Why Does My Bladder Hate Me So?

 

Remember I tell you this,

“I do not feel 68 years old, nor do I feel like I am.”

“Growing old sucks!“

Aging may be a natural part of life but no one or thing dictates that we have to like it.

I am certainly living with that “anger“ that accompanies aging.

As we mature our bodies rebel against the natural occurring degradation of aging.

If I had been prewarned that our actions of yesterday were to be solely responsible for the accumulation of tomorrow’s chronic fatigue and pains, I would have been more gentle to my body these past 68 years.

I would not have put myself in the position of requiring multiple trips to the Emergency Department of my local hospital.

One would think that instead of a geriatric rebellion our bodies would have met us halfway and done it’s best to adapt to the adaptation of adapting to the maladies of aging.

Unfortunately that is not the case.

In my case it lied to me.

That dishonesty manifesting in the form of unusual aches, pains and strains.

The 26 distinct bones in my vertebral column transformed into 26 individual gremlins of agony.

Each morning they randomly determine where they will be wreaking their havoc.

Deciding whether they will work in unison or in 26 individual entities of discomfort.

The “individual” choice being the worst of the two.

I have to remind myself that the “snap, crackle and pop” I am hearing is not coming from my bowl of ‘Rice Krispies‘. Rather it is the morning song of my various joints reminding me that I am now an old man.

Yes, aging is as annoying as a drunken Uncle singing the same song all night long. You want to harm him but societal constraints do not allow you such a privilege.

There are things far worse than aches, pains and forgetful brains.

One of those things is as relentless as relentless can be.

(This I know from personal experience.)

There is a porcelain appliance in your home that as you mature will steal more and more of your precious time.

An object that we all are thankful you have.

That is until you put the “Senior” into “seniority”.

In the coming days you will find it has become the most used appliance you have ever owned.

The two of you will grow so close that soon it will feel like an unwanted extra body appendage.

I speaking about your “toilet bowl”.

“Seriously, no crap!”

“Why?” you ask.

The answer to that question is “Gravity”.

The rock band “Max Webster” has a song whose chorus goes as follows,

“Forget that fear of gravity, gravity”

Listen to this great tune as much as you want but do not forget your fear of gravity.

Now that you have crossed the bridges of youth and are standing on the pathway of “Old Age”, trust me, you shall begin to fear gravity.

As we age gravity starts tugging and pulling on every part of our bodies.

Our foreheads wrinkle, backs curve, ankles swell, testicles drop, breasts droop, we lose height and we develop the dreaded middle aged “panniculus”.

Otherwise referred to as a “sagging stomach”.

“What does my toilet have to do with my middle aged potbelly?”

MY “BLADDER”!

I truly believe that my bladder absolutely, beyond all doubt, HATES me!

SERIOUSLY, IT HATES ME TO NO END!!!

It is certainly holding me hostage.

Often throughout the day and night will torture me.

If I hear running water I, too, must “run” – directly to the nearest toilet!

If I simply “stand up”, I have mere seconds to get to the nearest bathroom!

Quick temperature changes also demand I vacate my bladder.

If I drink a cup of coffee or a glass of water then somehow my bladder magically turns that cup or glassful into one Imperial gallon of urine.

“No lie!”

“A gallon!!!”

I fear going outside now.

I fear visiting my family or friends.

“WHY?”

Because my bladder seeks revenge.

I swear my bladder is holding me hostage.

“No lie”

The worst incidence of all begins in my buildings hall. For when I arrive at my building and enter the elevator.

As soon as that door slides closed the urgent need “to go” unfolds.

It is not uncommon to witness me doing a mad dash from the elevator to my door.

If I take too long unlocking my door then it is quite possible my urine shall flow.

Winter’s chilly air has made it quite unfair.

Going outside I can no longer dare.

There’s something I really wish to know,

“WHY DOES MY BLADDER HATE SO?”