Tag Archives: Nurse

My weak bladder was filled with gas on purpose

A list of options for urinary incontinence

After three kids, and old age creeping up on me, my bladder has become, let us say weaker. It doesn’t hold as much as it used to, or if it does, then trouble ensues. Most women can relate to this, you go to get up and oh, surprise, surprise, we have leakage, or one of your young adult children scares the bejeebers out of you, and oh surprise, surprise more leakage, only this time you have to run upstairs for a change of clothes. Damn kids making you laugh.

Now I realize most men don’t want to hear about their wives/girlfriends/partners having a bladder problem. Well guys, sorry in this case, I blame 50% of the problem on you. Why? You got us pregnant, and no matter how many of those darn Keagle exercises I did, the bladder still would not cooperate.

So a couple of weeks ago, I went to see a Doctor that specializes in Urinary Incontinence, god how freaking embarrassing is that? By the sound of it, I should be wearing a diaper, you know those ones that are now advertised on television, like your period pads, like it’s no big deal that you need to wear a diaper at age 54! Just for the record, I do not wear a diaper! Okay, back to my doctor visit, she was, alright is a lovely woman (with an odd desire to help women who pee themselves). First there is the obligatory medical history with the nurse, meaning did I bring along my list of medication, because I can never remember the names of the pills I take every morning & night (for the last god knows how many years) so I can have a maybe less painful day. Oh “you must be constipated with those meds” she says, gee thanks for the reminder that I can’t poo on a regular basis, but heck I can pee if you make me laugh.

With the history completed, the nurse explains that I am going to go behind that curtain over there, remove my lower half of clothing, but you may keep your socks on, because peeing has nothing to do with your feet, unless of course you dribble down your leg, and voila you have now peed on your feet. Then lay down on the bed, put your feet in the stirrups, like you are riding that imaginary horse with your true love…that might be another story. Then the doctor will come in the room, and the fun will be begin!

So there I am with my feet in the stirrups, riding the imaginary horse when the doctor bursts that bubble and tells me she is going to fill my bladder up with gas, and no matter how much I want to pee, I have to hold in the gas because it isn’t pee, while she watches the monitor (yeah there is a camera on the tube she inserted into my urinary tract, up into my bladder which fucking hurts but hey only for a minute).

Then she starts to fill my bladder with gas. At first no big deal, I can handle this, I feel like I want to pee, but it’s not pee as I try to remember. Then oh my fucking god!!! The pain!!! I am holding the nurse’s hand, which I am pretty sure is near bone breakage. I’m crying, and swearing while the nurse is telling me to breathe like I’m having a baby. Well let me tell you ladies, this is nowhere near like you are having a baby, why? Because you don’t get the baby.

What seems like an eternity (but in actuality is only a few minutes), the doctor gets the images she wants, and the gas in my bladder, which I was 100% positive was going to be sent flying into the stars is released. I am saved, I know longer want to harm the doctor, but now I want water, I’m dehydrated. Go figure.

She has me grab the sheet, come on over here, and we will have a chat, for some odd reason I can’t take a few minutes to get dressed. First she says I have stress urinary incontinence, and a week bladder neck. Okay, I’m pretty sure I knew that. My options. This is where I laugh (no peeing though). Keagle exercises (honestly do they work, no, even my own family doctor agreed with that, and he’s not female). Next option: medication, but I’m already on quite a bit, they cost a lot, and are not covered by OHIP (our government plan). Thirdly, a Pessary Device can be inserted into the bladder neck, but it apparently only has a 50% success rate, and requires changing every few months, it can fall out, and costs $75 each time. Lastly surgery – a TVT which is a tension free mesh device is sewn into the bladder neck. This has a 90% success rate and a 1% chance of erosion, it is an outpatient surgery procedure with a two week recovery.

This is a lot to take in, I tell her I want to chat with my husband, when really I just want to get dressed because now I’m cold. I get home, and tell hubby all about my bladder being filled up with gas. Apparently though my bladder leakage problem is not something he really wants to hear about? Fine, but he reluctantly listens, where it takes him a minute to say, go for the surgery, end the peeing.

I most likely will go have the surgery done, but I will have to wait till the young man moves back home for the summer. This way there is someone else to help around the house when hubby is at work. (Oh I did share this information with the young man, but like his dad, he really didn’t want to hear about my peeing).

