Tuesday, September 7, 2010


I knew right before I woke up this morning I had a urinary tract infection.  I had a choice of three doctors to call and finally decided on Dr. Douche.  And boy, did he ever prove his nickname again.  Because I used to be a chronic sufferer, I always ask if the doctor can just call in the antibiotic without an office visit.  That used to work with Dr. Liz but Dr. Douche wanted me to do the whole nine yards, urine sample, the little talk with the doctor.

As I sat in the exam room thinking about how much time I was wasting, I decided to try and curb my obvious disdain for this guy and play the clueless ingenue.  But after he made his first statement, I couldn't help myself.  His opening line was, "You haven't been a patient of mine for very long?"  "Well, yes, I think it's been about 2 1/2 years."  "That's not very long," he said.  He couldn't care less that I am a UTI veteran and know virtually everything about treating it and avoiding it.  He then went into the standard medical monologue about what a woman can do to ease the pain or try to avoid this situation; cranberry pills, and Vitamin C.  To my surprise he neglected to mention urinating right before and after sex (which works for me, by the way), or avoiding alcohol, soft drinks, coffee, any citrus drink which I find can irritate my bladder more.  He talked me out of the standard sulfur-based drugs I've taken in the past and prescribed Macrobid.  Whatever.

And what took the cake was the following statement, "And no sex for five days.  You can get cute and creative but I don't want a penis bouncing up against that urethra."

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