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insomnia, mommy sex and the man cold, man cold, feminine hygiene, U.T.I, motherhood, dad cold

Definitive Proof that Too Much Sex is Unhealthy

by Deborah Cruz

Oh you read that title right? And I’m the barely living proof. In case you’ve been wondering where the hell I’ve been all week, I got taken out of the game by a U.T.I. Yep, I said it. No alibi just a damn U.T.I. I’m feeling like I’m upside down in the middle of nowhere. As if having stress incontinence and mommy brain were not embarrassing enough.

This past weekend I was feeling out of sorts, okay, bat shit crazy is more appropriate. What started out as a low blood sugar spell, as my mamma would call it, turned into something else. I ate something but nothing seemed to work. I just couldn’t shake that lightheaded feeling.

I took a shower, laid down and prayed that it would pass. It didn’t. Of course, I’m going through WebMd assuming the worst. It had to be a tumor or maybe brain cancer. Maybe I’m about to go into a diabetic coma (no I’m not diabetic) or maybe my blood pressure was going to make me have a stroke. Fuck, I don’t want to have a stroke. Or maybe the stress of my children is finally going to give me Bells Palsy. It’s not funny. I think about this sort of shit and then I freak out because my smile is already crooked and I just don’t think I can pull off the droopy face look. Some people can, just like some people look good bald. I am barely passing as human on a good day.

The next thing I knew, all the blood is rushing from my head and the only thing I can hear was the sound of my own blood coursing through my veins. The room was getting foggy and I was freaking out because I knew it was going to happen next. I was going to pass out.

I screamed for the Big Guy and when he came upstairs, he saw that I was as white as a ghost and, through my head spinning fog, I told him that we needed to go to the hospital, the vets or whatever the closest place was where a person trained in medicine, of any kind, could make me feel “normal”. Not your typical Sunday night. Well, maybe it is for us. Over the course of this past year, it seems like everything that ever happens bad to us happens on Sunday. Remember the ER visit on Easter Sunday thanks to the gall bladder from hell. It’s our only free day of the week. I think just the fact that my body gets to rest, it goes into shock and likes to cause some good old fashioned drama.

I went to the doctor expecting to be told that I had high blood pressure or high sugar, high something. I’m a middle-aged mom who never makes time for herself. What the hell else would I expect? Of course my body is going to mutiny at some point. But that wasn’t the case.

Turned out that I had a blockage in my ear, that needed to be removed. That was disgusting. If you’ve ever had one, then you know I’m talking about and if you haven’t count yourself lucky. While I was being poked and prodded at every end, they also found out that I have a UTI. A fucking U.T.I at my age!

I’ve never had a U.T.I before.

Somehow I made all through college and all that sex and never had a U.T.I but here I am a week before my 44th birthday, monogamous for nearly 2 decades, with my first U.T.I like some coed gone wild. That’ll teach me to have sex three times in one week.

Apparently due to the infection, I was experiencing some lightheadedness. I didn’t even know that was possible. Who knew that your urethra wielded such dizzying power over your mental well-being? Just in case the finicky urethra was not the culprit, my Eustachian tube had to be excavated and all wax removed, by force if necessary.

It all sounded terrible, what I could hear of it. Apparently, between the swooshing of my blood in my head and my blocked ear, I wasn’t hearing as well as I should’ve been. The thing is when your urethra is hijacking your health, your ear is being power washed from the inside out and, just to keep things interesting, your vagina and all of her reproductive friends are trying to kill you by slow and heavy internal bleeding, you just don’t give a fuck whether or not they beat on your ear drum with a miniature fire hose. You just make a bunch of ugly faces, while your kids watch because it’s Sunday and you have no babysitter, and you deal with it. That’s being a grown up and it sucks.

All ready long story short, sometimes weird shit happens on Sunday afternoon and you just have to put on your big girl panties (and a bra if you’re going into public) and hit up the local hospital where they know your name and pay a ridiculous amount of money because being able to function without falling over or passing out, is pretty important when you’re a mom. I mean how am I supposed to drive everyone everywhere if I’m randomly passing out all over the place? How is my husband supposed to be gone at a conference all week if I’m running a fever and passing out?

Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just take 10 days’ worth of these horse pill antibiotics (maybe he did take me to the vets after all) and 10 days straight of antihistamine and wait for the impending yeast infection that will surely follow while you all just go on about your lives. By all means family, don’t let my illness encroach on your plans…. mother fuckers. (I feel like I should add a Mother Fucker there for some reason).

Anyways, I’m not passing out but I’m now feeling crazy from the steady Benadryl drip I’m on. But it’s all good. Nobody be alarmed. I took the kids to all their extracurricular activities this week. The Big Guy didn’t miss any of his conference social events and I even managed to attend a Middle school football game (because my daughter cheered) and a mandatory school board meeting. I’m not bragging or anything but did I mention that I cooked dinner every damn day this week? Don’t be jealous, ladies! Not bad for a half dead woman who can’t hear and has issues with her lady bits. Of course, my house looks like a pig sty had a baby with a tornado.

This Sunday is my birthday. The girls are going to grandma’s house tonight and all I want to do is sleep for the next 48-hours. But that probably won’t happen because…well, I’m a mom and a wife and when the people I love need me, I can’t say no. We have tickets to a Purdue game and my parents are coming to visit and…I just need a nap. Can I just be the flake this weekend? Why couldn’t I have simply contracted a man cold? With a man cold, all expectations would have disappeared but not with a U.T.I. I caught the wrong thing from my husband.

Have you ever suffered from a U.T.I ?

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Mommy Sex and the Man Cold a Tale as Old as Time - The TRUTH About Motherhood 2018/03/09 - 11:31 pm

[…] to your husband being sick. Girl, if you back that truck up and let him cough on you…hey, sex at your own risk; proceed with […]


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