[The following doesn’t make for pleasant reading. I only include it because, well it happened. Also, maybe someone might gain some insight as to what they are in for, God help them if they ever have the medical issue I did. Then again, if they are anything like me they would probably just as soon not know, so reader discretion is advised.]
We arrived at the house later in the day and now it was all a matter of waiting until my appointment six days later to have the Blythe installed catheter removed. In the meantime I helped the ex do some things around the house that were mandated to be corrected by the fire marshal after another disastrous wildfire swept through the area weeks earlier. I also install those new brake lights and fitted new turn signal lights on the RV, a job that took way too long to do since I wasn’t moving around too well what with having a rubber tube coming out from my penis and a bag of urine strapped to my leg.
Thursday finally arrived and I showed up at urology for my 8:30 AM appointment. I walked into an empty waiting room area. Well this is nice. After checking in with the receptionist I asked if normally would there be a lot of people in here. She said yes. Yep, ya just gotta appreciate this pandemic thing whenever you can. Soon nurse Michelle came out for me. She was young and very nice. She immediately made me feel comfortable reassuring me that I would be okay in time and I would be able to return to the desert soon. That was nice to hear. She answered all my questions leaving me feeling positive. I told her I wish she was my doctor.”Oh thank you.” She found the catheter and bag I had from Blythe interesting in the sense it was a very old style. She said she could remove the catheter while I stood up which made it easier to do. I dropped my sweat pants and oh boy, that certainly got my attention when she pulled that tube out from my penis! It wasn’t nearly as bad as going in but nevertheless it wasn’t something I would want to endure on a frequent basis. I was now to drink lots of water then return at 2 PM for a bladder scan. I went back home and pee’d on my own for the first time in nearly two weeks. Yet I could tell it was without all the flow I would like to see. This did not bode well with me.
I returned for the 2 PM appointment and this time there were four other sufferers in the waiting area. I checked in and was handed a plastic bag and container for a urine sample. I went in the bathroom and stood there for way too long finally dribbling into the container. Nurse Janis was waiting for me when I came out proudly holding my sample. Janis too was very nice and understanding. I told her how things were working, or rather not working and she said that we’ll do a scan and see what’s going on. The scan was much like when doing an ultrasound checking a pregnant woman and her fetus. She rubbed the jell on me and waved that magic wand around my lower belly. Then she showed me the image. There was a large yellow blob depicting the amount of urine still within the bladder. Damn! But then why should I be surprised? The idea of self-healing miracles is a fantasy. Janis then said I would have to do a self-catheterization which was as she put it “It is simple and nothing as bad as the regular catheter”. Okay. She pulled out a packaged urological catheter from a drawer. It was a sixteen inch long brown latex tube about the diameter of a piece of extra thick spaghetti. Oh my! I have to stick that thing up inside my winky? She then led me through the process telling me what to do as she observed. First wash hands very well. Then lay out a clean work area−a few paper towels. Open the catheter package and lay the long tube out on the paper towels. Squirt a dab of lubricant jelly on the work area then clean the tip of the penis with a cleansing wipe. Next draw the first six inches or so of the tube through the jelly then slowly insert the end into the penis. Okay, I can do this…I think. Slowly, ever so slowly, I began sliding that thing up inside of me. This is not good. This isn’t feeling good either. Go slower. Slower still. Oh shit! I can’t do this. It was about at this point Janis informed me that I would have to self-catheterize myself four times every day! Fuck that! I pulled the tube out and said “I’ll never be able to do this four times a day. Can’t we just put a regular catheter and bag back in place?” She said she could do that and I laid down on the table before I passed out on the floor. I don’t do needles very well and this thing was to me a like very long rubber needle being inserted. I knew what I was in for from my experience in Blythe with Adrianna but I’d much rather go through that once than four times a day albeit it to a lesser degree or so I was told. As I laid there with beads of perspiration on my forehead and the room swirling about, Janis assured me this new catheter would go in better.“We do this all the time whereas an emergency room nurse doesn’t have that much practice at it. They are good at broken bones, stitching up knife wounds, saving heart attack victims but not so much other things like installing catheters.” Yeah right. This time I grabbed a hold of the underside of the bed and hung on. She applied a desensitizing jell on (and maybe in, I’m not too sure as I didn’t look) my penis. “Take a deep breath.” Why do they always say take a deep breath? It’s never done anything for me.
