WARNING: If you’re squeamish about medical stuff, especially female medical issues, you may want to skip this post.
As a lead-up to my scheduled bladder surgery, I had to undergo a number of medical appointments and pre-surgical tests. One of those tests was a bladder dynamic study.
Now, I’ve never had that test, nor do I know anyone who has undergone it, so really I had no idea what to expect. Sure, I was able to find information online about the procedure itself, but saw nothing posted by people who had actually taken the test. So, for those who are interested, consider this my public service announcement.
One thing I love about my urogynecologist is that her practice consists mainly of female patients in my own age group. For years, I refused to go to a gynecologist simply because I would feel embarrassed by having to sit in a waiting room full of young pregnant women who might wonder why such an old lady even needed OBGYN services.
In addition, my new doctor has her office set up in such a way as to make it physically comfortable for us older (and some of us, larger) ladies. It’s a short walk into the building, with no long interior hallways. The waiting room has comfortable seating, including some wider chairs for those of us who need them. And, I discovered, if you need to give a urine sample, the bathrooms are set up adjoining the exam rooms so there’s no need to amble across or down the hall.
My only complaint, and it’s not really a complaint, is that my doctor is into teaching, so she often has interns and residents come into the room with her. Normally that wouldn’t bother me, so long as they’re just standing around observing – but on my very first visit, there was a young, cute male resident who got to do everything my doctor did. He was very professional and compassionate, but really, I didn’t need two people getting all up in there.
Having said all that, let’s get to the procedure in question.
Fortunately, for the bladder dynamic study, the only people in the room were me, my doctor, and one of the female nurses.
To begin with, I was told to sit on the exam table and pee into the plastic container at the foot of the table. Say what? Have you ever tried to pee anywhere other than a room designed solely for that purpose? I haven’t. And even though everyone had left the room to give me privacy, I simply couldn’t do it. Not that much of an issue, though, as I knew a catheter would be placed in a few minutes anyway.
Subsequent to my pee failure, I was asked to move up onto the table itself. Instead of the normal exam table, I was in the “procedure room” where the table had nice, wide footrests instead of those awful stirrups. That was much more comfortable for someone like me, with at least one bad knee.
What wasn’t comfortable was the procedure itself.
Sure, I knew that a catheter would be placed, and I suspected that the doctor would need to “get up in there” – but what I didn’t expect was that (in my case, where the bladder was fully prolapsed) a probe would be inserted into my rectum, apparently to capture the electrical nerve impulses. I was unable to resist commenting to the doctor that I felt like I was being medically tested on a spaceship, at which point she replied, in effect, “yeah, we abducted you.” That little bit of humor made me feel much better about my surgeon; at that point I think I began to view her more as a partner in my medical journey, rather than just a professional overseeing my care. Since my life will literally be in her hands in another week or so, that relationship is very important to me.
So, for those who don’t know, the bladder dynamic study consists of filling the bladder to capacity and testing the nerve impulses. Not the most enjoyable of experiences, but it wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be (other than the probe). Afterwards, I was asked to move back down to the foot of the table and try to empty my bladder. Although it took a few moments, this time I succeeded – despite the fact that both the doctor and the nurse were watching. (Years ago, I was told that once you’ve birthed a child in a hospital, there’s little to no modesty any more. I believe that’s often true.)
Apparently the test went well enough, and no leaking was discovered. That means I will be able to avoid any additional repair work to the bladder itself. My surgery will consist of repositioning the bladder, inserting a “sling”, and then sewing everything up.
Sounds awful, doesn’t it? But at least I will be unconscious during the whole thing.
Hopefully, in a couple of weeks I’ll be able to report that the surgery is over and all went well. I’ll try to avoid all the graphic details, not that I’d remember them anyway or, for that matter, even be aware of them. In any event, my surgeon has assured me that the procedure is fairly routine and is tolerated well by the majority of her patients, most of whom are my age or older. She also indicated that the pain level should be low to moderate and that simple Tylenol should be sufficient to ease the pain, but that prescription medication would be available if needed.
Hugs, all. Your support in my mini-journey has been overwhelming. I have so many awesome friends, both online and offline. Until now, I wasn’t truly aware of that – and I’m deeply grateful for it.
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I love to hear from my readers. You may comment on this post or email me at cordeliasmom2012@yahoo.com
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Image by Cordelia’s Mom/TeddyRosalieStudio
Of course, I’ll have all those un-planned-for medical bills. There have been a number of medical appointments and pre-surgical tests for which there are co-pays. My Medicare Advantage insurance will cover most of the testing and the surgery itself, but the out-of pocket costs will still add up and will need to be taken from savings.
So basically I just muddle by from day to day, taking paid surveys to build up a little extra cash for my Amazon orders, and listening to hubby yap 24/7 about this, that and the other thing (don’t ask for specifics, I stopped listening a long time ago). At this time of year, it’s been too cold and snowy to even go outside, so mostly I’m housebound except for medical appointments. Perhaps come spring I’ll manage a little more motivation – who knows?
Cordelia's Mom, Still 
