Quickly Out of Control

This week my calendar went out of control. There were only two things on my schedule when I looked Sunday morning. I saw a chiropractor’s appointment on Monday and a Wednesday appointment at the urologist’s office. Those were the only two things to which I was committed. By Thursday evening with all of the hoopla behind me, I felt as though I’d run a marathon.

I mentioned in my last post Monday was my first time meeting with a new chiropractor. When I left the office, I had two other appointments scheduled. Tuesday evening I went to the monthly gathering of the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society. There’s usually a speaker, but with Governor Wolf’s pandemic restrictions, we’ve eliminated them and conduct business meetings.

The second chiropractic appointment I added Wednesday afternoon. The morning was already filled with my urology appointment. I’m being treated with medications for an enlarged prostate gland. The urologist’s examination was an evaluation to do a procedure to reduce the size of the prostate.

Benign Prostrate Hypertrophy is a disease limits the passage of urine. The flow’s restricted by the enlarged prostate gland. First evaluation was to see my flow. (I peed into a measuring device to see how much and how quickly it flowed.) Next, test was an ultrasound of my bladder to note how much urine remained in my bladder. Not exciting, but then I was ushered into an exam room and told to remove my clothing from the waist down. I sat on the exam table swathed in a paper sheet.

The doctor was to scope my urinary tract. As I lay there with my toes crossed, the doctor slid the catheter into my bladder for his viewing pleasure. It wasn’t pleasurable for me. There was pressure and burning, even after he withdrew the scope. Next, he had me roll to my side to insert a rectal sonogram probe to estimate the size of my prostate. Again it wasn’t pleasant, but I am on the schedule for the procedure later.

I ate lunch before my second chiropractic appointment. It went much the same as my first. From Greensburg I drove to Stahlstown to collect fund raising pies that the Historical Society sold. I hurried home to fix a meal before Wednesday evening prayer meeting.

Thursday, I drove my friend who’d had knee surgery to her dentist to extract a tooth, the victim of a Gummy Bear attack.

Friday morning as I woke, I saw a text from my son-in-law saying there’s a brush fire near my house. I went outside to look. I couldn’t see smoke or flames, but there were ten sets of flashing red lights in the field about 300 yards above my house. I wonder what more excitement I this week will hold.