Holy shit!
“Are you in yet?!” I squeaked.
“Yeah, we’re in.”
Whew!
As Janis was cleaning things up she confided in me that she doubted she could self-catheterize herself. If she was trying to make me feel better about myself then it helped. Nevertheless I felt like a wimp. It was then I questioned her on the Flomax and she seemed very surprised I had never been prescribed any as of yet. She sent a message to Dr. Barrisford who was in an “emergency surgery” situation. Nothing came of it by the time I left. They would contact another doctor to write up a prescription while the ex and I went to get a bite to eat. I finally received a text message the Flomax would be ready to pick up in fifteen minutes. We returned back to the Kaiser pharmacy just before closing at 6 PM to pick up my long sought for prescription of Flomax which I was reassured by the pharmacist would get the waters flowing in a couple of days. I asked and she reaffirmed to me that this would be a lifelong medication for me. I was fine with that. I made it to two weeks before my seventy-second birthday having never had to take a prescription drug on a regular basis ever. I can be proud of that. I walked out of that facility as if I held the Holy Grail in that little paper bag. I got back into the car with the ex and sort of lost it with emotion. I finally had something that would give me some hope, something instead of nothing. My next appointment would be eleven days later to have this new catheter removed, another bladder scan and most importantly my first face to face visit with this Dr. Barrisford. Oh how I was looking forward to that in more ways than one.
For years, more than I can remember, I took saw palmetto capsules just because it was said they were good for prostate health. While at Camp Hunker Down in Sisters I had ran out of them. I didn’t buy anymore thinking they probably weren’t doing anything. And then this happened a couple months later. Could there be a connection there or was it just coincidence? I posed the question to everyone I encountered. The nurses were reluctant to give a definite opinion. I sensed them sticking to a dictated policy put to them. When I brought it up with Dr. Barrisford he was quick to pooh-pooh the notion that the herbal product was of any use making it clear that “formal studies declared that saw palmetto did nothing beneficial for the prostate”. He definitely had no respect for “folk medicines”. At least the nurses were inclined to suggest I continue with saw palmetto as it certainly wouldn’t do any harm. I had by then already made up my mind to get back with the program. I researched saw palmetto online and discovered there were different varieties and one should look for those with high fatty acid percentages and plant sterols. Pumpkin seed oil in addition was beneficial for BPH, something I wasn’t all that familiar with. At any rate what I had been getting off the shelf from Walmart was basically just plain saw palmetto in a 320mg dose. I searched through all the products on Amazon and placed an order for a bottle that met the suggested requirements and also had a bunch of other ingredients promoting good prostate health. This one from NOW FOODS was labeled as “clinical strength” potencies that are comparable to those used in clinical trials−a daily dosage three times as much as what I had been taking for all those years. I was going to hit this thing with a full broadside. My order arrived in two days and I started on saw palmetto three days after I began taking the Flomax.
Nine days later I returned for my next visit at 8:30 AM to have new catheter number two removed. Nurse Michelle again had the pleasure. Right afterwards would be the first visit with Barrisford. The guy was I’d say late thirties or early forties; hard to tell with a mask on. He was all business lacking any personality. I said very little and simply listened to all he said laying out a plan of action. He knew I wasn’t happy and extremely disappointed but for the most part I remained silent. There wasn’t really much I could say that would change anything anyway without projecting some sort of attitude. I didn’t want to piss him off. Although I didn’t care for his personality he did instill in me a sense that this guy knows his stuff and I just needed to have some degree of confidence in him. He said it wouldn’t do any good to get a blood sample for a PSA level evaluation for they normally don’t do them for men over seventy. Plus the level would be high anyway with having a catheter in place for as long as I had so the reading would be false. Well at least I dodged that traumatic procedure. He did a rectal prostate exam, always a pleasant experience, and quickly said he felt no nodules and could confidently rule out cancer. Okay, I’ll take that as a win. He would schedule me for a return visit eight days later for a camera view of inside the bladder (sticking a micro-camera the size of the catheter tube up the penis−that should be an E-ticket thrill ride) and a scan of the prostate to get a size reading which amounted to inserting some sort of device up the butt which in my mind I pictured about the same size of the scan tool Janis had used on my bladder. Oh good grief! I left the office filled with fear and dread. I was to return later at 2:30 PM for another bladder scan.
