Typed up last night.

Well, I wasn't going to write about it but may as well update. The visit to the urologist was lousy. It wasn't horrific, but it was lousy and made me feel that I'd probably have been better off just living with whatever this is rather than going to all this trouble since I seem to be getting nowhere. The appointment was for 5PM but it wasn't until almost six before we were finally called in so that was pretty lame. I guess exact times don't count for much anymore. I first spoke with a nurse and honestly she was the only friendly person out of the whole experience. Asked me the usual questions, bla bla, took the blood pressure and weighed me and whatnot. Asked me if I feel if I'm thoroughly emptying my bladder whenever I urinate and I said yes. She then asked if I could go to the bathroom right now and I said yes. Not for a sample (I'd already provided one), just to see if I could empty my bladder and she would do an ultrasound to see if I had. I went to the bathroom and returned and lay down on the table or whatever it is; she said this involved nothing invasive and the scan would be "above the hairline," yet when she pulled at my waistband she pulled it a bit too far for my comfort and I hurriedly covered myself in embarrassment. "You're a private person, aren't you?" she said, to which I agreed; she did the ultrasound and my bladder was in fact empty, as I could have told them, if there's one thing I'm good at it's emptying my bladder. So that's not part of the issue.

When the urologist came in he didn't even say hello or anything, just sat down and looked at the computer for a few moments, then started asking questions. I didn't like him. He wasn't rude or anything, just didn't have any bedside manner. It's the little things I notice, like the nurse saying I was a private person. When people don't bother with the little things, I notice that too and it bugs me. We went through the whole spiel of questions and answers bla bla bla, it all eventually boiled down to him telling me to cut back on caffeine since that irritates the bladder (this, even after I told him I'm only drinking two lousy cups of tea a day now plus one caffeine pill equal to one cup of coffee, caffeine is not irritating my bladder, give me a f**king break), they'll do a bit more checking out and then put me on a medication for overactive bladder to see if that helps then move on from there. Which pissed me off too since I DON'T HAVE OVERACTIVE BLADDER. I don't match any of the frigging symptoms of that! I'm actually PEEING too much and then too little, and I'm not incontinent. The first doctor pretty much ruled that out. I ruled that out. I was honestly hoping he'd just do his test then shuttle me off to somebody who really MIGHT know what's wrong with me since I know it's not a urological problem, I'm only seeing him as he's the next step in the stupid process. Go figure he'd decide to take a longer look at me. I'll take the stupid medication if they prescribe it--maybe it'll help a little with the tension--though more likely than not it'll just make me gain weight and not help this issue in the least since I DON'T HAVE OVERACTIVE BLADDER.

He then had to do some other kind of test and left and the nurse returned. I now had to partially disrobe. I started crying and had Ma leave since Psychologist had suggested this, I don't want her to see me. The nurse gave me this paper sheet thing and told me I could put it around myself and she left and I cried as I took my shoes and pants off, it was so humiliating. Then I didn't know how to put the paper around myself since it wasn't big enough; the nurse returned and clarified that it was just to cover me up when lying on the table and so I got up there, making sure to keep myself concealed the entire time, but of course she had to lift the sheet back up. She had said she would hold my hand if I wanted her to but I was so upset all I could do was clamp my hand over my eyes--if I can't see them, they can't see me--and cry. The urologist came back in and felt my belly or something, then I had to lift my legs and I guess he just looked at me since I felt nothing but it was just so awful. I remember the nurse saying, "It helps her to keep her eyes covered" while he did this. He was probably mentally complaining about what a baby I was crying during a routine check, then he left and that was it. I heard that this had something to do with checking to see if I had a "fallen bladder" or something but I was informed that my urine sample had come back normal, and everything "looked normal" when I was looked at, so everything seemed fine. I could've told them that. The nurse left to allow me to re-dress and I did so in tears. I remember she knocked and asked if it was okay for her to come back in, though I could hardly speak up enough to tell her so, of course it wasn't really okay, I just wanted to go curl up in a corner somewhere and cry to myself but of course I couldn't do that here. We got some forms for a followup ultrasound and appointment and left. I cried the rest of the night, I just felt I couldn't make myself small and invisible enough. If it hadn't been so late at night with my parents home I would have just drawn a hot bath and pulled the curtain and curled up in there to sob for a few hours.

