It all started with a cold. I had a cold, there was no doubt about
it - watery, itchy eyes, stuffy nose, coughing, achy head.
I hadn't slept well in days as a result of this cold, I was starting to get very
annoyed. I was still in school at USF and, in order to not drive my
roommate completely nuts, I decided to go home for the weekend to visit
my grandmother. I figured I'd lock myself in my bedroom there and come
out recouped on Monday morning.
Well, it was Saturday night and I still felt like hell. To make things
worse, I couldn't get to sleep, it was 1:30 am, and I was at the end of
my rope as far as patience. I went out to the bathroom and took some
Comtrex. The directions on the box say to take two, but I knew that was
for people with a minor cold, I had a bad one... I took four. An hour
later and the stuff hadn't kicked in.
My grandmother had bronchitis a few months before and had some prescription stuff that could knock out
an elephant. Mind you, I didn't care if I drowned in my own phlegm, I
just wanted to get to sleep. A little while later and I still couldn't
get to sleep - so I took some Alka-Seltzer Cough and Cold medication and
another Comtrex... plus a glass of wine. Several minutes later, I was
sleeping like a baby. In fact, I slept all through Sunday... like a
Monday morning came and I slowly got out of bed and drove up to Tampa.
I didn't have to pee that morning which seemed unusual, but my mouth was
pretty dry so the medication must have done something. Later in the
day, I still hadn't taken a leak. I thought it was kind of strange so I
went to the bathroom and tried. It felt like it was coming but stopped
at the end - if you know what I mean. I tried not to think about it and
decided I'd try later. Later came and went and I still couldn't go,
only now I really felt like I had to.
That night, I'm sitting on my lofted bed when my roommate Joe (a great
big Italian guy) looks at me and asks what's wrong. "I can't pee."
"What?" he says. "I can't pee." "Why can't you pee?" I can't answer
this, I tell him that I've tried but it's no use... my peeing days are
over. Joe tells me to call "Ask A Nurse" at the local hospital and ask
if this is a problem.
I ask a nurse, and she asks how long it's been.
Apparently, 48 hours is a long time not to void your bladder, which
could result in it bursting, which could become a big problem. "Joe,
I'm going to the hospital," I say. "Cool, I'll go with you. I've gotta
experience this first-hand."
So, Joe and I get to the hospital emergency room and check in. The
woman at the counter asks me what the problem is. I tell her that I
can't pee. "You can't pee?" "I can't pee." "Why can't you pee?"
"Good question, I'd like to know myself."
They shove me into a little room by myself and a big guy with a tattoo
of a Hawaiian hula dancer on his forearm tells me to get into a little
paper dress. I'm not too happy about this, but I comply. Then, he pulls
up my dress exposing the peepster. He drapes this napkin with a hole in
it over Willy and I notice that Willy isn't covered. "Um, it's still
sticking out." He tells me that the doctor has to take a look at it.
The doctor comes in and takes a look. "Looks normal, kind of small,
though." The reason was because it happened to be cold in that room and
two guys had just grabbed my hankey...THAT'S WHY IT WAS SMALL!!!!!
(No Actual Penises Were Harmed)
The doctor asks me if I would consider myself tough. I don't like the
sound of this. "Do you mean that you want to know if I have a high pain
threshold? Since you have to ask, I'll say 'NO!'" He asks me if I've
ever heard of a 'catheter.' I have, and I REALLY don't like the sound of
Anyway, the guy pulls out this tube, it's about six inches in
circumference and twenty-two feet long. He tells me that he's going to
give me a shot to numb my member. "Where, exactly, are you giving me
this shot?" You guessed it! Right down the ol' urethra!
I thought this hurt. This didn't hurt, it was just a prelude. He then
shoves this tube down the throat of the ol' boy and I shudder with pain.
Agony, that's a better word. About twelve gallons drain into this bag.
He pulls the tube out and hooks me up to an I.V. I'm told to pee on my
own, or else! "Or else, what?" "Or else we put the tube back in and
keep you overnight." There was no way in hell they were putting that
tube back in.
I go through three I.V. bags laying in a hospital bed
(now I'm out in the hall with a curtain around me). They give me a
giant Kool-Aid container I'm supposed to fill. By now, Joe is standing
by my bed. Finally, nature calls, only I can't drain it. I ask Joe to
ask if I can stand up - to let gravity assist - they say "Sure, men's room
is down the hall."
I walk down the hall (Joe holding the I.V. bag over my head) and I stand
in the restroom with the door opened a crack for the intravenous tube.
I stand there, pray like I've never prayed before... it all starts with
a trickle - then a rush like goddamned Niagara Falls. "YYYYES!!!" I
scream. Joe has tears in his eyes, "I'm so happy for you, man!"
In the end, they released me, and told me that if the box says to take
two tablets, just take two tablets. It seems that antihistamines build
up in your system (I'd been taking them for days). Now, if I have a
cold, I just suffer.