Toe surgery and a condom

Toe is wrapped after surgery

Toe is wrapped after surgery

This past Friday, I had surgery on my big toe to remove two ingrown nails. Gross, right? I will not argue with that description at all. The surgery itself is not all that painful, except for the two initial needles to freeze the toe. That hurts. Basically the surgery entails cutting a good portion of both sides of the nail. After the nail is trimmed the doctor puts quite a bit of gauze in the sides of the nail to stem the bleeding. The toe is wrapped and I am sent home with instructions not to do any walking for the next couple of days.

The next day I saw the nurse who would change the bandages. This is extremely painful! As instructed I took some codeine a half hour before seeing her. My husband being a very good sport, and having a strong stomach, attended the appointment with me. The initial bandages came off with no problems at all, and then it was time to remove the gauze the doctor had inserted in the nail bed. To say I screamed, swore loudly, and cried is an understatement. At one point, I had to ask the nurse to stop, the pain was just too much. She was wonderful with her attempts to be gentle (impossible), and the humorous distractions made by all. Eventually all the gauze was removed and my toe was again covered in bandages. (Thankfully there was only a tad of gauze put back in the nail bed).

One of the other instructions the doctor had given me, was not to get the nail wet for a few days. This would pose some difficulty when showering, until my husband spoke up, and suggested my toe wear a condom.  The nurse thought it was a fabulous idea, the condom is sterile, and it would just roll over the toe. Me, well, awkward. Desperate for a shower though, I bit the bullet, dug out the package of unused condoms, and proceeded to cover up my toe.

My toe wearing a condom.

My toe wearing a condom.

After my shower, I unwrapped my toe from the condom (oh that brought back memories, not from unwrapping toes though, lol), to find that my husband was correct, the bandages on my toe were dry. Damn, now I had to tell him he was right. 😉

The last of my children is no longer a teenager

Twenty years ago today I went into the hospital to have my pregnancy induced for the birth of my third and final child. It took twelve hours for the induction to put me into labour and have the little guy start to make his way out of me. This meant for twelve hours I would not only have the enjoyment of labour pains, but vomiting, the medicine the doctor gives you to induce labour makes me quite ill, as it did for my two previous inductions. I had an epidural so the labour pains were quite manageable but when it comes time to push, they stop the epidural and you feel the extreme pain of labour. Okay for some woman, labour is as easy as eating a piece of cake but for me, well lets be honest it is just plain hell. For my first child, the entire process took twenty-four hours, for the second twelve hours, and another twelve for the final bundle of joy kid.

Finally, when he was ready to come down the birth canal I had to push. Well try pushing after vomiting off and on for twelve hours, I was tired and to be honest I suck at pushing. Luckily the vomiting had not stopped for me, so every time I puked, I was also pushing. Who knew you used the same muscles to wretch food from your stomach and to push a baby out of your uterus? Eventually my son’s head entered the world and the doctor asked me if I wanted to feel it. Well let me tell you right now, if the doctor asks you this question, don’t do it! I touched his head, and yelled “YUCK”. The doctor being quite surprised at my response, laughed and said it wasn’t “YUCK”, it was “beautiful”. Yeah, well he’s crazy. The head is slimy and gooey. I couldn’t see the head, being that I was still vomiting and apparently pushing, so beautiful, sure I guess.

Eventually our son came out and I was given the rest of the epidural medicine to try to give me some pain relief (my third pregnancy was my last because I have back problems and it was just to hard on me). I was cleaned up, and put in a wheelchair so my husband could bring our daughters in to see their new brother. After the doctor left, my husband took our daughters home, the nurses then left, and said they would be back in a few minutes to take me to my room. Well they lied, they forgot about me. So there I am sitting in a wheelchair, I can’t feel anything from the waist down due to the epidural, and I am holding my son, which is the precise time he found his lungs. So for a good thirty minutes I’m left holding a screaming child and I can’t move, I don’t have the strength to wheel the wheelchair with one hand, so I do what every woman does after twelve gruelling hours of labour, I cry. The boy is screaming and I am crying. Eventually a nurse finally returned, apologized profusely and took me to my room, while I was still holding the screaming baby.

Happy birthday son, your mom loves you.

The young man and his stuffed moose.

The young man and his stuffed moose.