I was pissing blood.
No, that's not entirely accurate...I was EXPLODING blood!
I was lying on the couch reading David Pogue's Apple book, minding my own business, when I realized I finally had to get up to pee. The urgency has disappeared since Skip prescribed the cocktail, of Avodart and Flomax. Being old and having an enlarged prostate is no picnic. They tell you to start taking medication when you can no longer sit through a movie. Then again, men never admit they've got a problem, at least not to each other. They say they're fine, while being no longer able to hear their family...they don't need no stinkin' hearing aids!
So I stride in front of the commode...and nothing comes out.
This is kind of weird, I mean the drugs can give you a delayed start, but I feel like I have to go and nothing is coming out.
Okay...
And then it's like someone ignited a missile, blast-off is imminent. I feel the pressure in my penis and then...FIREWORKS! Not only in the bowl, but all over the toilet, all over the rim, all over the floor.
And it's very red and very bloody.
So I methodically start to clean the premises, and that's when I notice a clot. I haven't seen a clot like this since I had surgery to remove a kidney stone twenty five years ago. What exactly is going on?
I've had a bunch of kidney stones. But they're preceded by ungodly flank pain. I was feeling nothing, I got no advance warning sign. Was this a result of masturbation? Mama told me not to come...
And then there's another major event, just after I've cleaned up the environment.
And then I hang my dick around waiting for more and when it's finally all said and done I go back to the couch and consult Dr. Google.
I'm not an alarmist. I'm not looking to find out I'm dying of cancer. I know how to read between the lines. Sure, I look at the AI result, but also the Mayo and Cleveland clinics and others and they all said...
No big deal. If I wasn't in pain, had no burning sensation, which I did not possess.
Okay...
Maybe it was a passing thing.
But NO!
An hour later I have the same experience. But with anticipation, I'm better at directing the spurt. And the hours keep passing and it keeps happening and...
I ain't gonna go to the emergency room, Google didn't tell me to do so.
Then again, no one lives forever, and when they say there will be blood, they didn't expect this much!
Finally, I decide to try and sleep. I can't, and I get up to pee a couple of times and still have blood, but I figure I'm gonna be okay.
But THEN!
All of a sudden I have this incredible pain in my legs. In the muscles. And I don't want to get up and put on Traumeel S, I'm in twilight and I'm too cold for that.
But then the pain becomes too much. I get up and put on the miracle anti-inflammatory, and it WORKS! Voila!
Well, then I start to shiver. And it ain't that cold. But I am freezing. Once again, I don't want to get up, leave the covers behind, find clothing, but I do!
I put on sweatpants, and not only a shirt but a fleece over it. And just as I'm about to get back into bed, I realized I'd better don socks too.
But I'm still cold, and good luck falling asleep, I end up looking at my phone, keeping it right by me in the bed, to help me in my moment of need.
And then, after a couple of hours of near sleep, I get up to pee...
AND IT'S CLEAR! The crisis is history! And I'm so damn hot, I remove all my clothing, everything is groovy.
The calamity is behind me.
And I don't feel a hundred percent during the day yesterday, but I didn't get that much sleep.
But the crisis is behind me.
But Felice is bugging me to go to the ER... Why? Dr. Google said it was unnecessary, and the crisis is in the rearview mirror, I'm peeing regular urine...
So she calms down. Actually, she's a couple of thousand miles away, but that's another story.
So now it's last night, the next night. And I'm in the exact same position, lying on the couch reading the Pogue book. And I get the urge to pee at the identical time, 9 PM, so I go to the bathroom and once again...
Nothing comes out, and then...It's like I'm fighting a war, spraying bullets at the enemy. It's endless.
And let me tell you, this ain't no pink urine, this is crimson red, this is the real thing, blood.
Okay, now this is too much. This was unexpected.
So I go back to Dr. Google and parsing the information, I realize I should go to the emergency room.
Now I've got to tell you, growing up in my house it was illegal to be ill. Couldn't happen. You had to go to school unless your symptoms were palpable and excessive. As for going to the doctor...WE DON'T NEED NO STINKIN' DOCTOR!
Yup, that was my mother's philosophy. And it bit her in the ass in the end. She had a visible infection, but she kept telling everybody surrounding here she was just fine. But ultimately she went into the hospital and never came out. It was treatable, if she'd been on it weeks before, when it first manifested itself, but she figured she could will it away, that bacteria was no match for Muggs Lefsetz. Hell, she truly thought that if she kept dragging my dad around, remained upbeat, stayed in denial, he wouldn't die of cancer, but he did!
So I've got a long history of not going to the doctor until it's too late. Lost a body part in the process. I've improved, but...
Who the hell wants to go to the ER? At ten o'clock at night?
But I've got no idea what is going on, so... I take a shower, get dressed, go over there, and I'm told they're too busy, to wait on the couch.
