#he takes the piss so much he makes urologists look bad

[columboscreens]

[pookiepoodle]

Samples - Osamu x Reader

This is for the Bad Doctor’s Collab run by @gourmetrat. Firstly, I’d like to thank them for giving me the opportunity to participate in such a cool event! I had a lot of fun writing this and I’m excited to see all the other submissions! Now, let’s get down to buisness!

This is a piss kink fic, with dub-con. It’s written for a female reader but in the future I’m gonna try to rewrite for a male reader (no promises). 

Please enjoy, check out my masterlist and send in requests!

You were the perfect patient, to Osamu Miya. 

When he’d called out your name to the crowded waiting room, you’d timidly stood up, shyly making your way over to him. Everyone knew that he was a urologist, but he had the decency to not say it too much. After all, most of his patients were quite embarrassed to be seen in his office. You weren’t an exception to this rule with your flushed cheeks and nervous glances.

His eyes lit up, his mind racing with possibilities as he led you to his office, locking the door behind you. You were so beautiful… so sweet. You’d be easy to trick, to manipulate into his little toy. Being a Urologist meant you had to tolerate piss, but Osamu did more than tolerate it. 

“So, what brings ye here today?” Osamu exclaimed, his loud voice filling the otherwise quiet room. The only sound for a moment was his footsteps as he made his way to the desk littered with lab reports and pens. 

He could barely hear you whisper something under your breath, unable to meet your handsome doctor’s eyes as you mumbled. 

“I’ll need ya to speak up if I’m gonna help ya,” he chuckled, leaning back into his leather chair. The view was spectacular as he gazed at your chest, following the curves and lines all the way down to your shoes before meeting your eyes.

“I… I think I have a UTI,” you finally said, only slightly louder. But it was enough to have Osamu understand. It wasn’t too uncommon in his line of work and he quickly stood, the chair squeaking with the sudden motion. He began moving to the cabinets behind you, making your breath hitch. You didn’t dare to turn around as he began to hum, the sound of plastic being moved around. 

“Well, I’m gonna need a sample to send to the lab, just so we can decide if we need to give ya an antibiotic,” he explained, moving back to his seat. With a little flourish, he placed the plastic cup onto the table. 

Maybe he was being a bad doctor… but, god, he wanted to push you a little as you stood up. You’d grabbed the empty container, mumbling your thanks before turning to the bathroom attached to his office. 

But just as you rested your hand on the handle, his voice filled the room, making you jump.

“Bad news, sweetheart, that’s not gonna be an option.”

“Huh?”

“Something’s up with the bathroom, I can’t let ya in their…”

“Oh…” you mumbled, letting go of the handle and taking a step back before glancing to the door,” I could always… is their public bathrooms?”

“There are,” Osamu grinned, enjoying the brief relief on your face before he continued,” but you’d have to walk through that crowded waiting room and back.”

It took a few minutes for it to dawn on you what exactly he was implying and your face suddenly paled. Oh. 

You’d have to walk through the waiting room, with your cup of pee for everyone to see. 

“But… Do you have a bag or anything I could use?” you exclaimed softly, cringing as you asked. Osamu shook his head, closing the cabinet door which did contain brown paper bags. Better to let you think he was the good guy rather than a liar. 

“Sadly, all I’ve got are plastic ones,” he smiled, the apologetic expression the exact opposite of his true intentions.

You couldn’t help but whine, sinking back down onto the check up table with a look of despair.

“I’m going to need that sample today by the way, the lab is going to be closed this weekend and the last shipment of samples is going out tonight,” Osamu continued, lying through his teeth.

“But… I need to get the train home, there’s no way I could make it back in time!”

“That’s a pity… but I do have a small idea.”

Before you could ask what this small idea was, Osamu had rolled his chair right in front of you, his brown eyes following the dips and curves of your body.

“It’s a bit unusual but I don’t mind letting you use my office,” he drawled, his thick hand reaching out to rest on your knee. The gesture appeared to be one of comfort, but there was a far less innocent intention as he gave you a small squeeze. You could have cried for joy - this wonderful, handsome doctor was so kind…

“But I can’t let ya be in here alone, of course.”

That made you freeze, your eyes widening as you met his jaw agape. Surely, he couldn’t mean…

“Hell,” he grinned, suddenly standing up and towering over you, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear as he continued,” I’ll even help ya collect a sample. My treat.”

“Wait, I couldn’t… that has to break a rule, this isn’t right!” you squeaked, flushing as his hand began to make its way up your thigh, slipping under your skirt. 

“Not at all, I’m a doctor, Miss Y/N,” he chuckled, his fingers running along the edge of your panties,” Trust me, I’ve helped plenty of patients, though none as pretty as ya.” It was actually true. Osamu was used to this, especially with his more elderly patient who needed some assistance. Normally, though, the task was mundane - this, he felt, was going to be the complete opposite.

“So… this is normal?” you whispered, wriggling when you felt his thick fingers run along the edge of your panties.

“Mhm. Completely,” he assured you, knowing that you were so close to agreeing. You just needed a final push. 

“Besides,” he continued, meeting your eyes and giving you the smallest smirk,” you wanna be a good patient, right?”

…

That’s how you found yourself standing in the middle of his office, your skirt and panties folded neatly on the check up table and Osamu behind you, cup in hand. 

“I… I don’t know if I can do this,” you whimpered, unable to look down. You’d never been in such a position before, especially when you were about to do something so taboo.

“Of course ya can, it’s easy,” he hummed, gazing down at your thighs and the little mound of curls which hid your precious holes from his sight. 

“I know, it’s just really embarrassing,” you continued, pouting slightly as you looked over at his desk. 

