No more Mrs. Nice Girl!

I have a serious problem… I’m cheerful. I know that traditionally isn’t a problem and is actually a desirable quality. Most of the time being a generally happy person is one of the very best things about me but sometimes it becomes one of my least favorite things about myself.

Picture this… You’re a doctor and there’s a young woman who is laying on a gurney in your emergency room  or sitting on the exam table in your office. She is telling you that she has a very dysfunctional bladder, debilitating symptoms, and staggering pain yet she’s friendlier than most waitresses. She’s smiling, laughing, making jokes, chatting with the nurses and assistance like they’re long lost friends, and even apologizing when she inconveniences any of you.

Confusing huh? Well that’s me 90% of the time. I swear to you on a gallon of ice cream that the pain and symptoms are as bad as I claim yet I can’t turn my dang nice sprinkler off. It’s just on a certain setting and no matter the circumstances it can’t be shut off.

So the perplexed doctors don’t know what to do with me. One was convinced I was bipolar and needed intensive therapy because no one could be this cheerful with all the horrors I go through. Some doctors appreciate it and tell me how well I’m handling the situation. But unfortunately the most common reaction is disbelief. 

Apparently they either think my auto-kind is phony or that I must be lying about the extremeness of my IC because surely no one could possibly have constant pain, retention, incontinence, ect, ect and still be pleasant and smile.

It’s a serious conundrum. I have gone to appointments with new doctors and tried my hardest to be… I don’t even know the word? I try to just be honest and straight forward but fight my friendly instinct. By the time I’m done the kindness practically bursts out of me and I have to immediately call a complaint line and give them several compliments to make for 10 minutes of kindness suppression. 

I swear I’m not any one special, I’m not this amazing person or anything… I don’t take any credit for it at all… I’m just nice. It’s just one of my traits... I have brown hair, hazel eyes and I’m nice. I’m sure it’s genetic… I’m come from a long line of painfully friendly people.

Now after all that’s said let me be clear about something… Just because I’m cheerful, kind, nice, or whatever you want to call it does NOT mean that I handle this whole miserable thing super well. 

I unintentionally fool people by this regularly. My friends and family are constantly saying things like “you’re so brave!” and  “how do you stay so positive?”. They’re wrong. I’m just cheerful which covers up fear and negativity. In fact I think my good mood is a comfort blanket to me, if people (including myself) are laughing and smiling then everything is fine.

Or maybe I’m not really that nice... Maybe I’m just always slightly high from pain meds.

Either way… My general good attitude can be very deceiving and makes people not take me very seriously.

I have dozens of stories to prove this point but something unusual happened yesterday... 

Lately I have been having a lot of pain and irritation around the site that my suprapubic catheter comes out of and finally on Sunday I couldn’t take it for another waking moment! So I called the doctor on call to find out if there is any ointment or anything I could put on the area but she started asking me questions and before I knew it she was telling me I needed to go directly to the emergency room because it could be “cellulitis” (an infection of the fleshy stuff (cellulite) between by bladder and skin). 

My dear husband, Zach had just gotten home from a weekend away with his buddies, it was a gorgeous day outside and my rambunctious 2 ½ year old, Titus, was finally down for a nap (after a week of missing naps because he lost his beloved goody (pacifier) so we decided to use it as the chance to wean him off of it...) so I really didn’t want to go. No one ever wants to go to the ER but I especially didn’t want to go yesterday… But we went even though I wasn't happy about it so believe it or not... I wasn't Mrs. Sunshine Rainbow. 

Four hours later I was being discharged and I was nothing but worse than when we got there. Not only was I not my usual cheerful and sweet self anymore... I was really angry. 

First we had to wait FOREVER just to get into a room, see a nurse and then some barrel of a doctor came in and pushed SO hard all around my site to see if any discharge would come out then they left me there in tears and angry for what seemed liked centuries without any pain meds then schlepped me off to a useless ct scan and then the doctor prescribed me a pain medication and an antibiotic (even though he had no proof of infection) both of which that I was allergic to. 

I had been teary off and on during this whole time at the hospital but for whatever reason as my husband pushed me in the wheelchair out of the hospital in worse shape than I was when I went in, I lost it. 

