Up until just barely (bless new meds), I have been in the worst flare of my life. Since this is my journal, I figured I should remember what it was like - just in case I'm ever tempted to stop taking the medication.
It's 3 am and I awaken to find myself crying. I realize the Tylenol PM only got me 3 hours of sleep and were they real? I roll over to try to move my shaking legs off the bed to get to the bathroom. My bladder is in spasm and I know that I've got to get there quickly. I stand up only to collapse right back to the floor as my head spins from the onslaught of pain. I crawl to the couch at the foot of my bed, and use my arms to slowly hoist myself back to standing. I make my way to the bathroom always gripping the wall, the chair, the towel rod. I fall to my knees and vomit into the toilet. The shaking and pain were just too much for my weak stomach. Finally I sit down. I feel like a small child about to have an accident, but I just can't get things flowing. I'm cramping; I'm crying; I'm pushing; I'm failing at relaxing for 10 minutes. Eventually fire - stinging, burning liquid - comes out in tiny drops. 20 minutes later I feel done and stumble back to bed. I'm sweating, shaking, but relieved.
I can't get comfortable. I still feel like I'm going to have an accident. I know I won't, but my body is telling me differently. Time to ignore: ignore the urgency, ignore the shaking stomach, ignore my nerves that are firing in my legs that are telling me to get up and RUN to the bathroom. I turn on a cooking show and the heating pad. 4:30 am and I'm finally asleep.
It's 5:15 and the need to urinate awakens me again. This time I successfully stumble to a sitting position in the bathroom. This time it only takes me 15 minutes of torture until I'm back in bed. I'm back awake at 6:45 and I turn off the alarm to awaken Laura at 7:00 for school and head back to the bathroom, but this time I turn on the light. The bowl is pink with blood. I take note of the time and begin my day.
Yes, it's going to be a timing day. I decide on 45 minutes. I only allow myself to go to the bathroom once every 45 minutes. (Just the right amount of time to succeed more quickly without being in too much pain and not so often that my whole day isn't spent there.) The moment I stand up from finishing my body screams that I need to run back. My brain knows differently, so I'll time it. I'm distracted and not as patient or productive as I would like to be throughout the day, but I survive until carpool.
One of the kids is late. I've been in the car almost an hour by the time we get back and I'm crazy. After pulling into the garage I gingerly walk the extra feet to my bedroom bathroom because I don't want the kids to worry. I kneel before I sit. I cry while I sit. I don't want to, but I can't stop. Then the timing begins again.
I am exhausted and climb into bed at 10. By 10:15 I haven't fallen asleep, so I figure I might as well go just once more so I hopefully can sleep a little longer before the sensation of urgency awakens me again. My legs are shaking from nerves raw from the pain. My bladder is spasming so much that Jason can feel it through my stomach. At 10:35 I go to the bathroom again. After an 11:05 trip to the bathroom I take a sleeping pill. One more trip at 11:40. Maybe I'll get more than 3 hours tonight....