The rest of the day I drank my water and dribbled when I peed. This was not good. I returned already knowing my fate. Upon checking in I was to go pee (no urine sample this time) and then Michelle came to get me. I told her not to even bother with the scan. Things weren’t working. We had to re-do the self-catheterization lessons. There would be no avoiding it now. She was very patient with me and helped me as much as she could but I simply had to do it myself. I made it further than I did previously with Janis but had to quit yet again part way in. It was too much for me. She finished up inserting the catheter saying I was almost there with only an inch more to go. It wasn’t a feel good experience. This time I had a half a liter of urine backed up in there. I felt like a complete wimp, a real loser. She told me it happens all the time. She said “I’ve had men cry and I have even been kicked once”. Really? Well that helped me feel a bit better about myself. We talked about what I could do to make it work for me back home going solo. She said if I could do it standing up it would go in easier and always hold your penis straight down for a smoother run in. I liked her idea of being in the bathtub on my knees when I did this. If I passed out I wouldn’t fall and hurt myself. “How would I know if I am in far enough if I’m doing this with my eyes closed?”
“You’ll hear the urine flow into the beaker.” She assured me it would get easier after a couple of times and with less discomfort. I could only hope she was right.
That evening I did my first self-catheterization. I put it off as long as I could but eventually had to screw up the courage and go into the bathroom. I slowly went through all the pre-insertion prep stalling as much as I could but time seemed to be going by fast, too fast. It was time to step into the bath tub. I then realized that I couldn’t do this with my eyes closed; I have to see the tube guiding it into the hole of my penis! Oh God! Once I got the tip inserted I then could look away, close my eyes and take myself to a happy place or just pass out. It was at this point time reversed speed and it seemed like it would be forever before I reached the promised land. I pressed the rubber tube in very slowly going millimeter by millimeter. Points along the way were tender to pass by feeling as if all of a sudden the rubber tube had become a long piercing steel needle. I would come to learn that the break through point into the bladder itself would always be the worst part and most painful. All I can say was how rewarding it was to hear the water hit that plastic beaker. I did it! Each time I self-catheterized I learned something new to ease the process. I have to admit it went a little bit easier each time just as Michele said but still there would always be points along the journey I had that hypodermic needle sensation inside my penis and I just had to force my way beyond that. But a new development took place the day after catheter class with Michelle. I was able to pee with a good flow and steady stream for the first time since leaving the desert. It wasn’t much but it was a step in the right direction. I felt the Flomax was beginning to kick in. Maybe the saw palmetto too but typically that would take a few weeks to show any benefits. I was very happy feeling optimistic for the first time.
The week dragged on with me having to psyche myself up each time to do the self-catheterization daily, more than once. It really was a test of my will power each and every time. In five days it would be my birthday. I posted on the blog about the event: Today I turn 72 years of age. I have only been in a hospital once, for a hernia repair back when in my thirties. Twelve years ago when a bout of the flu turned into pneumonia was the first time I ever went to an emergency room for care, twice (that was a life changing event!). Neither of those events were the fault of my body letting me down and for that I am very grateful. And so it wasn’t until in my eighth decade of life that I needed medical care and was placed on a prescription drug for the first time due to my body going haywire. I can take some solace in that. This current situation I can accept, if I have to, I guess. It’s no picnic. The things I am having to go through is giving me a good insight as to the tortures those poor souls had to endure during the Spanish Inquisition.
