That is the sum of my life, on that day.
You have never lived until you've had a Urinary Tract Infection ("UTI"). True story, my first UTI was almost 20 years ago. I got it from too leisurely a bath, shaving my legs, in preparation for a sexy fun filled trip to Canada with my boyfriend at the time.
Nothing turns a trip more sexy than a trip to the Canadian Emergency Room.
Pissing blood and kicking your legs around while holding your crotch to try and distract yourself from the searing pain piercing your peeper is not how you want to spend time alone, let alone with anyone else. Thank God for free medical care in Canada.
About two weeks ago the lady bits were searing a little bit as I tucked into bed. I had a faint, distant fear rush over me - dear God! I hope this isn't what I think it is... Stubborn, I tried to tuck in and get some sleep for the 6:30am conference call I needed to be on. At 1:30 I woke in a sweat, needing to pee and knew - I. AM. FUCKED.
I called my General Physician's ("GP") emergency line, desperate to reach her or the doctor on call, to phone in a prescription to my local 24 hour pharmacy. This is the kind of shit I have to take into consideration when dating or moving; is there a 24 hour pharmacy nearby for when some dumb bullshit comes up? My ex before My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") lived in Santa Barbara and let me tell you, there isn't a mother fucking 24 hour CVS or RiteAid anywhere remotely close to that town. I should have known it was doomed.
Luckily my GP got the pleading message and called in an antibiotic. It took a few restless hours for the over the counter pee pain reliever and the first dose of meds to kick in. It goes without saying I was not on that early morning conference call. And whoever scheduled a call that early - no one on the Westcoast wants to be up that early asshole!
7 days later I finished up my antibiotics.
But something just didn't...feeeeel right.
Turns out my hunch was right about the not feeeeeling 100%. After a physical visit to my GP we found out I had another form of bacteria still lurking around the lady bits. Cue another visit to the 24 hour CVS for more meds. Now, due to COVID but mostly due to the sick and gangly people that you see inside a CVS, I typically snatch whatever the pharmacist slides across the counter to me and high tail it out of there. This time though, the lady asks me if I've taken the medication my doctor prescribed me. Stupidly, I answered no which resulted in her pulling back my meds, placing it in a little plastic tray, and sliding it over to the "Consultation" window for a different pharmacist to come talk to me.
In hindsight I'm glad second pharmacist lady and I had a little chat. At first I thought damnit she's wasting my time, telling me to take two twice a day with water blah blah blah, all the while the line of vacant, scraggly looking people lingering around the pharmacy are starting to pile up... Right as I'm ready to say yeah, yeah give me the fucking meds before The Walking Dead breaks out in here, she proceeds to tell me "and don't drink while taking the medication and for an additional 3 days after finishing the medication. You'll have PROJECTILE VOMITING."
I'm sorry, what?
It's not every day some warns you about the threat of potential projectile vomiting. I figured, shit. This bitch is onto me; although I've been doing dry January for the first time in ever she must know I love to mix my meds and my drinks. Together.
And no, if you're wondering, I'm not planning on drinking for the required 10 days but damn it all if I didn't really need a drink this week, particularly that day.
I was already stressed out by work at 10am. I had to rush to the doctor on a cancellation appointment to find out I was still sick. And raced back home to get on a conference call...
All to have the cat jump up on me and smear liquid kitty shit across my hand.
While the Vice President is telling you how to get something done you can't exactly say, "I'm sorry, can you give me a minute? My cat just smeared shit across my hand."
I mean, you can. But I didn't. I just put the call on mute, freaked and grossed out a little bit, washed my hand, and grabbed a wet wipe to address Jaja's backside.
For more on my cat's booty: https://thesillyshitwesay.blogspot.com/2021/01/i-want-assquatch.html
So, yeah. Some days are not for winning.
Some days it's just antibiotics, the potential for projectile vomiting, and fur baby shit smears.
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