“I know, but remember, I’m your doctor,” he continued. His hand resting on your thigh suddenly darted between your legs, making you squeak and clench around him.

“Ah, wait!”

“Come on, Miss Y/N, we don’t have all day,” he smiled, ignoring your protests as he began to push your lips apart. Osamu wanted to groan, you were soaked.

“I know, but still, I’ve never…” you started, pausing. 

“Never what?”

“I’ve never… been touched like this,” you confessed, blushing brightly. 

“Well, lucky me,” 

You shivered when you felt his fingers slide against your holes, before the cool rim of plastic was pressed against you.

“Now piss.”

If this were a cliche fanfic or storyline, you’d have protested, still trying to cling to any dignity left. But you’d been told before the appointment to drink plenty of water so you’d be able to give a sample no problem.

So, with his crude words, the floodgates opened, much to Osamu’s surprise. He had expected you to whine and protest, begging for some privacy. But instead, you were pressed against his firm body, an expression of relief gracing your face as you quickly filled the cup. 

Perhaps you’d drunk a little too much water…

Your eyes suddenly snapped open when you heard splashing against the lino floor, making you jump back and gaze down. The cup was overflowing and you were still peeing, an embarrassing puddle forming on Osamu’s sterile office floor. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I can’t-” you whined, bright red as the stream began to taper off. Soon, only a few drops echoed in the room, but all you could hear was your frantic heartbeat. You had just peed on his floor… like an animal. God, was that a wet spot on his coat?!

But before you could say a word, a hand cupped your hot face, forcing you to meet the doctor’s eyes. 

“Do it again.”

[crispturquoisewater]

This blog begins where the end of my journey should have been, but instead, it looks evermore likely, and evermore hauntingly, like it is in fact, just the beginning.

I had imagined that after four months of brutal illness, a multitude of infections, and endless other issues, that the turning of the new year would entail a welcome wave of freedom from hospital, god-awful doctors, and the hell that I had been staggering through in order to try and get better. Instead, the New Year has brought new challenges, the continuation of unreseolved illnesses, and even worse, a hightened sense of arrogance and narcissism from certain doctors that make this journey utterly unbearable.

Whilst writing this first post, I am passing an astonishing amount of blood, my back hurts, my bones feel like they’re broken they’re so painful, my feet are swollen and hard to walk on, and despite all of this, my doctor will not refer me to a nephrologist because it is “not his job”. I shall come to explain.

You wonder; when doctors took an oath to act within their patient’s best interest at all times, did they ever intend to adhere to that? Did they start off well and distend into a world of atrocity and cruel narcissism, acquiring a raw sense of vulgarity along the way? Either way, his leaving me to get sicker, in order to prove a point, is abhorrent and negligent.

Here’s what happened this week...

About 6 months ago, I started peeing large amounts of blood. Sometimes the urine sample would show infection, sometimes it wouldn’t. I got treated over 8 times with antibiotics, but after three months of repeated bloody urine, agonising pain in my back, swollen feet and a distended belly (in my opinion everything pointed to issues with my kidneys), and no infection showing, I told the surgery that I thought it was time that I was referred to a specialist - because constantly pissing blood is surely not normal. It’s beggars belief that after months of bleeding my doctors’ didn’t take the initiative to refer me themselves or even try to look into the issue further - instead of keep sending the sample off for cytology and getting the same results.

I got referred to Urology - even though the symptoms suggested it was my kidneys and the doctor actually asked if I had ever seen a nephrologist, they only referred me to urology - and after being throughly checked, the urology consultant sent a letter to my surgery and asked the GP to please refer me to nephrology, because the bleeding is clearly not right but is not coming from my bladder.

What happened next is, to say the least, astounding.

After spending a morning in hospital earlier this week (as many days are spent, now), the blood results showed that my white bloods, neutrophils and inflammation markers had raised from bloods taken 10 days before (I was in hospital for a ten-day follow-up because the week before I had developed a bad rash from new drugs I am taking for adrenal insufficiency). I said to the ER doctor that I had started passing loads of blood again that day (it comes and goes), and asked him to do a dip-test. He refused. He said that he didn’t want to give me more antibiotics and therefore, he didn’t want to test the urine to see if there was an infection. 🥴I don’t want anymore drugs. In fact, at this point, I think it’s probably dangerous to give me more antibiotics when they’re clearly not working. But surely, it’s not right for me to be passing so much blood and for the doctor to not even acknowledge it or try to find out what is going on. In fact, he didn’t even mention it in his discharge letter. I was happy not to spend any longer in hospital, but I left feeling slightly confused and, yet again, defeated. I find it bizarre that my bloods are showing an infection, along with bleeding profusely and yet I am told it is normal. I hate to dispute it, but I raised my questions, was told that the rise in bloods were due to my drugs (even though through multiple infections my inflammation markers have never risen and I know it isn’t my drugs because my dose has gone down, now up), and left.

If there is one way that this horrendous period of illness has made me feel, it’s defeated. As well as a feeling of being gagged and silenced and as though I could be screaming into the abyss, telling the doctors what is wrong, whilst being patted on the head, with a derisive smirk plastered across their faces, as they snigger and repeat, ‘there, there’. It’s been emotionally, physically and psychology horrendous.

After my midweek morning in hospital, I spoke to my GP that afternoon. I needed to ask him to make the referral to the nephrologist, as requested by the urologist in the letter. Nothing is ever done off the surgery’s own backs - even blood results that require attention takes for the patient to call up and prompt them to be looked at. I had called earlier in the week to ask for the referral to be made to the same hospital that I had been seen at for Urology, but I was told by the secretary that I would have to speak to a doctor for the referral to be made. Queue the 8am rush, and over 100 phone calls to try and get an appointment.

