Oh you thought this would be another “Christmas is so awesome and look how cute my kid is and look at his presents and smiles and rainbows” post. You should know better by now.
We’re talking about my vagina again. Ok not actually my vagina, but more like it’s neighbors pee hole and pee pipe.
For those of you unaware (which is like everyone because who really cares) I have something called Interstitial Cystitis. Of course I do. It essentially means that you have ulcers in your bladder that get real angry every now and then if you piss them off. And then you pee fire until it’s un-angry. And Christmas day it was PISSED (pun).
Let’s rewind to circa 2001, location: Penn State, lifestyle: sorority. If I wasn’t at the gym trying to figure how to get my discman to not skip on the treadmill, I was at the campus doctor.
Me: I know it’s like 9th time in 2 weeks, but my pee hole is on fire again.
Doc: I JUST gave you a dose of antibiotics for your urinary tract infection
Me: I know, they aren’t working.
Doc: (side eye…the type of side eye reserved only for strippers and sorority sluts) Maybe you should give it a rest with your boyfriend.
Me: I DON’T HAVE A BOYFRIEND.
Doc: (million billion side eye)
Me: No, I mean, I’m not having sex. They are just from nothing.
Doc: Sure they are. Here’s another antibiotic. (vigorously washes his hands after I leave)
Me: Ultimate sads.
After a doctor offered to give me a hysterectomy and 50 million more side eyes, they found out that I never did have any urinary tract infections, I had Interstitial Cystitis. It feels like a UTI, it looks like a UTI, it smells like a UTI (don’t act like you don’t know) but it’s NOT. It’s just the ulcers in your bladder getting all pissy (pun) at you. And you just have to like, wait it out.
My IC flares were in remission for FIVE years. That’s like pee hole trophy worthy. That is until Christmas Day 2011 when I peed out chinese throwing stars and I knew right away. It came back.
I tried to remember my old routine: hot water and baking soda on the pee hole, hot rice pack on the pee hole, some magic pee hole creme that lost the cap so I just squeeze out half the tube in the trash hoping that was cap-like…on the pee hole. And a prayer.
Now I had to sit in the car for 4 hours on a hot pee hole.
Today I drew a line in the pee and called the super special IC doctor (regular doctors still give you side eye about IC). It was *super* easy to get a doctor on the phone the day after Christmas. And by super easy I mean it was NOT EASY AT ALL.
Finally I got the meds. All they do is numb the stuff. It’s no cure. But you pee orange and that’s delightful. The other med turns your pee purple. It’s really just a color preference.
So here I am, dreaming of an orange Christmas. JUST like the ones I used to know.
Oh yeah, Glovedhistoysanditwasmagicalandblahblahblah.
I’ll be doing a WANA thank you post shortly. My pee hole just needed to be heard. I really have no say in any of this.
If any of you have IC and can offer any super sassy remedies, I’m all ears/vagina holes.
And if all of this wasn’t exactly the Christmas spirit you were looking for. NEITHER WAS I. But because I like you, rest your eyes here and tell me what a damn sap I am now.