Cipro. I’m taking it.
Anthrax protection courtesy of my favorite hero, Super T.
I was still high from the interview last Thursday and Tiff had invited us out, remember? Ended up coupled off at the pizza joint. Beer and pizza in our bellies. Glowing and happy were we.
Super T. lives four blocks from the pizza joint. He asked me if I wanted to see his place. Meet his dog.
We both knew exactly where this was going.
Walked inside. Said hello to his roommate. Patted the dog’s head a couple times. Practically ran up the stairs to his bedroom.
Did it. Did it. Did it. Did it. Did I say did it? And I do mean did it.
Until it was time for him to get up and go to work. I finally pulled myself from the rumpled sheets.
He dropped me off in the parking lot where I’d left my car the night before. Kissed me with passion. I was dumbfounded and exhausted.
He called my mobile phone later that afternoon while I was tromping through the flea market junk with my folks. Can only get a signal out there if you stand a certain way and face due north-northwest or something. Finally picked up his I-am-speechless-and-I-can’t-wait-to-see-you-again message.
My heart melted. But, unbeknownst to me at the time, something else was festering inside.
It started with just a twinge on Saturday, but became severe by Saturday afternoon. Aaah. Nice little urinary tract infection brewing. By Saturday night I was feverish and practically in tears. I was literally pacing the floor holding my crotch and moaning. How the hell was I going to go on a DATE with Super T. that night??
Top the whole situation off with my apartment building’s decision to go haywire. ALL of our pipes were clogged, and the plumber was running from apartment to apartment telling us not to flush ANYTHING!
It was all I could do to get to the pharmacy, and after frantically searching aisle after aisle, I found the box that said “UTI Relief”. Grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice and dashed home to pop some pills and chase ’em with juice.
Super T. called and I shyly informed him of my state. I told him that I stupidly neglected to pee…at all…in between our, uh, sessions. And that I was certainly paying for it. He said he’d come over and watch a movie or something with me if I wasn’t feeling good. Well then, I had to inform him of the fact that we couldn’t use the bathroom or the kitchen sink for that matter.
I went back to his place. He nursed me back to health by making sure I was filling myself full of water and juice and peeing every five minutes. Eventually, I was smiling and cooing and kissing his luscious lips. I was better.
Or so I thought.
Last night, I ran out of UTI Relief. And turned right back into that sobbing, crotch-grabbing, fire-pissing monster again. I knew that there was no way I was going to make it through the night. I got myself as put together as best a girl can when fireworks are going off in her nether regions and made it to the only open grocery/pharmacy in my area with a couple of minutes to spare.
More cran-juice and something called Uristat this time. I think it’s exactly the same thing. I would have tried Uri-anything just to make it through the night.
Somehow managed a couple of hours of nightmare-riddled sleep. Woke bleary-eyed. Seeing red.
The three hours I sat in the waiting room at the doctor’s office this morning literally pissing and moaning were excruciating. I kept telling them that it was an emergency! Why wouldn’t anyone HELP ME??!!
Finally. FINALLY!! The doctor would see me. It was all I could do to hold out a shaky hand when she handed me the prescription: Cipro. With one refill.
I swear. I will NEVER EVER have sex again and then loll about and bask in the glow WITHOUT getting up first and taking a dainty little tinkle. EVER. EVER AGAIN!!
The only time I should ever expect to get that prescription refilled is if I receive some kind of mysterious powdery letter in the mail. Seriously!
Lesson learned.
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