It’s not what you think, you dirty-minded readers!

So as many of you know, I’m a cancer survivor, 13 years out from anal cancer. And here I am. I got ass cancer because I was married to an asshole. That’s the story, and I’m sticking to it.

So, as the years have gone on, as many cancer survivors know, if they had radiation, they have or will realize it’s the gift that keeps on giving. They call it long time survivor’s side effects…  Surviving the treatment can be in some cases, the hardest part of the whole damn thing, sitting in front of a nurse who gowns, gloves, masks, and wears eye goggles, starting chemo. But you see in her eyes, it’s poison, and it’s going inside you deliberately, and she thinks I don’t want any on me. It might cause me cancer.

Then the radiation.

It starts out painless. It doesn’t hurt. You don’t feel the zapping, you don’t see the laser. You feel the after effects days or weeks later as the tissue slowly dies, peels, and then you wake up and have 3^rd degree burns on parts of your body that should never be exposed to the world, never mind the area they target.

I got radiation to the butt. On its way to the anus, it hit other things: the lower bowel, the bladder, the vagina, the ovaries; they were all in the way ….. oh well, collateral damage, they say.

I knew all that at the time.

But, frying my skin and groin worked. The bastard cells all died in Hell. But the ex didn’t. Damn it.

13 years later, I remain cancer-free, with grill marks and 3 tattoo runway dots.

But the last few years, things have changed; My bladder hates me. My vagina has told me to Fuc off, ain’t nothing fitting in here anymore, and according to my last colonoscopy, my colon is now twisted with radiation damage. Can’t you just untwist I said to the doctor, since she was up there anyway. She just looked at me with a flat emotionless expression and said invest in a high fiber diet to avoid a blockage.

Sucks to be me.

So, after all these years out, my bladder no longer talks to me. Normally, a bladder says, “Hey, I’m almost full.” Get to a bathroom. But there is some time, like when your gas gauge shows empty, but really you have 10 miles to go. My bladder doesn’t subscribe to giving warnings. It fills like it’s a kid drinking a 30-oz supersize slurpy. Then the kid get so full that he has to vomit. 

My bladder tells me nothing, nada, zero. Not one time does it say, “hey, it’s an emergency.” ya might want to get to a bathroom soon. But don’t worry, I’ll keep the gate shut so you don’t pee on yourself.

Suddenly, I stand up, and my bladder vomits and empties like it’s making fun of me. Told ya!” Wait, you didn’t tell me!” I say. Oh, sorry the radiation burned your nerves. Now you just have to guess when it’s pee time, not tee time. Wtf?  Whose f** idea was this?  Liar liar, pants on fire! Yes, that’s fitting. She laughs.

So sorry, but radiation fried more than your intimate parts. Try peeing more often if you think about it, or wear two pairs of panties and always wear black. haha Thanks. Screw you, I’ll go to the best urogynecologist and fix your snickering attitude, bladder bitch.

So I go to one of the best urogynecologists.  I told her how it started. How I had loss of urine during certain things, I won’t say what. And I discovered I couldn’t feel it when it happened, and I had to tell the boyfriend it wasn’t deliberate. I’m not in kinky crap.

I tell her I can’t feel it full, and I can’t feel it when I go.Wtf, I told her. And of course, stress incontinence on top of it; cough, pee,  jump pee, and now it’s any time. Not to mention now Im having to shop the dreaded incontinence aisle,  passing diapers, pull-ups, and Depends. Please God, I’m too young.

So, being a nurse, I dive into anything physiological that is going on and research everything to a dead end. The urogyn offered me two things four years ago:  Pelvic physical therapy, for strengthening the kegals and an internal Tens unit to try and strengthen pelvic muscles by zapping them from inside the vagina. And It’s only $600, Cash. Thank you very much.

Does it help? Not really.

Yeah, for me, I dutifully go to every appt, I deep breath I stretch I do Kegals, I drive to patients’ homes, doing kegals in the car when my phone reminds me. And I do the internal zapping every night, shocking the internal muscles around the bladder to get them to wake the fuc up. Gee its not even slightly fun either. And no, the unit doesn’t have a name either.

