I HATE Getting Sick, and It’s Even Harder Now That I’m Old!

I am sitting in my den with my feet on an ottoman feeling miserable.  When I was a little over two, I had my first bladder infection, and have suffered from them periodically ever since.  A few years ago I got another, but it didn’t seem to go away.  Eventually I succumbed, and made an appointment with a urologist.  Needless to say, I despise the breed since my interactions with them have usually been less than pleasant.  The local specialist in town is great, and I don’t say this lightly.  Kind and compassionate, he explained that my  bladder had become inflamed because I had suffered from so many infections, gave me an endless list of the foods I should avoid to help my bladder heal, and sent me on my way without doing an invasive procedure.  He trusted that I knew my own body: how amazing!  That inflammation lasted for months, and I mean months.  By the end of that horrible time  I would lie on my couch with my legs curled, not wanting to do anything or go anyplace. What’d odd this time out is that I don’t have an infection, but last month when I was visiting my daughters in Bend, Oregon, where they both now live, they suggested the three of us go to a local bar for a drink and time together without distractions.   I had several martini’s, ordering a second and third as they did.  This is very unusual for me; I don’t drink much.  All week I also had coffee every morning, giving it nary a thought.  I usually drink decaf.  By the time I left, my bladder felt strange.  My younger daughter suggested I might have done this to myself: booze and caffein are notoriously hard on the bladder.  Oops.  Sure enough, my bladder is again inflamed.  Never before have I gotten this damned and dreaded condition without first having a urinary tract infection.  Great!  A new ‘condition’ that I will have to pay attention to because of my age.  I made roast chicken last night, and sprinkled paprika on it, though I am being careful (paprika was not listed on the doc’s list as dangerous).   I thought I would die during the night.  Duh!  Of course paprika is spice-y, as spices go, and I shouldn’t have used any let alone the amount I did.  I feel sorry for myself, angry, distressed–and I know that what I’m suffering from will go away.  It is not life threatening.  My friend who died a few weeks ago did so with grace and dignity.  What will I do if I do come down with something that is life-threatening?  How will I cope? My legs are up, my bum is on a soft couch, and I sit here typing. This is how I decided to ‘cope’ today.  I guess that’s my answer.  I will cope one day at a time, one problem at a time, grateful that I rarely get sick.  This is my one body ‘weak’ spot; thank God I only have one!  The rest of the day I will coddle myself, though not with food because there’s lots I shouldn’t eat, and lie around,  read and watch Netflix. For the next weeks or months, as long as it takes, I will eat boring, bland food and I will heal.  As for the inevitable, I will have to trust I will deal with it the best way I can.  My friend will be my beacon, and my own stamina and grit will  have to guide me. Loving friends, kids,  grandkids and a fantastic partner will help, as well as the knowledge that I have fully lived my life and faced its challenges as they came. In the end, what else is there?