So, after three days, on the afternoon of the morning I had spent in hospital, my GP called me. Immediately, his tight, clipped tone was ready to bite. I explained that the Urologist had asked the surgery to refer me to nephrology in the letter and asked for the referral to be made. However, before I could finish my sentence, he told me that there was no letter on the system. He clearly had not looked. I explained that there was definitely a letter on the system because I get a copy and the secretary had printed their copy two days before, on the Monday. He looked again and miraculously, he found it, but not without making comment that it was in the “wrong” format. Of course, that was the reason.

I sat quietly whilst he read. And then, with an outraged scoff, he angrily spat that the referral should have been made internally and that it was solely down to “abject laziness” from the hospital that it had not been done. He told me that it was not his job to do it and, despite me bleeding heavily from what looks to be my kidneys, being in excruciating pain and feeling very sick, he told me that he would send the letter back to Urology and tell them to do it themselves. I was dumbfounded. But as ever, as with many who have had to undertake the constant battle of dealing with doctors through complex illness might be familiar with, I had to be the one to keep the cool head and stay calm.

I told him that when I had the conversation with my urology consultant, that she said it was for the surgery to make the referral, so I understood it was for them to do. He replied “absolutely not” before accusing the hospital of “workload shifting” and telling me that patients “choose to believe” that it is for the surgery to make the referral to another specialist. As it stands, I’m pretty sure that when one specialist has finished with you, the discharge letter has to come back to the surgery and the surgery has to be the coordinator, to refer you to the next specialist. But my GP was adamant that the hospital was lazy and useless and that they were the cause of any delay I might suffer.

Given how ill I have been, the amount I have been through, being immunosuppressed and any infection potentially being critical, I was flabbergasted that he was refusing to make the referral because he wanted to prove a point. I explained that whilst the two (the hospital and the surgery) disagreed, I was the one stuck in the middle whilst getting more sick. He said “I know” but told me that they had to learn to do it right.

I emailed the hospital the next morning, telling them his opinion and begging them to please make the referral. I followed up this email with a phone call on Friday morning, but as yet, have heard nothing. It’s always such a battle, and that, along with the already horrendous and draining existence of illness and constant hospital, makes everything so much worse. Multiple times I have told the surgery I am struggling with the stress of all of this, but despite offering help, or even acknowledging my concerns, they continue to play me like the ball against their two bats.

It’s Saturday evening and I am bleeding so heavily that I’m having to wear a sanitary as if I’m on a period. I feel sick. I’m in pain. And I have absolutely no idea where to turn anymore. Family have told me to go to ER but they will simply tell me that I’m waiting to see a specialist, which, currently I’m not because the referral hasn’t even been made.

The day after speaking to that GP, I spoke to another one. I told him that I needed my urine dipped. I handed in my blood-drenched urine and got told there was no infection but that it would be sent away to cytology anyway, just in case. I wonder what the protocol for these doctors is, when a young female patient is bleeding continuously, at times of no infection, with raised white blood counts and inflammation markers? Because all I am being faced with, is silence. I don’t even have the confidence to go to hospital anymore, because I feel as though I will be ignored.

And so, I am sitting here, desperate for the bleeding and pain to stop, but with no idea how.

[witchconnectingdotes]

hello! if you have the time i’d like to ask for a general reading and what my career in the future might be/consist of?? thank you very much 🥰 LB

Hello🌹❤

I am very pissed at tumblr it refuses to post my answers. This is way shorter than it is supposed to be bc I kept rewriting it.

I pulled the six of swords that represents progress, moving into calmer waters, moving on or moving forward. You might be transitioning from a period of ups and downs . Maybe you have had some conflicts home conflicts or just with people. You have been standing up for yourself for quite a while, I also see past rivalry of just overall conflicts.

I pulled the queen of wands which is a very high energy enthusiastic woman. People will be tired just looking at you because you are always on the go.You need to feel attractive, believe in yourself, and be full of energy. This card indicates that you are at a new plateau in your development. You are able to more clearly see where you have been and can appreciate the trials and tribulations of days gone by as much as you can the victories, for the good and bad have made you a more complete person.

The reversed six of cups may be a sign you have lost touch with your inner child and life has become boring, repetitive, and ‘stale’. You might be closed off from new opportunities and gifts from the divind, simply because you are taking on too much of the responsibility and heaviness and it is understandable as the queen of wands can also represent being chaotic and forgetful as the amount of things you have taken on might take their toll after a while.  

the four of cups reversed suggests that you feel uninspired, disillusioned, or disappointed with the world around you. Everything seems hard, and instead of dealing with it head on, you’re choosing to retreat. 

The advice cards seem to ask you the same message to just express your feelings and nutur them maybe be more creative

The queen of cups tells you to nurture your feelings.Create beauty around you. Surround yourself with things that make you feel calm and harmonious.  Make your environment as nurturing as possible.The Queen of Cups can also advise you to listen closely to others. Let them express their feelings freely. You can find understanding by practicing compassionate listening.

The ace of cups' advice is to get in touch with your deepest subconscious feelings because they are speaking to you directly from superconsciousness. And it also advises you to find love in yourself first before you can attract love from another person.

Finally the moon reversed. it indicates that you may have been neglecting your deeper instincts. More recently, you may have had to conform to the demands of the external world to survive. It's time to ask yourself how you really feel.