That day I received a birthday gift: a urinary tract infection. No small wonder what with all the foreign objects that had been stuffed up into my penis over the past month. Happy birthday to me! I called Kaiser and a doctor (not Barrisford) got back to me advising me to go in and give a urine sample and he would leave a prescription with the pharmacy for an antibiotic.
I arrived at the lab on the third floor and a harried nurse checked me in, gave me a small cup to pee in and led me through a room where two long rows of people were giving blood samples. I didn’t look and was very grateful all I had to do was pee…if I could. The door to the toilet was locked. Soon a young girl exited. “You may want to go to another bathroom. The toilet is plugged up.” I held up my cup. “This is my toilet.” I was so happy that I was able to produce a small quantity into that little container.
Every time I went to the Kaiser building someone would be stationed outside with a handheld thermometer scanning people’s foreheads for a temperature and question them about if they had been experiencing any of a short list of COVID-19 symptoms. After giving my sample I walked on out in front of God and everybody (a couple dozen people outside waiting to give a blood sample) with the zipper of my pants down on my way back outside. The scanner girl wished me a nice day. I told her it was my birthday and it could be a lot nicer but thank you. “Oh, it’s my birthday too!” she replied. How weird was that? I picked up my prescription an hour later and went home.
The next day I was watching a YouTube video by a woman who had installed a diesel heater in her trailer. This led me to her travel blog and among the posts she had was one about testing five different urinary devices for women−pee funnels. She wrote she had a small bladder and was always having to go pee and in many cases a toilet wasn’t available thus she had mastered the act of squatting. In her article she quoted a study done with a group of women that revealed when standing to pee they were able to void more completely than when squatting or even sitting on a toilet. This got me to thinking. For most of my adult life I had been sitting on the toilet to pee. I began doing this as it eliminated any splatter mess for the wife to deal with plus it was just more comfortable to sit and relax and not have to pay attention on my aim. When I installed the composting toilet in the RV four years back sitting to pee was pretty much mandatory. The urine diverter is a small target and even the manufacturer stated that men would have to accept the fact that sitting to use the toilet was pretty much required when peeing, so this was never an issue with me. But now I was faced with a possibility of better and more complete urinations if I stood. It made sense. Standing, the urine travel route would be in more of a direct straight line aided by gravity. What to do? I thought about peeing into a plastic bucket positioned on the toilet seat. I bettered this idea by using a plastic wash basin. That day I tried out my new plan and felt the water (what small amount there was) flowed more readily. This would be the way to go. I was very pleased with this new prospect. [I later switched out the basin for a three pound size plastic Folgers coffee canister]
Then that night it all went to hell.
A awoke at 11 PM after a catheter drain around three hours earlier that evening before going to bed. I had to pee but couldn’t produce more than a few drops into the plastic wash basin. It was very painful due to the infection. Two hours later I was in agony. There was nothing I could do to get the waters flowing. I had to self-catheterize again hoping for something. I was shocked to see I drained three quarters of a quart of urine. I had just revisited day one of this ordeal when at the emergency room in Blythe nearly a month earlier. Another complete shutdown with a large amount of urine retained in the bladder only this time with the added bonus of pissing fire when I could actually pee. Never before had I appreciated the ability to self-catheterize as I did then at one o’clock in the morning. I felt so much better afterwards and went back to sleep. At nine in the morning at my second and third attempt I finally had a painful flow in a small stream. Had I turned the corner on this thing? I was wiped out for the whole day after the agony of that night.
