Bladderisms.
It wasn't too long ago - I'm thinking, about four or five months - that Bernadette warned me of the pangs of badbladderitis, or otherwise known as gottopeealotta. It's currently something that doesn't have a cure, only prevention - in the form of Tena Lady and a catheter. Today on my way to Vet Nursing, I picked up two iced coffee's - harking back to the days where my car was littered with iced coffee cartons, some dating back a year ago - and drank both in the car. Flash forward forty five minutes and my bladder was screaming at me.
Flash forward another two hours after relieving myself and my bladder started screaming at me again. This time I responded, hey! I haven't even drunk anything yet! How can you need to go again? What have I done wrong to deserve this?
So, I relieved myself. Flash forward another two hours. Still not having drunk anything, my bladder exclaims, excuse me, please, may I be excused?
I excuse it.
Scratch my head.
A few hours after that I leave, I arrive home. Still no additional drinks, just food. I sit down after changing the cat water, putting biscuits out for her, and I think, time to relax for a second. Then it screams, you aint fuckin' doin' that buddy! And off it goes again.
Why didn't I fully listen to Bernadette's warnings before and ask for it to be surgically removed before all this trouble started? Why? Why have bladders in the first place?
Who knows. That, for me, is a greater mystery than what is the meaning of life or which road did Tom Hanks take at the end of Cast Away.
Flash forward another two hours after relieving myself and my bladder started screaming at me again. This time I responded, hey! I haven't even drunk anything yet! How can you need to go again? What have I done wrong to deserve this?
So, I relieved myself. Flash forward another two hours. Still not having drunk anything, my bladder exclaims, excuse me, please, may I be excused?
I excuse it.
Scratch my head.
A few hours after that I leave, I arrive home. Still no additional drinks, just food. I sit down after changing the cat water, putting biscuits out for her, and I think, time to relax for a second. Then it screams, you aint fuckin' doin' that buddy! And off it goes again.
Why didn't I fully listen to Bernadette's warnings before and ask for it to be surgically removed before all this trouble started? Why? Why have bladders in the first place?
Who knows. That, for me, is a greater mystery than what is the meaning of life or which road did Tom Hanks take at the end of Cast Away.