On the way home, as I cried, Ma simply said, "I told you he'd want to look at your hoohah!" I don't understand why I can't just get things like a pat on the shoulder, a sympathetic word, even a hug although I detest being touched. Such things seem like too much to ask. I really feel alone in all this.

What bothered me even more than the "exam" was the urologist's brush-off attitude--just cut back the caffeine and we'll try you on some overactive bladder meds--just yet another delay in this stupid process. It hardly seems worth it. I'm so tired of not being taken seriously. I know I'm ignorant and I'm no doctor but I know my own frigging body, I could tell them there's nothing wrong with my urine and my bladder's in the right place and it's not overactive and this and that. But I just keep getting delayed with all this stupid useless stuff. I just want it all over.

I'm now to go in for some sort of ultrasound that requires my bladder to be full. The instructions are to drink 32oz. of water at least an hour before the test and to not void my bladder. 32oz.?? I found this unbelievable and so decided to try it at home first to see if I could manage. I drank the 32oz. of water (which is about 4 cups), nearly getting ill, then sat to wait. A half hour through, I felt very uncomfortable. By 45 minutes, it was so excruciating I could no longer take it. I was crying and couldn't stand or sit properly so had to go. It took two hours for all the fluid to come back out of me. That first trip to the toilet, I let out 3/4 cup. So I take it that about a half cup is as much as I can hold without getting truly uncomfortable since 3/4 cup was too much to bear in a public setting, especially if I'm going to be WAITING for this test while filling out more forms and then having to get up on a table to get the ultrasound done! I knew this already, though. When my bladder has about 1/3-1/2 cup in it, that's usually uncomfortable enough to wake me out of a sound sleep; I've had 3/4 cup in there only once that I recall and that too was during my sleep. Never mind letting this much fluid build up while I'm AWAKE. And waiting in a public spot for God knows how long, look how late the urologist ran! What if it takes me another hour just to get to the ultrasound?

So there's no way I can be expected to drink 32oz. and then wait over an hour. I decided I'll have to just drink it sooner before the test. I went online to look at the average bladder capacity because this just seems really unreasonable, telling somebody to drink FOUR CUPS and have a full bladder, how much do they expect it to hold? What I read appalled me. Other people seem easily capable of holding over a cup of fluid--heck, up to two cups and more, even. Nowhere in all the averages did I find mention of holding only a half cup or 3/4 cup. I can't understand or believe that other people, normal people, can hold so much yet I can't. I can't even imagine holding what's considered the average amount of fluid, seeing how much agony a mere 3/4 cup put me in--I couldn't even function by then, I was crying and could barely walk. This leads me to believe that either my bladder is incredibly weak, or smaller than average. If the former, then there's no way they're going to get their ultrasound done right since I can't manage a "full" bladder. If the latter, then how could this possibly get fixed? It's not like they can give me a new bladder, and I do not believe that "training" it, getting it used to holding more than I usually let it hold, would help. I've always been like this. I do not handle a full bladder well at all--I remember incidents from childhood where it was the same. Cripes, even a mere 1/4 cup makes me uncomfortable enough to go. A mere 1/3 cup wakes me out of sleep. This is normal for me. I have no idea how I'm going to handle this next ultrasound. I'm guessing that if they can't get a read, then they can't get a frigging read. Not my fault. Maybe if I manage to tell them how much pain it puts me in to have such a small amount of fluid in me, they'll realize it's not the problem they thought it was. Doubtful though. Just another stupid test that will tell them a bunch of nothing. Cut back on the caffeine, maybe that'll help.

Sorry for all this gross talk but there's no other way to put it.

Then the week after that comes a followup visit to the urologist to discuss the next step. Given that I get that far, what with this stupid ultrasound. If I feel up to it Tuesday (the day before the test), since I've started that time of the month (of course), I'll try the 32oz. test again and see if the results are the same. Out of curiosity I drank a cup of water straight today to see if it too would pass through me within a half hour as the 32oz. did but it didn't and that confuses me. Is there a certain minimum amount of fluid you must drink all at once for this to work? Because I kept track and almost all of that 32oz. came out of me within two hours. Strange. I was peeing, peeing, peeing, then all of a sudden, it stopped. Didn't even taper off. Another odd thing is that, aside from the lack of tapering off, the results I got from the 32oz. test were exactly the same as the symptoms I have when this is acting up. So my issues act just like I've consumed a large quantity of water a half hour or so previous to them starting to act up, when as you already know, I've done no such thing. The fluid coming out of me was clear and everything.