_______________________________________

Regarding your career

Your job will require some effort from you as I pulled the eight of Pentacles your job will require a lot of perseverance and efforts and work to get where you want or where you are supposed to be

I also pulled the hierophant which talks about universities and getting a higher education or this field you might want to consider working as a college teacher or a judge or maybe even a lawyer a counselor and account these kind of jobs that require doing the right thing at the right time. You might need training in another field in order to get the job you really wish. The Hierophant symbolizes universities and colleges. He stands for group order and society. He can represent any group in society that feeds people social order. This kind of order is needed in order for society to function.

This might be the same message woth the justice card I pulled. The Justice card might indicate making a very harmonious Place working in law or Justice field maybe having a good way with talking, talking in a good way, making good decisions which for me is like the hierophant card, I mean it is a quite similar and message for your career. Careers like : Judge. Lawyer. Mediator. Politician. Arbitrator. Diplomat. Urologist. Peace Keeper. Peace Corps. Educator. Manager, Director, Supervisor... are indicated by this card. Justice as a person wants everything to be balanced and harmonious.

In addition to that the 7 of swords reverszd that there will be a good amout of mind work in your career I see some brainstorming, using different strategies, outsmarting someone, of course if you consider law or finances related jobs this comes up. I also see you having your wau with words especially with the justice card. Here is someone who knows what to say and when to say it I guess. Paired with the hierophant and the 8 of pentacles it may also indicated rebelling against tradition by teaching yourself. Here I see with the king of pentacles a career where you own what you have, you own your buisness so maybe entrepeneur. I get this sense with the 6 of pentacles too where you invest generously knowing that it will come back. Or you might just help people. Finally I also see a possibility of care giver with the knigth of cups.

Ps : I see finacial stability with these cards too.

Just look for a passion and work on it you will get where you want to be.

Have a good day ❤

[nonlethal2]

05/26/21- Life is mysterious just like me.

So much is going on in my life. A lot of downs and hardly any ups. Dave and I currently are still together. Not sure what to make of it. I guess the place to start is he came back from his sister's again. Yes I took him back yet again. I almost didn't. When he left I took all his stuff out of the bedroom. I even went so far as to pay the dollar from the post office and have his mail forwarded. However, I canceled it and drove up there on a Sunday to bring him back. He was lucky in that he didn't get the leave but he still had his job. Things went back to how they were. Same routine and everything.

Than March 26th or I should say a couple days before that. I was on Facebook and noticed my best friend Allan had made some comments on a post. This guy made some comments to him. When I saw this guys comments it felt like he was going after my friend. I'm the type of person that if you are going to go after my friend then I'm coming after you. I made some comments to this guy. I did look at his profile and seen he was from Scotland and that him and Allan were Facebook friends. His name was Allan Kerr, a 53 year old man from Scotland. Anyway him and I started talking. We just hit it off. Turns out that he said he seen the comments on other post that Allan and I made and he saw that we were friends. He looked at my profile and was curious because Allan Sneddon never talked about me. He said he made those comments to get my attention. I told him you got my attention alright and explained to him how I thought he was attacking my best friend. He told me it was just banter and harmless. He told me that him and Allan work together and if they have any issues or something he would have phoned him. I asked him if he was curios about me why didn't he just ask Allan? He said he preferred what he did. We started talking on March 26th which we classified our anniversary. He is a leo which for the most part he doesn't act like a typical leo. I had taken days off around this time because of Easter. I was planning on getting work done around the house. However I found most of my time talking to Allan K. We talked about everything. I told him about my marriage, about Hill, Dave. I told him that I felt like an idiot because I had taken dave back a number of times after he walked out on me. That I supported him for over a year while he basically did whatever he wanted. I told him that I was an idiot. Which he tried to tell me that I wasn't. I went on to tell him about my depression which he accepted. It seemed like this man who was on the other side of the ocean cared about me and wanted to get to know me. However, the more I started to know him. I felt like he didn't know me. He works out and cares about himself. I seen a picture of his ex girlfriend and I am thinking doesn't he realize that I don't look anything like her? I sent him pictures of myself and he sent some of him. I showed Allan Sneddon the picture of his girlfriend and told him that I don't look like her. He tried to tell me that his ex looked like a boy and that I was better looking then her.

I did what I normally do with guys that I am into. I started pushing him away. I had Dave here and honestly I didn't want to get hurt by either of them so I was pushing Allan Kerr away. He wasn't going, the more I pushed the more determined he was going to stay. I started to tell my mom about him and how I was really into him. However I wasn't sure what to do. I sent my mom a picture of his passport. I was waiting for her to lecture me but there wasn't one. Not like before. She finally said she seen his age and said that I gave Carly a hard time because of Jeff's age but I told her that was a different situation. I found myself tell Dave about the comments but didn't say anything more. I lost interest in my work. I didn't care which is not like me. I am a hard worker and have a strong work ethic but I was just at a point with work that I bust my butt and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. All my time pretty much was spent talking to Allan K.

In April Dave went to the urologist and got basically viagria to help with his erectile disfunction. However, he gets the pills filled and that was it. Nothing, he didn't take them or try. I am left thinking this guy who says he wants to be with me. Loves me and said he wants a kid with me but yet doesn't want to take this pills? At this point I am just like whatever. I'm thinking he is just going to bail anyway and when it happens that's it.