Fast forward to now. The gynecologist says, try pelvic physical therapy again.   Ok. Fine. The therapist is great.  She has me doing abdominal exercises and does vaginal stretching to help the scarring.

She then tries tibial nerve stimulation. She attaches needles to the tibial nerve on my ankle and calf and turns the stimulator on until i feel twitching or vibration. Supposedly, the nerve goes to the bladder and can often help those with an overactive bladder. I don’t have an overactive bladder. That’s when they pee 20x a day cause the bladder is hyperactive. Mine is a lazy underactive one who makes fun of me.

So the tibial stimulation seemed to help a little; I swear I felt a twinge from the bladder, saying it’s time to go. After a few treatments.  Or Im just hanging on to a thread and willing myself to feel my bladder. Or she’s lieing again just to piss me off.

I feel nothing and just pee whenever the bladder is full and bladder bitch says says screw you. It just lies there, filling away like it’s on vacation and too drunk to find the bathroom. Nope, mine is lazy and numb and doesn’t care.   “You should have worn Depends,” it laughs at me .

So the therapist tells me to order my own for home. Amazon delivers. Good then I can zap it as often as I want.

So I get the machine, and it has seven different settings for rate, width, and strength. Sounds like a narrative of an erotic book. Hmm, I’ll try that muscular one, um rate not good, next!. Maybe that handsome tall one, oops width won’t do. Like putting a square in a round hole. Next!  Maybe that handyman with the tool belt, length and width work, 2 out of 3 aint bad..….Oh Sorry, I lost track.

Reading the directions, I read the warnings. Don’t use if you have a pacemaker. Ok, or pregnant, don’t use if the body is wet. Ok, don’t shower with it. Ya think? Don’t get the unit wet, or have electrodes near water.

Well, I drew the Iine on that. Ummm how far from water? Isn’t wine like water? I poured myself a glass and kept it nearby. I mean, why not? It’s like a date with my tens unit.

 I think as long as it doesn’t get spilled on the electrodes, I probably won’t be shocked to death, right?. Note to self, drink wine from a sippy cup to lessen the chance of spilling on the electrodes or the TENS unit while attached to me.

Avoid finding out if you could die.

News at eleven, nurse shocked to death from forgetting her sippy cup. An unfortunate alcohol induced glass of wine water spilled on her tibial nerve stimulator. Otherwise known as a TENS unit.

 But the directions don’t really say one could die, but I  did figure out I must shut off each electrode before removing the electrode pad and moving it. Peeling it off, I got shocked like I stuck my finger in a light socket. So I guess things could be bad If I had it turned up too high. or mixed it with wine water.

So now every night when I come home. I have a routine.   Not going on a date, not going out with friends nothing.

I attach electrodes to my ankles and shock my tibial nerve and insert the other device and shock from the inside. With electricity inside and outside, could I spontaneously explode?

So if I keep shocking it, at what point will my bladder wake up? I ask AI, Dr Google, and my Gyn doc. No one knows…. But we can put a man on the moon. Go figure.

So basically I’m electrocuting it to make it wake up.. I’m tired of my numb bladder bitch  doing whatever she wants. And it pisses me off, or on in my case.

“Take this,” I say as I increase the shock strength.   I’ll keep poking you with a cattle prod until you respond. Get off your lazy bladder ass and pay attention. Brain is the boss, and it’s not getting reports from you.

And brain knows your muscle cronies around you are doing nothing too. “But I get no support,” bladder bitch says. They do whatever they want, leaving me to do the whole job. Besides, “It’s not my fault. Its yours. You married an asshole, got ass cancer, and now I have to suffer?  Again? I’m going to HR for being abused on the job.” I should have joined a union. I want a lawyer.

You deserve to be fired.

Listen, Brain wants to fire you and replace you, but due to your job description and location, she can’t.  So you and your cronies need to stop your whining and get to work.  And don’t roll your eyes either. Your review is in a few weeks, and things better improve.  Heres an extra shock for good measure.

And people wonder why I drink and don’t date.

Somewhere in Texas

Avoiding electrocution.

Buying stock in Depends