Sorry, yet again, for the grossness of all that.

I'm just so discouraged. Psychologist stressed yet again for me to feel free to call her and update her before my next appointment with her (which is the day after the ultrasound)--I didn't call her the last time, as I explained that I felt that everyone gets "Just one emergency call" and I had already used up two (one for the 19-hour incident, one for the time back in June when my family went to Mackinaw City without me), I don't want to be one of those annoying clingy people who call every time they have a "crisis," I felt that even if she'd asked me to call I should do so only if there's a REAL problem. She hoped for me to loosen this restriction somewhat and feel able to call her if I need to, and also just to update her since she said she really wants to know how it goes. I haven't called yet since even though I do have an update, I don't have any definite answer as for what's going on, and I still feel I should hold off any possible call for when I feel truly lousy and need a listening ear. The plain truth is I could use a few encouraging words from Psychologist--or anybody--just about every day. But I can hardly go calling people begging for such a thing every day, so I don't. I'm a...hoarder. For want of a better word. I believe in storing things up for when they're REALLY needed, and that includes, say, calls to a psychologist. I gave her the example of me having some wonderful chocolate truffles once in the past. I had only a few of them, around five or six, and they were so wonderfully delicious. I told myself not to eat them except when it was a really special occasion, then I would allow myself one. I ended up never finishing them at all because I just kept telling myself to wait for when I REALLY deserved them. It's the same thing here--she says I can call her, but I feel I shouldn't unless there's a REAL issue, when I feel REALLY lousy and need somebody to talk to--and seeing as I feel lousy just about all the time, I would be calling her all the time, so I just decide not to call or bother her at all. Sure, say that I'm crying and feeling abysmal right now (which I'm not, at least not at the moment), and want to talk to somebody--well, who's to say I won't feel even worse tomorrow? Better hold off on the call until then. Saving the truffles for a day when I can enjoy them more.

So that's basically the situation. At the moment, the chickadees are the main reason I even keep going on. I have to cling to some little thing and they've become it. What I read about them, huddled shivering in their holes, coming out in the morning needing food just to make it through another cold night, keeps me getting up day after day to put out the food and watch them come and eat. I give them something to make it through the day, they give me something to do the same. I don't really have much else to hold on to, at least, not much that seems of worth. I feel awful when I can't be here to say goodnight to them when they drift away in the evening, like I'm neglecting them. Another reason the urologist appointment was so lousy, being at after six in the afternoon, when the chickadees are finishing up for the day. It's lonely at night, when they're not here.

I told myself to give myself a break on my writing as I've been sick lately with another cold so have been spending most of my time lying in hot baths, reading, and watching the birds. My reading speed has picked up. Probably from not being online that much. I have to keep chasing away the bluejays and sometimes I just sit and stare off into space and doze off. Not much else to occupy my time. A combination of pseudoephedrine and diphenhydramine seems to have taken away my ability to remember my dreams, though I hope that returns sometime soon. Last night I remembered a fragment in which I had forgotten to go talk to Pepper's grave on the anniversary of her death, as in my dream it was now October 27th. I then wondered what had happened to the rest of the month.

That's pretty much how I feel every day, what happened to the rest of the year. Summer just abruptly ended and I seem to have missed it. The trees are starting to go bare and I have no idea how or when this happened. It's like everything just rushed past while I wasn't paying attention. My trip to the island back in June is like it never even happened. I look at my photos of it and it seems unreal, like I wasn't there. It's good to sit in the house, curled up with a book and watching the birds outside the window when it's cold outside, but how did it get so cold so fast? What happened to the green and the warm and me walking around and around the house for my exercise while I sweated and cicadas buzzed and the chipmunks raided the feeder? I never even noticed when the cricket song faded away and I haven't seen a chipmunk in ages...

I just hope winter flies by as quickly as the summer seemed to. It seems like the trees just finally got green and then I missed the rest of it.

Anyway. The pseudoephedrine and diphenhydramine are kicking in so I'd best go now. Not proofed, tar.