Instead of having a wonderful date night with my hubby Friday, I switched from sitting in the bath to sitting on the toilet with stinging pain and saying, “I’m never having sex again.”
I do everything–everything!–that people and doctors say to prevent UTIs, but they just keep coming like some obnoxious friend who can’t take a hint.
And yeah, the UTI totally sucks–it burns, I can’t get comfortable for hours, I constantly feel like I’m going to pee my pants–but the medication is terrible. I am grateful for even having medication on hand (my doctor prescribed me a bunch of “just-in-case” pills when I went to Germany last fall), but the medication makes me puke!
This time Spencer bought me a huge jug of cranberry juice. I took the pill and when he came back I chugged that stuff down. Two hours later, I’m sitting on our green couch closing my eyes, taking deep breaths, and holding my stomach. “I’m going to dieeeeeee,” I whined.
And then it hit. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a mixing bowl, ran to the toilet (because, like already said, I had to pee every second), and had a fun pee-in-toilet-puke-in-bowl activity. I filled that mixing bowl up super fast with cranberry juice and a hint of Anne’s stomach remains.
“SPENCER!” puke puke. “I NEED ANOTHER BOWL!”
(I’m such a hot wife.)
He comes running in with a bowl and says “I’ll switch you bowls,” and “you just puked all of that up?” then “I’ll get you some listorine to get rid of that nastiness in your throat.”
“No, I’m really okay,” I say, gagging. “It tastes just like cranberry juice.”
He bursts out laughing and I try to give a purple lipped-grin back, but then I puke again and he leaves.
OTHER UTI stories:
I called in sick at Zupas for a day because I got a major bad UTI. The next day it was pretty much okay, but I still had to take the meds, so I went to work. I got in and started making salads for people. And then it hit me. I told someone to take over salads and I ran as fast as I could to the bathroom. I made it to the bathroom, but not the toilet. All over. My puke! Like a freaking fire hose!
I gagged a little in the toilet and then cleaned my mouth off to grab a mop. My manager, Alicia, who had just heard I was sick, ran up to me and said, “Are you okay?” I told her my antiobiotics had made me nauseous. She told me to go home, but I said I needed a mop to clean up the terror bathroom. I went into the back and there was no mop. I went back to the bathroom and MY CO-WORKER WAS CLEANING IT UP. I said, “David, no no, please let me do that.” And he said, “Wait you puked?” And I said, “yeah…” and he said “No, I’m cleaning it.” …..So I just stood there watching my co-worker clean up my puke and then I left.
The second puke story wasn’t as horrifying. But it was when we didn’t own a car and it was the middle of the night and it was soooo bad. So I called my parents crying and said, “Can one of you take me to get some meds?” so my (sweet, sweet) dad drove to get me and when he got there, I said, “OH SHOOT!”and ran to the bathroom and puked. And then I said, “Ohhhhh, that’s disgusting” and both Spencer and my dad burst out laughing in the living room.
And more to that story, the doctor didn’t know if my dad and I were married or not, so he kept saying all of these awkward, really vague things so I said straight up, “He’s my dad” and he was like, “Well of course he’s your dad.” Pff.
Third story is just a tiny one. Another no-car moment. Spencer wasn’t home and it was the middle of winter. Thankfully the pharmacy isn’t too far away from our house. But I walked in knee-length snow with a stinging down-under to get to the pharmacy. And then I had to walk back. That sucked.
Do you have any awful puke moments? UTI moments? Sick moments?