I couldn't stop crying and proclaiming that I was going to throat punch several particular people. I even tossed in a few cuss words… Which is the equivalent of a sailor using his manners, I never swear! I usually blush and cower when I hear the worst of them.

When I got home I went in through the front door (which is typically reserved for delivery men and special guests) so that I could go directly up the stairs without having to cheerfully speak to anyone. I was so focused on allowing myself to not be nice for once in my life that I got all tangled in my catheter tube and stepped on it while walking up the stairs.

(Let’s have a moment of silence for that devastation….)

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I fell onto the stair into a ball of agony. The steps were getting soaked with a mixture of tears and drool. I couldn’t speak. Sounds were coming out of me that only wild cats would understand. I don’t know how long I laid there, curled up against the pain, moaning and dripping but it seemed like forever. 

My husband hurried my son off so that he wouldn't have to witness his Mother’s transformation into a werewolf because as far as he knew that was surely the only thing that could explain my actions.

Fortunately my Mom saw what happened and sat there with me. I think she was talking to me or maybe she was praying but I have no idea what she was saying. I was in a pain induced trance. I think I could have passed out if I let myself. 

I think I can comfortably (irony) say it was the worst pain I have ever felt. 

Eventually I caught my breath and the noises stopped, all I wanted was to be in my bed. So bent over and holding my catheter and bag high I dragged myself, with my Mom’s help, up the stairs and to my bed. I didn’t care that my pants fell off along the way or about the amount of fluid coming out of my facial orifices.

I took dilaudid, cleaned up my oozing, bleeding catheter site and got in bed and just laid there for a minute. Or maybe it was an hour I can’t remember.

The pain eventually got tolerable, I was able to eat a bowl of cereal, take the rest of my meds, and watch some TV with my husband. 

I wasn’t nice yesterday or today really… I’m mad. I am done with doctors not paying attention to me and thinking I’m wrong when I try to tell them I know a little bit about my own body. I am done with people thinking I’m a whiner and lazy. I am done trying to stay positive so that everyone around me feels good about things. I am done being the one that has to make huge, life altering decisions. I am done waiting for the next thing, good or bad. I am done missing out on life because I’m in too much pain or at the hospital. I am done apologizing when I pester my doctor’s office when I don’t hear back from them hours or days after they promised I would.

In other words… No more Mrs. Nice Girl.

Alright fine... Dear readers, you know me so well. I couldn't make it through another paragraph trying to pretend I was going to suddenly be this no nonsense toughie... I’m still going to be nice. It can’t be helped! Plus I really think being angry and mean just made the whole mess ,that was yesterday, even worse. Just like the last time I tried to be “tough” and not my submissive “kind” self. About two months ago I called my doctor’s office 3 times in one day because they told me they would do something immediately and hours later they still hadn’t. Later that day my doctor herself told me I have to “calm down” and not “take things out” on her staff.

I don’t want to be rude, impatient, uncooperative, mean, or any other ghastly thing that I would never pull off. I want to be nice, friendly, kind, joking, and happy… Even when my body isn’t.

So I’ll continue to be nice and hope that the old saying “nice guys finish last” isn’t as accurate as it seems to be. I will call my doctor then be patient and hope that they do things when they say they will. I will hope that they won’t accidentally give me a drug I’m allergic to... Or even forget about me all together.

Humph… What a depressing blog this turned out to be. I’m so sorry I wasted your time! Let me buy you a coffee or a cupcake. 

See what I’m saying? Can't be helped... 

(P.S. I really think the problem is that I’m reacting to the actual latex catheter tube. I called to see if I could get my tube replaced sooner than 2 weeks from now.  I'm waiting to hear back. Also the scheduler called me to schedule the BIG surgery but my surgeon is booked all the way out to JULY for Pete’s sake. She told me she’d talk to the doctor and see if he could squeeze me in sooner but I haven’t heard back from her either. Surprisingly my gentle reminders have not produced a thing... Confusing, I’ll update as I can!)

My son, Titus being as patient to get his play dough as Mommy is to have surgery!