The beginning

It all started a year ago. September 24^th to be exact. A date I would have forgotten had it not been for my wonderfully organized wife, Erin, who had the foresight to write down the date so that we might know when it all started in the future. I woke up in the morning and went to the bathroom to relieve myself. I stood over the toilet bowl and waited. And waited. And waited. I thought, “This is strange.” After several more moments I was finally able to produce a slow, weak stream of urine. I finished up and left the bathroom making sure to make a mental note of what had just happened. Throughout that day, urinating did not become any easier. In fact, it became more and more difficult to produce any urine at all. The next day was just as bad and it was that evening when Erin and I had a chance to go out to dinner without the kids that I informed her that I hadn’t been able to pee for more than 24 hours. I was starting to get genuinely concerned and we agreed that I would call my doctor the next day. I got in to see my doctor a couple of days later and he gave me a general examination. He examined me top to bottom and then asked me to go pee in a cup. I thought to myself that if I could pee in a cup, I wouldn’t be in your office today. But nonetheless, I went to the doctor’s bathroom and after 20 minutes I was able to produce enough of a sample for them to use. I was then referred to see a urologist and made the necessary arrangements to meet him the following week. During this time, my situation became more and more painful as my bladder was always full of urine and I was unable to fully relieve myself. When I could go to the bathroom, it was in little amounts and with great effort. It was almost as if my bladder had reached it’s maximum volume and I was just able to siphon off enough urine to give myself a little relief. I was never able to empty it completely. My first meeting with my urologist came and he also gave me an examination. His was a bit more invasive this time as he did all the poking and prodding necessary (too much poking for my comfort) and afterwards came to no real diagnosis. He gave me a prescription for a medication to treat an overactive prostate and planned on seeing me again in a week’s time. Well the medication did nothing for my symptoms and by this time my days were becoming increasingly unbearable. I would be in constant pain and discomfort as I had the urge to go pee all the time. Nights were worse. I would fall asleep for an hour and then wake up in terrible pain. I would get up and pace until the pain subsided, try and go to the bathroom, and then hopefully an hour later I would be able to doze off for another hour of sleep before I was awakened by another round of pain and pacing. That was how my nights were - an hour of sleep, an hour of pacing, an hour of sleep, and so on. I finally had my next appointment with my urologist and it was during this appointment that I had my first ever (and hopefully last ever) cystoscopy. If you are not familiar with what a cystoscopy is, you may want to take a break from reading at this time and look it up on wikipedia. I would describe the procedure to you myself, but fear I would mix up the technical jargon with other choice descriptive words that may be too blue for some readers. While my urologist performed the cystoscopy, he was able to examine my urethra, prostate, bladder, and abdomen wall. He said everything looked fine and nothing raised a red flag. I told him when he was done that I had to use the bathroom and he told me that my bladder had looked incredibly full and left the room for me to do so. Of course I wasn’t able to go. My urologist came back in the room and asked if I had any success and I told him I hadn’t. This troubled him, because he had seen firsthand how full my bladder was. He ordered an ultrasound to try and ascertain the fullness of my bladder. Afterwards we agreed that it was very full. And yet, even after trying again, I was unable to relieve myself. This is when he left the room and returned with the bane of my life for the next 12 months. The catheter. He told me what it was and what to do with it. I felt like telling him to stop joking around but before I could, he left me in the room with his nurse as my assistant and told me to give it a go. Now for a catheter to be successful, it is of utmost importance that you use copious amounts of lubrication. I know what you are thinking. “Do I really want to put all that lubricating gunk up my you-know-what?” Believe me. You do. My first attempt was not lubricated near enough and after pushing halfway up I met some resistance and I had a bit more pain than I wanted to tolerate, so I pulled it back out. “You okay?” asked the nurse. NO! NO! I’m not okay!! I’m a healthy 32 year old man! I should not be pushing this 16 inch tube up my penis! I didn’t say that of course. I just smiled and gave it another go. This time I had plenty of lubrication and the tube found it’s way up and in with greater ease. Another important point to make is that right before the catheter reaches your bladder, it must push through your abdominal sphincter first. When I pushed the catheter up to that sphincter, I met such a resistance that I thought something was wrong. I asked the nurse and she just said I needed to push harder. I tried. Too painful. I tried again. Too painful. By now I had had enough and wanted no more of this catheter. Without thinking I pulled the catheter straight out, burning as it came. My nurse went to get my doctor and he returned a short while later. He asked what was wrong and I told him. I couldn’t get the catheter all the way in. He understood my frustration and asked me to try it again, but this time when the catheter gets to my sphincter, try and relax my sphincter as if I am trying to urinate. He said this might loosen my sphincter enough to help push the catheter through. So here I was with my doctor and nurse watching, trying to get the catheter in place for the third time. Remembering his advice, I tried loosening my sphincter as best I could, and lo and behold, it worked! Immediately urine started flowing out the end of the tube and into a receptacle that my urologist placed underneath. Now as much as I hate catheters, the word catheter, and everything that is catheter, I have to admit, I have never experienced such bliss and euphoria as that moment when the catheter was in place and the urine began to flow. I had such great relief that I almost shed tears of joy. For the first time in nearly three weeks, I had voided my bladder entirely. In the end, the receptacle held approximately 1.1 liters of urine. My urologist said that was a lot. I believed him.