Today, I'm still fighting off whatever it is I have.
On Memorial Day, I woke up...how can I put this delicately...peeing blood. Never happened before. Don't want to do it again. My husband took me to the ER of our local hospital where a wooden doctor perhaps missing just a tad of a bedside manner, did not take x-rays nor check my urine -- too bloody--and diagnosed me with a bladder / urinary tract infection. He wrote up a bunch of perscriptions and sent me along my merry way. Hmmm. Okay.
I was out within an hour, home in bed and my husband soldiered along with our day --the big Memorial Day Parade. I missed my first deadline ever as a writer. I was supposed to attend the parade and blog in a minute-by-minute description.
Do I trust the doctor? I swallowed down the pills for the past five days. Blood stopped. But I still feel woosey, not myself. The uroligists office says they can't see me till all the medication is finished, as well as my yearly (a year overdue) gynecological check up.
I'm writing the next column, waiting...
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