I do need to go back. In March the beginning I got my vacancies the first shot for Covid. I had to go back March 28th I believe which was a Sunday. Of course we had Kaleb that weekend. I was worried because that's a lot of driving so I was worried about the dogs. Plus I heard some people had bad side effects with the second shot. Dave and I were fighting all weekend. We go for my shot. Afterwards I was thinking we would eat. He picks this Asian restaurant and we go in. It's really small. Thinking it was a buffet. Go up and the food is all hatchi. I'm looking at it all and thinking there's nothing here I'm going to be able to eat. I go to head back to the table to sit down and he flips out yelling what you're not eating? Fine than let's go. He takes Kaleb and walks out after causing a scene. I was sitting at the table embarrassed. The girl says what he doesn't want to try it? I told her I guess not. I got up and walked out. Now it's April. I'm still talked to Allan K. Dave tells me his sister is coming in May and we will have to see about going up to Jess house to meet them. Honestly I didn't want to go. Last time he was there in Feb I know he trashed me. Now I have to go be with these people who are probably thinking I'm a piece of shit. I told him that as well as Kaleb birthday party which was April 24th a Knobel's. It seems like Knobel's and I are cussed. He was getting upset by my point of view. The weekend of Kaleb birthday of course he waits until the last minute to get him a gift which I picked out which is a digital camera. We go to Knobel's and he tells me to pull up front since we have stuff to drop off. I do it yet no one is directing anything. I ask him what pavilion is it? He said he didn't know. I told him to call his ex. We get out of the car and start carrying things. Looking for the pavilion. Nothing. I'm mad, he is pissed off. Again he yells at me in public. I go back to my car. I wait. I'm parked in a reserved birthday parking spot and know the person will be here any minute. I go and get this big wagon. I unload my car and go pulling the wagon. I find dave and give it to him. I go find a place to park. I'm sitting in the car and I'm thinking do I need this? I can just leave and be done. However, I decided against it since it was Kaleb's day. I start walking to the park when Corey and Dana pull over and she tells me Dave was calling her and going off and he threw Kaleb at her. I said I know it's nothing knew. I ended up taking Kaleb to the park with me. Got threw the birthday and seen his mom who didn't really say anything to me. I meet his brother Adam.

If you are keeping track that is twice within two months he went off on me in public and I took it. Fast forward and May the sister comes and we have Kaleb for the weekend. Going up on Saturday for a cookout and meet her. His mother that day messages Dave to see if she would be welcomed at Jess barbecue. See the mother didn't know about it until Dave said something at Kaleb's birthday party. I told Dave he shouldn't get involved and his mom needs to talk to Jess about that not him. He sent her a message saying something to that affect.

We go there. Hanging out. Before hand I asked Dave if he was going to smoke. He said he might. I told him I didn't want him to. I don't get why he thinks it's fair that he can smoke and drink yet me being younger that I need to be the responsible one. He said he wouldn't smoke. I need to rewind again. Friday night we went to pick Kaleb up and we were talked to by Dana and Corey. Basically Kaleb is using bad language which he gets from Dave in school and the teacher is taking notes. Also Corey called Dave out on not being a good dad being he was two months behind on child support. He told Dave he needs to step up. Dave was so upset and frustrated. Now back to Saturday. This sister Leann shows up. She seems like a nice girl. We do introductions and everything one is hanging out. Dave isn't talking and keeping a distance. Than his sister's are talking about there past and he breaks down. I am comforting him. Jess comes and hangs him a joint and tells him to take a hit. It will help. He takes it and does it. I was so disappointed. I couldn't believe this guy. He just was talked to and here he is smoking in front of his son. I went over to him and told him that I'm leaving in 45 minutes to go home. He starts yelling at me in front of everyone that he is fucking done. Fuck me and that I can go and leave the fucking car seat. I said is that really what you want? He broke down and Leann was trying to figure out what was going on. I was explaining it and it almost seemed like she felt like I was controlling him. Kaleb came up during his outburst but left to go play again. He calmed down and I stayed. I really didn't talk to him and tried to avoid him. On the way home. My phone lit up. It was a message from Allan K. I just broke down crying in the car and told him that I was done. I'm done being yelled at in public. In front of his family. He didn't say anything. The next day. I told Dave about Allan and I. I told him that we were just talking and how it came about and that he was interested in me. We went around and round that day. I thought for sure he would go but he didn't. It was like a spark reignited and he all the sudden was interested in me.

He did go into depression because Monday he didn't go to work. We got into it. He threw me on the bedroom floor and I got up and went after him. In the middle of looking him on the eyes which he had this crazy look he kissed me. I was thinking there is something really wrong with him. His mom messaged him that Monday to see if he was working. She said that her and Leann talked and everything was good. She knew about his panic attack and that Leann wanted to try and talk to him again. His mom was trying to have a get together at Tuscarora. Dave came in while I was working to tell me about it. I told him I don't think it's a good idea. He won't be able to handle it. He finally said he wouldn't go. I don't know why but I pulled out the phone Dave got when he went back to Jess. I checked his messages and read them. I guess I wanted to see what the actual messages were. His sister Jess had a panic attack while at that meeting. Dave had to call and talk to her.

He went back to work but got sent home for another day. Again thankfully he didn't lose his job and his boss understands what he was going through. Yet I was still checking his messages. For some reason and I don't know why but I went on to Google and looked at his search history. There it was April 19th youporn and watching some skinny white girl masterbate. I was so upset. I picked him up from work. He could tell that I was upset. He asked me what was wrong. I pulled up the video and played it. I told him that I'm never going to be like that so if that's what he wants than go. He said no. I said you watched this a couple of days before Kaleb birthday while I was working. What is going on? He tells me that he is addicted to porn. I am stunned. I am thinking he is lying to me and I said no way because if you were you would be interested more in sex. I said I know perverts and guys into porn and you aren't like that. Then I pieced it together. The times I would want to fool around and he didn't, the oh I can't cum every time is because he masterbated earlier. I asked how long he told me years. He said he used porn when he stopped having sex with Dana because of her cheating. He said he struggles with sex because of his erectile disfunction, he has low self esteem plus he thinks he stinks. He told me at work he walked into the break room and heard the group of girls talking about how he smelled. I said that is because you don't shower daily. I never once told you that you stink. I said so this past year, I was working and you laid in my bed masterbating? He said yes. I asked where did you cum? He said anywhere. I was so hurt and upset. I told him that I tried to be with you and you basically rejected me. Than to find out that you were masterbating without me. I just couldn't believe it. It shows how stupid I really am.

