“What is this new Devilry?” – The sweet agony of a UTI

Oh sweet Jesus Lovers. You think they’re just horror stories. You think it will never happen to you. You live without fear in complete ignorance.

Until it hits you.

Good God in heaven above! The exquisitely extreme pain of the untreated UTI! Am I right ladies? You have one naughty night (or in this case morning) and you’re left paying for it with your vocal chords as you choke back screams in the work toilets.

Bloody loving the unisex loo’s now… not.

Sorry boys, but those muffled groans emanating from stall two was me. Apologies all round.

But ladies, you know where I’m coming from, yes?

I’ll tell you how my nightmare that eventually landed me hunched over in the toilet wishing fervently for refrigerated toilet paper first started.

So I’ve been having a bit of fun with this dude Miguel from Tinder (where else) and last time we had sex it was just godawful. But after copious amounts of beer we were able to talk candidly about the experience and he assured me it was not his best work.

So me being the forgiving (and still incredibly single) girl that I am, I thought I’d give him another crack.

I held off for the night, as last time the booze was a big downfall for both of us. So although he was quite disappointed when I turned off the light with nothing more than a coy, “night night,” he was certainly a happy chappy when his offer of, “sooo, you wanna do something?” was taken up with a giggle and a yes.

So we had the sex, it was better, yay for me.

Miguel had things to do, people to see, the whole spiel, so he was off after a few post coital cuddles.

Here’s where I went so so wrong Lovers.

Normally like clockwork, every time anyone goes spelunking in the bat cave, I pee straight after they have resurfaced.

No snuggles, no kisses, get off me so I can rinse the mince.

This time though, this time, stupid me decided that the bed was just so comfy and I was just so sleepy that cleansing wee’s weren’t necessary.

Surely nothing would come from just one little sleep in?

Oh how wrong I was.

On Monday at work I noticed I had to run to the toilet quite a few times in the morning. I even walked to the public toilets on my break so that my workmates wouldn’t think I was pregnant or something.

At first I thought it was just the three coffee’s I had had in quick succession that had gotten the old bladder working overtime.

But then came the burning…

Aaaaaaarrrrgggggghhhhhyyaaamuuutthhhherrfffuuuucccckkkerrr!

That was basically my experience every time I had to pee after 4pm. And that was a lot.

The worst part of it all was that I couldn’t go to a doctor because my stupid university has introduced this new rule of 100% attendance. Do they not know uni students?!

So anyways, with razor blades nestles betwixt my sweaty thighs, I hobbled to uni and attempted to sit through an incredibly serious counselling class.

While everyone was discussing deep issues and throwing around big words like ‘transference’ and ‘cognitive distortions,’ I was desperately trying not to piss my pants. Did I mention that UTI’s have this awesome double symptom? Not only do you get to hear your poor little panty hamster take on the voice of Gollum and shriek, “it burns us!’ every time you pee, you also have the insistent urge to pee all the goddam time!

And you know what every doctor’s advice is? Make sure you drink plenty of water! Honestly Lovers, every time I heard that advice my eyes would swell with tears and my flaps would shrivel with fear.

More water? There had to be a better way!

After my seemingly endless class finished, I elbowed my way past the security guard trying to close the doors at Chemist Warehouse, a mumbled cry of, “it’s an emergency” trailing in my wake.

I didn’t stop running until I slammed into the Prescriptions In desk. I looked up and groaned inwardly.

Of course, the one time I needed to disclose intimate details about my frigging urinary tract, there just happens to be an incredibly attractive chemist on call to help me.

Oh well, couldn’t get much worse I guess.

I launched into my story, inadvertently bending forward in my low cut dress so he got a good view of the twins.

Stop it Claire! Sex is what got you into this mess in the first place!

“I’m really hoping you can help me,” I panted breathlessly (breathless from the short run through the chemist, not sexy panting, trust me.)

He raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, reminding me to pick up tweezers while I was here. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m pretty sure I have a UTI,” I whispered. Sadly, although his eyebrows were perfect it turns out his ears must have been full of wax because he didn’t hear me the first two times I said it. Finally I threw caution to the wind and practically yelled at the poor guy, “I have a UTI!”

After he wiped my spit from his face he nodded knowingly and gave me a sympathetic smile.

Urgh, stop it man, you’re wasting your undeniable charm. Even Brad Pitt wouldn’t have a chance with me at this particular moment.

“Is there anything I can take until I get to the doctors?” I pleaded, looking deep into his sincere blue eyes.

“There’s nothing to cure a UTI unfortunately, just antibiotics.”

As he saw my face fall and my eyes start to fill with tears he quickly added, ”but we do have something which could stop the burning!”

I take it back, I would sleep with this beautifully besmocked man in a heartbeat if he opened his medicine cabinet for me.

Saucy chemist man led me to the aisle that everyone avoids, or if absolutely necessary scuttles past and swipes things off the shelves before anyone notices them. You know the one Lovers, filled with gastrostop, haemorrhoid cream and a myriad of constipation remedies. It’s the aisle you’re destined to run into ex-boyfriend’s, bosses, or just anyone you really don’t want to see at a chemist at 9pm.

I was pointed in the direction of some concoction called Ural (so original) and my chemist angel advised me to go for the cranberry flavour as that was ‘extra strong.” I resisted the urge to hug him and instead grabbed a box and raced to the counter. The sooner I got home and took this crap the sooner the madness could stop!

Here’s a note to all the pharmacists out there making new and exciting remedies. If there’s one thing I hate more than unimaginative names for medicine, it’s the phrase on the pack that reads, “a pleasantly flavoured effervescent drink.”

Pleasantly flavoured my ass! It was basically bicarb soda died pink in an effort to masquerade as ‘cranberry.’ If I was a cranberry I would be very offended at this point. If it’s going to taste like crap, just say it. Don’t lure me into a false sense of security with your ‘pleasantly flavoured’ shit! I would much prefer if on the box was written, “although difficult to consume due to it’s truly terrible taste, this product should help to alleviate those pesky UTI symptoms, such as the sensation of pissing glass.”

Now that’s a brand of Ural that I would buy!

So anyways I choked back the jizz juice (literally have tasted sprog that tasted better than this concoction) and waited for the magic to take effect.

It did not.

Not for the entire goddam night! I spent the night alternating between sending prayers to the UTI Gods above (they’re totally a thing you know) and reading Ural comment threads on pregnancy websites (because as it turns out our mother’s not only have to squeeze us out of their juice box, they then get punished for it by contracting UTI’s. Talk about unfair.)

Anyways long story short, twenty minutes or so of pleasure on a Sunday morning officially cost me a night’s sleep, a day at work, my pride (why, why did he have to be so attractive?) and quite a large chunk of my sanity.

Moral of the story? Always pee after sex! It’s not an old wives tale ladies! If that bastard wants to snuggle you make him wait!

I’ve had UTI’s before but boy oh boy nothing could compare to this monster! It might even be enough to put me off sex!

Lol, just kidding Lovers! See you next time.

Claire xx

Anti-Pickup line of the week: Don’t bother, I have a UTI.

(Always a guaranteed mood killer ladies. Try it out next time instead of the old headache maneuver.)