But then the nurse comes out and says he doesn't like the way I look, and he's going to give me a room right away.
Now THAT'S good!
And they hook me up with the blood pressure monitor and the oxygen sensor. And they take blood and...
They need a urine sample.
REALLY? You want a blood sample?
And I'll be honest, I'm afraid I'm going to pee and my urine will be clear. It's like taking your car to the repair shop, the problem doesn't manifest itself when you're there.
So at first the new nurse wants me to pee in bed. And gives me one of those giant plastic bottles, if you've been in the hospital you know what I'm talking about.
But then she thinks better of that. Says I should go to the bathroom and use one of the little cups in there.
OH NO! I need the big bottle, she's got no idea what she's up against here. I need room, for the volume I'm going to emit.
So, I go to the bathroom, I've got my dick in the bottle...and nothing comes out.
And then, the gunpowder ignites and a clot comes flying out and the bottle starts filling up... It's a deep red, almost brown. THERE! You think I was lying?
Of course they didn't think that. But I've got my mother's voice in the back of my head, that I don't deserve medical treatment.
So I lie there, but then the doctor comes in. Discusses the possibilities. But first, he wants to take some pictures.
So not long thereafter, by ER standards, a guy comes in alone, he's going to drive me to the theatre. This is the highlight of being in the hospital, the trip through the halls on the bed. Usually there are two people to get you started, to align and get the bed rolling properly, but this guy was doing it all by himself.
Ultimately we got to the CT room. Yup, they gave me the contrast, you know, the one that makes you feel hot. They took a slew of pictures, then the tech wheeled me back to my room and said the doctor would be with me in thirty or forty minutes.
Well, almost two hours later...
He's got no answers. Could be a kidney stone, but if it was, he'd see it traveling down from the kidney, and nothing was there. And I didn't have pain. But I know my kidneys are riddled with stones... You get this old and you know your complete medical history. Like the guy starts spewing stats, saying he's got nothing to compare them to, my hemoglobin and creatinine, but I've got those numbers stored in my brain, I don't even have to look them up.
Now, of course it could be bladder cancer. The wall of my uterus was a bit thick. And it's hard to diagnose, so therefore he wants me to have it checked out and... Anything can happen. I know a couple of people who've had bladder cancer.
And he can dial the urologist on call and get an opinion, but it might take a while for the doctor to get back to him, and it's doubtful the physician will render a definitive opinion over the line so...
I can be transferred to another hospital where there's a urologist in the building...
You know modern medicine, unless you're literally dying, they won't give you a definitive opinion. They give you the facts and you have to decide. So, in my case, I ask a plethora of questions, trying to reveal nuance, and then I get the guy to admit that really, I don't need to have a camera stuck up my penis immediately. But there is the issue, what if I can't pee?
That's what he's most worried about. Because if you can't pee, you need a catheter.
And that's when I realize he's going to discharge me, send me home while I'm still spewing blood. REALLY?
But he says that my counts are pretty good, and that you've got a lot of blood in your body. And if I'm not dizzy, which I am not... He says if I get dizzy and pass out to come back. REALLY? I mean I could pass out and DIE! But he says if I pass out, I will wake up, so...
What exactly is going on here?
Well, it could be an infection, so he's going to prescribe an antibiotic. And I ask him which one and first he says Keflex, which I've had before, and I'm thinking for a minute that my opinion seems to matter, since I know a little he thinks I have expertise, and then he asks me if I want the first dose intravenously right now. OF COURSE! That's what he thought I'd say. I mean after all, I'm THERE!
And the nurse starts preparing the injection and then I think about the shivering...so I have her call the doctor back and I ask him, wouldn't this be evidence of an infection?
But he won't go on record.
As for the drug? It's not Keflex, it's something completely different, and the pills I'm going to retrieve the following day, which is now today, will be something yet again and...
Now I'm gonna go home?
And then he emphasizes, if I can't pee...
So they give me a printout, I go to the bathroom and leave my mark once again, the red devil, and then I walk out of the place.
And when I get home, my pee is clear. No trace of blood at all.
Huh.
And it's been clear now ever since, but I was just lying on said couch reading the Pogue book and I must say, I was afraid to go to the bathroom. Then again, it's not nine o'clock yet!
So what have we learned...
My initial instincts were right, to ride the tiger, to let it all play out, or hang out.
Then again, you never really know. I mean when you get old enough, the thought creeps into your brain that this could be the END! Or the beginning of the end.
I'm thinking it was an infection. I'll get the scope re bladder cancer, but the odds of that being the case are very low, even the doc said so...
But it's all kind of mysterious.
So I live another day. Just hoping I'm not going to explode again.
I still don't have a definitive answer, then again, your body tells you if you need treatment. But oftentimes when it gets to that point, it's too late.
So, I just don't know.
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