[eeejay-blog1]

You ever feel like you’re the worst patient ever?

I’m this weird combination of “reads actual medical journals and comes at his docs with way more mumbo-jumbo than they expect from a slummy-looking 22-yr-old” and “will ignore his docs’ advice, skip his meds, bitch and moan about every side effect, and then complain about how nothing works”

Example: so a week from today, I have a followup with the urologist, physiatrist, and neurosurgeon. Now, the physi is probably gonna poke me with needles, test my reflexes, and ask me why I prefer to drag my dead foot around rather than wear an AFO. Not much to challenge there. The neuro is probably gonna look at some MRIs (which still confuses me, it seems like everyone else with TCS gets an MRI like six months after the detether but whatever), poke my back and make sure I’m not oozing cerebrospinal fluid, and so on. Again, not much to question there. I’ll probably just bitch at him about my meds for an hour.

But the urologist...fuck, man, I hate those guys. I especially hate the GP and Uro I first saw a couple years back, who hit me with all that first-line bullshit like “have you tried not drinking alcohol? cutting tomatoes out of your diet? not drinking so much water?” Like yes you clods, my auntie has interstitial cystitis so I know all the diet and lifestyle tricks, tried them, they didn’t work, that’s why I’m in your office. And I drink almost exactly 3 litres of water every day, any less than that and my piss is dark yellow all day, which I know for a fact is not healthy. I even brought two weeks’ worth of a voiding diary, without being asked, because I know that’s some shit they always ask you to do so they can rule out simply drinking too much water.

Then without bothering to do urodynamics or take an MRI, he put me on Detrol, which was four months of absolute hell for my brain and body. His mentality was like “oh it’s just overactive bladder, no big deal, just take these pills and you’ll be fine.” All it accomplished was taking me from pissing myself 4x a day to 2x a day, which really doesn’t change much as far as my lifestyle’s concerned. So once I got fed up, he agreed to do urodynamics, and literally THE WHOLE TIME I WAS NAGGING HIS EAR OFF like “you’re trying to find out how I normally piss? Well, my definition of a normal piss certainly ain’t one with two hoses in my dick and a balloon up my ass, so I’m not quite sure what you’re gonna find out” 

Same exact scenario when I got a different uro back at school. He was mentioning a lot of retention during urodynamics, which has never been an issue before, and no other test has found pre- or post-op, and I straight up told him “look, I can’t empty out all the way if I’m using a urinal in a crowded restroom. What makes you think I can empty all the way with you staring straight at it?”

And fun fact: I’ve only ever had a UTI twice in my life. Once after that first urodynamic study, and again after the second uro’s nurse tried teaching me to self-cath. Yet they claimed that I needed to self-cath, or else I’d be at risk of catching a UTI? That’s ass-backwards, and when I called up that uro to send my records to my current uro, I was literally growling through the phone to tell him how wrong he was.

My current uro seems nicer and more knowledgable, but I can already predict the conversation we’re gonna have:

“You shouldn’t be using pads so much, they’re bad for your skin” Okay dude I shower every day, use mad moisturizer and lotion, and there’s literally nothing else that works while I’m sleeping

“Your leakage doesn’t seem entirely volume-dependent, so you need meds to stop the detrusor spasms” Dawg we’ve already been down the med route, unless you wanna try me on one of those new ones that doesn’t have the same side effects of Detrol, I’mma throw them out as soon as you prescribe em.

“A catheter would be far easier to deal with” Uhh no. I psychologically cannot bring myself to self-cath, no matter the size or the lube it hurts every time. And if you’re putting a Foley in me, you better give me some strong ass sleeping pills too cause my body can’t just forget when that shit’s inside me.

“Well here’s a bunch of surgical options” and that’s when I’ll limp outta that office and probably never see another urologist again. Like come on homie, respect me respecting my body.

Even if I’m not the most difficult patient this guy’s ever seen, I’mma certainly be his biggest headache of the day. Plus I’ve passive-aggressively been keeping a voiding diary since the day I got discharged, and he’s sure as hell gonna raise his bushy ass eyebrows when he reads my weird formatting like “5:42 AM, woke up mid void (120ml) leaked more on the way to bathroom (70ml) gave up and flopped onto the couch to deal with that shit in the morning (50ml)”

[vaccinenumber9-blog]

My kidney and how it failed me

It was back in the summer last year I was having a happy long run along the Blackwater Valley Path. I was almost an hour in when I had the most horrific pain in my stomach. ‘Bleughhh’ I thought. Stopped. And threw up into the stream. I felt awful. I looked at my phone. I was 5 miles in but 3 from home. I knew I couldn’t run 3 miles feeling like I did. Sweat prickled my forehead and I began to shake. I sat down. The path was narrow. One side bordered by the stream, the other a high fence, the A323 the other side. I would have to carry on and at least get to my gym which I calculated was just a mile away. I could get a drink, go to the loo and call Pete for a lift. A mile equates to just 10 minutes of running. I could do it.

And I did.

I got the gym and was shaking terribly. I went to the loo and packing no punches here I weed pure blood. 'Shit’ I thought. I wasn’t surprised. It had happened once before and that time I was referred to a urologist Mr Barber. I had a whole load of tests which yielded nothing and was told in all likelihood I had foot strike haemolysis. This is when you burst so many red blood cells in the soles of your feet running you wee blood. It’s common after long runs. As long as it was the only incident and it returned to normal on the next wee I was told not to worry.

