I have many tales of the three days we have been on vacation – and most are full of smiles for miles. But, first, a tale of woe.
Yesterday afternoon, in the last leg of our trip (about 5 hours left before we hit Delta, UT), I got a sudden urgency to pee. I asked my ever-accomodating, ever-patient husband to please pull over at the nearest rest stop. We were driving across Wyoming, so, uh, not a lot of rest stops. But we were upon one rather quickly. Thank goodness.
I did my business, got back in the car, resumed my knitting… and !!!!!!!! F****! S****! Bloody F***ing Bollocks P****. I had to pee AGAIN despite going 15 seconds ago. I had a urinary tract infection. NOOOOOOOOOOO!! The horror, the dismay, the need to cry and scream and rail against the universe? Overwhelming.
I just – grrrrr. I am not particulary prone to UTIs, but road trips seem to get me. I don’t drink enough water and then don’t “go” enough. But you try to “go” enough when travelling across Nebraska and Wyoming!
I apologized to my husband one billion times, explaining now that we are going to have to stop at every rest stop between here and Utah, thus extending our drive time A LOT. He was patient, he was kind, he started looking for a drug store. About 40 minutes later after some driving around a town we found an old-timey drugstore, with most of the staff outside smoking.
I ran in and started screaming CRANBERRY PILLS! The Slowest Woman In The World directed me to them. I bought that and a UTI analgesic. Yay!!! I have only taken a UTI analgesic twice in my life, but both times I think about the clinical trials for that product. “We will give you this drug which will stop you feeling like you have to pee all the time and that your bladder is trying to crawl out of your body, but we must warn you that you will probably fart everytime you hear the word “orange” for the rest of your life? Are you willing to accept that risk?” YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! OH GAWD YES!!
I felt MUCH better for the rest of the drive, which is good because the last 2 hours of the trip didn’t have ANY rest stops. “How was the trip kids?” “Fine, except we had to avert our eyes while our stepmom peed on the side of the road.”
This morning I had the crippling realization that I had to get antibiotics. Cranberry pills and that analgesic don’t cut it for long. Grrrr. So I called my physician – she was not going to call in an Rx…grrr. So I made the 0.5 mile trek (Bill has the car today) to the Delta, UT emergency room … which is literally a room. Then the party really started:
1. Rang the doorbell for the emergency room. Waited 15 minutes while ringing the bell periodically.
2. Wandered around the tiny hospital looking for anybody. I literally could have stolen everything from the gift shop, some X-ray equipment, and several hundred bed pans and never been seen. Finally I found a nurse who was none-too-happy to have someone to deal with.
3. Nurse led me to the septugenarian (let’s call her Myrtle) who would admit me. Myrtle sat down with a sigh and said “Now, why isn’t the computer on? I don’t know what to do if the computer isn’t on.” Simultaneous tears of laughter and terror filled my eyes. And I really have to pee.
4. Myrtle shooed away my offer of help turning on the computer and found another golden girl to turn on the computer.
5. 45 minutes (not an exaggeration) of going through three screens to get admitted. The nurse checked in to see if I was admitted 30 minutes in and chided Myrtle for not being done yet. Then Myrtle alternated between clicking the wrong button or field on the screen and telling me what a bitch the nurse is. I finally was admitted… it took her all that time to capture this much information – again, not an exaggeration:
Social Security Number
And she couldn’t see any of the values on my cards and so I sat there reading them slowly to her. And she didn’t photocopy any of my cards. In retrospect I should have just given a string of sixes for every answer. “That’s right, my number is 666-666-6666. Those are how numbers are in Sixville, Alaska. My neighbor’s is 555-555-5555.”
6. Saw the nurse. She was curt but quick and had to page a doctor to come in who was 20 minutes away. What does this place do if there is a real emergency??
7. Peed in a cup. When I asked where I could wash my hands the nurse pointed at a sink and reported that it wasn’t currently draining. So I washed my hands hovering over a sink full of water that medical professionals had used to was their hands for the last few days.
8. Read and tried to think about not having to pee while waiting for the doctor
9. Doctor came in. Didn’t wait for lab results, just asked me about my symptoms and gave me a prescription. He was by far the most charming doctor ever. Just how you imagine small town doctors – kind, folksy, patient. He talked about the humidity in Missouri and how they treated someone who got hurt by a dynamite explosion last week and subsequently made a joke about Alfred Nobel. Just charming. (Although I did think about that poor guy with dynamite wounds. “Looks like that hand is about to come off. The doctor will be here in 20 minutes.”)
10. Walked to pharmacy. WOW! Small towns definitely are friendly. My suburban sprawl pharmacy compared to the genteel experience at Delta Drug – night and day. And the pharmacist (the actual pharmacist, not a recently paroled stripper-turned-pharm tech with an attitude) asked me to call if I had any problems – and he looked so sincere I think he meant it.
I am now in the hotel room, I had to work for four hours because of some emergencies at work, but now I am blogging, I don’t have to pee, and my beloved fossil diggers will be back soon. All is Dynamite!! Just don’t say “orange” around me.