to the bathroom, to grit my teeth as I try desperately to pee and internally scream when I succeed. So I will have to sit still for three hours with a bladder infection, and then go straight to class. And I will not have slept, at least not much, so I will be exhausted. And irritable. AND PISSED OFF. And then there will be another class, and then a meeting. And meanwhile my urethra will continue to torture me, convincing me that my bladder is full and must be emptied when in reality, there is nothing there! And if anything, only a few mocking drops that cause such a line of FIRE to sear up my urinary tract that I almost start crying each time. If I don’t try to pee, it hurts. Once I pee, it hurts. No matter what, IT HURTS. And I am very fucking tired of it hurting.
Everything else is physically fine with me, but there is a burning, RAGING fire in my urethra that cannot be ignored. It hurts. A lot. And I can’t do anything to make it go away besides take my medicine and drink as much water and cranberry juice as I can stand. If I was miserably ill with the flu and had someone to take care of me, I’d feel better about things, I swear. Because I’m fine except I’m NOT. I hurt. Inside in a place that I can’t reach or rub or easily hack off with the nearest blade.
So fuck you, bladder infection. What did I do to deserve you?
I wipe front to back, I pee before and after sex when I can and I certainly do my best to keep clean.
So why me? Why now, the week after spring break? When school is kicking back up and things are getting crazy again? When the boyfriend and I are really doing swell and wanting to make love all the time?
WHY NOW?
<sub>Now I can’t drink on St. Patty’s Day because alcohol’s bad for bladders!</sub>
WHY?
And the worst thing of all is that I know that no matter what I do, I can’t necessarily stop or prevent another UTI. Doctors don’t even understand why they happen sometimes. All I can do is sit here in the hallway on my computer, watching the clock, waiting til I get so tired that I can pass out without being terrified I’ll piss myself, and pray that I get enough sleep to make it through the morning.
Perhaps in a few hours, when I’ve become properly delirious, I will create an effigy of my bladder infection, and destroy it.
GET OUT OF MY BODY. I need to be living my life now.