The next night was a Monday night, number three of this new development. I got up several times throughout the night to stand there over the plastic wash basin sitting on the toilet seat lid. I had found this standing up really helped in peeing. The wide basin helped contain the dribbling splatter spray out from the penis. Each urination though was ever increasing agony. Yet amazingly for the first time I witnessed a good steady stream just like back in the days of old. I stood there leaning against the wall and cried. Not from the excruciating pain but from the sheer joy of seeing the Flomax had finally kicked in. I got up again at 6 AM, pissed more razor blades then drank a glass of orange juice with cranberry juice mixed in while I ate a bagel. I went back to bed and fell asleep exhausted. I woke up three hours later having to pee again. Oh my God!! The pain had lessened considerably and there was still that good steady stream of urine to see. There were more tears as I leaned over the wash basin sitting on the toilet lid, tears of relief. A short time later I had another pee. It was the same and I got very emotional once again. I did a catheter drain right after and had only retained 130 ml. I couldn’t hold back the tears for a third time. Had I finally began the exit of this living hell? The next day it would have been a full month of misery. It felt it had been twice that long.
The doctor who assessed the urine sample got back to me after I had questioned him earlier on his comment to “…continue the catheterizations if my retention amounts were over 200 ml”. I had written to him that I had a couple of 150 ml and 100 ml drains before the infection set in. Did that mean I could stop if they were less than 200 milliliters? He confirmed that yes I could stop. I had already searched the internet (you know how trustworthy the internet is) and learned that amounts under 200 ml of urine retained in men aged over seventy was acceptable. The next day I had a 150 ml and then later a 130 ml drain. Wednesday I went all day waiting for just before going to bed to self-catheterize. I was rewarded with a 100 milliliter residual urine drain. It was over. I could stop. No more self-catheterizations. This looked like it would be the best Thanksgiving Day ever for me.
The antibiotics for the urinary infection were doing the job but I felt I had no energy. I was told taking antibiotics would do that to a person. I could live with that. I received a statement from Kaiser which showed Palo Verde Hospital in Blythe had charged my health plan $850 for the emergency room visit. I was only going to be responsible for $250 of that. I was fine with that. I was so grateful that they were there for me and took care of the situation. A couple weeks later another statement showed up. This was in the amount of $746 for Doctor Frank Arko. Seriously? That hard of hearing old man stepped into my curtained cubicle for only a half a minute and said no more than a dozen or so words to me. He did nothing. I watched him shuffle along back and forth in the hallway essentially being in the way of the rest of the personnel trying to do their jobs and here he was charging Kaiser for doing nothing. I called Kaiser to tell them all of this thinking they’d want to know their being scammed. The lady didn’t seem to care. [A month later I called Palo Verde Hospital after I learned the doctors there were not part of the hospital staff but doctors who had their own private practices and were contracted for duty calls to the hospital. I left a review of worthless Dr. Arko suggesting he be put out to pasture. Now on a roll, I filled out an online complaint form to Kaiser on Dr. Barrisford and how he did nothing for me but fill me with fear and dread and could have prevented me from two months of misery had he only prescribed the Flomax on that initial phone consultation. I felt better.]
Once everything seemed to be functioning properly I would give myself two weeks just to be sure before heading back to Arizona. The days crawled on and I kept asking the ex for projects she needed done around the house to keep me busy and not be bored. Much of what I was able to do for her was fire prevention requirements handed down as the result of a second disastrous wild fire that swept through the area this year. I also took The Little House on the Highway into my local Mercedes mechanic for a safety check, but mainly for a check of the brakes all around. If they were getting close to be in need of replacing I wanted these guys to do it rather than some unknown out in Alabama or wherever. It turned out that even though there had been in place for over forty thousand miles in the past four years when I last had new brake pads and rotors installed there was only two millimeters of wear. This was great to hear for all during that time I had been practicing gearing down for all stops allowing the motor to do most of the braking. The only thing they found that needed attention were the windshield wipers. I can manage that.
The media kept touting the increasing numbers of COVID-19 cases due to the recent Thanksgiving spread. Many states were once again looking at complete lockdowns as intensive care units of hospitals across the country were maxing out in occupancy. California’s do as I say, not as I do goofy Governor Newsome was a leader of crazy edicts which many counties within the state had little or no intentions of following. Nevertheless this gave me cause for concern with nonessential travel being one of the restrictions imposed. I just wanted to get out of the state and back into the free wide-open expanses of the desert away from all of the infected. And so because of this I decided to leave a few days early of my two week all-is-clear guideline.