My arms are heavy.
Strong antibiotics have held off a urinary tract infection (UTI) for the last eight weeks — evolution isn’t on my side.
In fact, I’m distinctly beginning to feel like the British Expeditionary Force in Dunkirk in May 1940. Surrounded, with my only hope over the horizon.
I’m normally upbeat about my MS travails, but that’s mostly because the problems have either been surmounted — i.e., I’ve made it off the floor — or are dealt with. This time, I’m in mid-crisis.
It all began in slow motion. Felt fine, stopped taking the antibiotic (the latest way to do it). Then immediately had an MS flare, occasionally with the full UTI ritual of urgent urination. Restarted the antibiotic, went back to the old way of finishing the course. Stopped. Then immediately had an MS flare, occasionally with the full UTI ritual of urgent urination.
I’ve entered some sort of antibiotic time loop.
The course that never ends!
So I’ve just seen a urologist. He seemed suitably impressed that I came in with a urine sample. The nurse even chortled appreciatively when I pointed out it was gathered “mid-flow.” Old hand. The analysis might be simple: They find something and an antibiotic that can kill it.
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