But it happened after every run. Yet by bed time all was ok. I was puzzled. I tried not running and it stopped. As soon as I ran a mile it was back. A friend told me to get some of the dip sticks we used as VNs to see if there was still microscopic blood when it looked clear. There wasn’t. It was literally only the wee after my run.

So I let it ride. Such a mistake. Crow had gone missing and I was more worried about him. I was spending a lot of time looking for him.

Over the next 6 weeks my running took a nose dive. I was slow, I was struggling by mile 5. I was sticking to one route I felt I could manage. But as long as I was doing my daily 10k I convinced myself I was ok. Pete joined me on one and remarked how quiet I was.

'I’m concentrating on getting half way so I can stop. I’m really struggling Pete’

'What’s making you stop?’ He asked

'I don’t know. It’s like utter exhaustion. Like someone is pulling me backwards’

I was getting back ache too, high up on my left hand side. I kept slapping on heat patches before I ran. I was getting dreadful stomach ache. 'Irritable bowel’ I told myself. One time I ran to the pharmacy and stuffed a load of semeticone in my mouth and carried on running.

I turned a blind eye to the fact I kept throwing up and felt sick. That I was falling asleep at 5pm for hours, that I kept waking up in the night confused and wandering about. During those episodes my whole body felt weird. Like my muscles were crawling.

I got worried as soon I was weeing blood continuously. I was exhausted. I went to my gp in the end and she reassured me nothing was found on all my scans but she’d refer me back to Barber. She put me on antibiotics, she said I had an infection. Nitrofuratoin. It was a disaster. By day 2 I had an allergic reaction. I’m already allergic to penicillin so I knew straight away. I stopped taking them and waited for my appointment. One evening Pete took me to an ooh GP. He read Barbers report, said nothing was wrong. I specifically asked him if my kidneys were ok. I showed him a pot of my wee. I said to him I was a VN, if a dog was pissing like that I’d put it on a drip. He laughed.

Little did I know but in 3 weeks I would be back in that room in kidney failure.

I went home. Over the next week protein showed up in my wee as well as blood, ketones, glucose, white blood cells. 'My kidneys are failing’ I said matter of fact to my husband. I still ran that day.

I went to see Barber. 'Ah! It’ll be your kidney stone!’ He said

'My what?’

'I’m sure I told you’

'You didnt’ I said, mixed emotions, relief it neatly explained everything and anger that had I known I would have arranged to see him weeks previously.

'It’s tiny’ he said. 'Just 2mm’ surprised you didn’t wee it out. 'We’ll scan you tomorrow’

Scan me he did. The next day I saw a friend, came home and felt a bit off. I started throwing up uncontrollably. The pain in my back was worse than labour pain. I became delirious. I thought Atticus was talking to me. He had, apparently, lost his hat in the garden. Had I seen it? It was a tartan golfing hat with a bobble on the top. Evie rubbed my back. Pete was worried sick. I said I was fine. I got it together and emailed Barber. A few hours later his secretary called. He had looked at my scan and I needed to go in immediately.

With that I kind of then realised it was serious and I had a tiny panic.

I went into his office and jokingly said 'you aren’t giving me bad news are you?’

He said he was. He said my stone was 12mm blocking my whole kidney, which was ulcerated and had failed. He needed to operate that night to put a stent in to save it. I giggled and said thank god I thought I was dying.

He got stern at that point and told me to stop it and listen up. He needed to ask a colleague how on Earth they were going to get it out. That if I liked it or not this was going to interrupt my life for a while.

'It can’t’ I said. I have to walk my dogs on Monday. I’m self employed.

He told me to go home back my bags and Jeanette his secretary would call me.

I tiptoed out. Thinking 'tits and arse’.

I was to go in the next morning at 8. I got up at 6 and ran 6 miles to prove I was just fine. My sister took me in.

So I have the luxury of private healthcare and I was shown to my room. I felt just fine. My sister and I giggling over some magazines and in walks Barber.

He looks at us puzzled for a minute as we say in unison 'we’re sister’

'You don’t say!’

'She’s the older sensible one’ I say

'Yes I don’t run’ my sister says.

We both giggle

He drew a big arrow on my left thigh explaining he wanted to get the right kidney. Which was the left one. As he departs my sister giggles 'for fuck sake Kate you could have warned me he was that gorgeous’

'I know it’s nothing short of disastrous really’

It wasn’t long before I get taken to theatre. And of course one minute I’m telling the anaesthetist where all my piercings are and the next I’m waking up pulling my own et tube out. Yick.

I get taken back to my sister. They give me a sandwich. I can’t leave til I’ve eaten it only the local anaesthetic they use in your throat means I can’t actually swallow. I tear it up a bit, move it around and declare I want to go home. Pete’s arrived with Evie, I know I feel awful but I’m not letting anyone know. I walk out. Trying to walk desperately. The pain in my kidney is like I have a knitting needle in my back. I’m going to be sick by the time I’m at the parking meter. I don’t want Evie to know. I focus on getting into the car, the front door, to my box of painkillers. I find codeine, paracetamol and ibuprofen I take them all and fight back the tears.

The next day I’m a mess. The pain is like labour pain, coming in waves and I can’t stop crying. I’m so confused. By 6pm Pete gets me to an emergency doctor. He propels me into the waiting room. I slide off the chair onto the floor. The receptionist helps pick me up, she’s lovely and I get laid down on a bed and all manner of pain killers injected. My body is rejecting the stent. The pain is over whelming. They keep me there a few hours and as the morphine kicks in I feel better. I need a cup of tea so they suggest I try going to the cafe. If I’m ok I can go home with pain relief.

