I have my first-ever urinary tract infection.
The sheer fact that I had never had one before amazed my doc. He said I must have really good hygiene and always wipe front to back.*
This, like pretty much every other illness, virus, disease, infection or complication short of Alzheimer’s, is more likely to occur in pregnancy. It has something to do with the extra glucose, protein and angst in your urine. I would have thought it had more to do with the fact that I pee three or four times a night, in the dark, mostly in the toilet, and would be hard-pressed to swear that I always apply due diligence to the toilet paper.
A urinalysis (my second one today!) and urine culture are being checked for the level of infection and type of infection. Results are due eventually – although the doc was a complete doll, I stopped listening when he said “UTI” and “antibiotics will make it better.” The tests are to rule out any infection in my kidneys: Basically, because I’ve never had one before, there is a concern that I let it go too long (unlikely – I whine early and often) and pregnancy and kidney infection mix about as well as pregnancy and dehydration. It’s only a matter of time until we find out if both are stocked at Kirby’s Corner Store.
If there is infection in the kidneys, I have to have IV meds and – gasp! – a couple hours in the hospital for bloodwork (kind of like a glucose tolerance test except for infections).
It’s time to open the betting pool back up again. Their are excellent odds on which malady will complete the Kirby pregnancy malady trifecta.**
In other news, I am having a hard time remembering which pills I am supposed to take when, since I’m on such boatloads of them now. And no, I’m not too cranky about the UTI. I stopped getting cranky after the broken rib. At this point, I can’t help but find it comic how vastly different my life is in comparison to what I thought pregnancy would be.
And just to warrant use of the poop tag: My rectum appears to have formed a “solidarity” movement with my bladder. Meaning, there is no movement to speak of. There is a large link or two missing from my circle of digestion. If something doesn’t break up by bedtime, I may take extreme measures (read: enema). There is some concern that I would explode otherwise.
* I want that on a first-place blue ribbon: “Always wipes vajayjay properly.” I would wear it to shul next to my “Ask me about my non-Orthodox conversion” button.
**Okay, God forbid, but … Smart money says high-blood pressure from the salt in the mashed potatoes I now frequently shovel down my gullet. Also rans include gestational diabetes from the gross amounts of sugar in the sweet tea I currently live for. Dark horses include choriocarcinoma and Parkinson’s.