I am absolutely off my trolley by now but pain free. Pete gets me tea and some biscuits. I find some funny books in the second hand book stall in the reception of the hospital.

I can do this’ I muse.

But I can’t. I get home. My friend Meg tells me I’m just following in the footsteps of my ancestor Samuel Pepys. I manage a giggle and read up all about it. It makes grim reading. He had his stone removed without anaesthesia. He was so pleased every year he threw it a party on Its removal anniversary, March 26th. My nephews birthday.

I feel sick reading it. They killed him in the end. His left kidney ulcerated and the stones adhered. A grim way to go.

At 6am I creep into the garden, hot and shaking I sit on the railway sleepers and silently cry. I can’t endure the week I need my kidney to drain and heal. My whole body feels in shock. I remember sitting there with Bean wrapped in an old cardigan holding him the day he died. At that thought I start crying and I can’t stop. I literally can’t control it. I go inside and tell Pete something is really wrong.

So he takes me to A&E. it’s from this point I can’t remember much. Just episodes of vomiting and sleeping. They sedated me and admitted me. I slept and vomited for a week. I forgot I had children. I had lucid moments. Anger at a nurse who was exasperated I wasn’t weeing and I kept telling her that was the problem I had kidney failure. Stupid woman. It was unfair of me. I recall Andy messaging me. He was in the Sun. Page 20 and not naked. Pete brought up a copy, it was all about how great he had done on his experimental chemo drug, he was cancer free. I remember smiling and then vomiting missing his picture by inches. I messaged him back saying I’d thrown up all over him. It was a comfort, if anyone knows how to survive a hospital situation it’s him and this was nothing compared to that.

I remember a guacamole sandwich that looked like poo. An older lady patient rubbing my back one night as I threw up hour after hour. My mouth was ulcerated by now and I was exhausted.

All I wanted at this point was for them to remove my kidney. I begged and pleaded. They were trying to get hold of Mr Bott who would eventually operate but he wasn’t about. I was kept on morphine, diclofenac, paracetamol, cyclazine, a host of other anti sickness stuff and a constant drip.

Eventually Pete emailed Mr Bott in desperation. The nurses were saying I needed to go home but I could barely cope on morphine so I was just stuck there.

Then on Friday evening a nurse handed me a phone and said 'it’s for you, it’s your consultant’

'How are you feeling!’ He bellowed down the line

'Like death. Please can you remove my kidney. I want to sell it on eBay’ I whisper

'I’m transferring you to my private suite, I’ll operate first thing’ he said.

I let out a strangled sob. Within minutes a porter arrived and wheeled me off. The nurse in the private wing was glorious. She cuddled me, ran me a hot bath, made me something to eat. Injected me with a whole load of stuff that felt great. I ate for the first time in a week. She put on the TV. She made me feel human.

The next day I had my op. It took ages. I didn’t recover well. They had trouble waking me up. I vaguely recall them trying and desperately wanting to sleep. I was so weak and exhausted it was hardly a surprise. I had been injected with heparin all week as well as the worry was that going from running 6 miles daily to this I’d get a deep vein thrombosis. My stomach was a mess of bruises. My piercings had all got infected, my mouth was so ulcerated. I felt like shit.

Mr Bott called Pete to tell him he had got it all out but he had to put in another stent as my kidney was a mess.

But the stone was out.

I decided to be brave and went for the option of stent removal without anaesthesia. I was worried I wouldn’t wake up at all third time round. He took it out the next day but warned me to stay a while as I’d get colic about 2 hours later. I did. I needed more morphine. Kidney colic isn’t nice.

Pete took me home after I had a bath. I made myself look as normal as I could. I looked scrawny and I felt awful. I put my boots on and walked out. They gave me a bag full of pain killers and a number to call in an emergency. Pete got me home. I curled up on the sofa and slept. 2 hours later I heard the gate go. I got up and opened the front door. Seth and Evie hurtled into my arms. They had been at my sisters and Pete had collected them and a Christmas tree. We spent that afternoon decorating it. Seth spent that day cuddling me.

Fast track a month later and I’m back having more scans (no more stones) and I’m told it was made of Uric Acid. I am Botts first ever case of a vegetarian with a stone made of animal protein. He suspects it’s a metabolic problem. Do I have gout? I tell him about my child hood arthritis how I still get flare ups in my big toe joints but I know how to deal with it. I just cut the sides of my running shoes open and run on the outside edges of my feet. He looks at me long and hard and silently.

I start talking 'my dad has gout, and he had a kidney stone’ I ramble. 'It’s all his fault!’

I tell him how my arthritis kind of went when I became a vegetarian. That my mum treated it gently, no steroids, no ops, lots of rest and heat. I did ok.

He tells me I need to drink more water, to modify my diet. Cut out as much purine as I can. If it’s metabolic he’ll put me on allopurinol.

As I scuttle out his room I text my dad and ask him if he’s still on meds for his gout and what is it called??

'Allopurinol’ he says.

Bloody Bunkers. It figures. His brother and sister had the same problems, trace it back through his mum and you land at Mr Pepys.

So here I am still having tests done but confidently knowing my dads ok and I will be too.

'It’s funny’ my mum says 'your dad was 45 too when he had all his problems with his stones and gout’

You can’t defy your genetic path it would seem. These things are written in, but I’m in good company at least. As my dad slops in his slippers (drives my mum mad) towards 80 he’s in fine fettle. He moans about his feet as much as I do, but he still has all his teeth, selective hearing and all his beautiful snow white hair.