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Living With PKD: An “Oh Shit” Moment

One of the… issues I have had to deal with having this disease began when and after the urologist did his “rotor rooter” thing inside my bladder and now, on the heels of this, I felt like I wasn’t emptying my bladder and the way I was able to do before this… clown made my life miserable because he was 100% sure that I had bladder cancer. I had mentioned this to my nephrologist because he had asked me if I had any problems urinating after the procedure and I said that I did and he put me on Flomax and, well, okay, but I wasn’t happy about it.

I’m… happily masturbating one night and I’m all into it and, yeah, I’m on my way to cumming and here it comes and – voila! Those very familiar feelings are flooding every fiber of my being; my dick is pumping away madly and strongly but because I happened to have my eyes open at the, ah, moment of happiness, my feelings went from, “Ahh…” to “Oh, shit what the motherfucking hell!” because… I didn’t have cum shooting out of me.

And to say that I was feeling some kind of way about that does not begin to describe how I was feeling but let’s say that I was both worried and not feeling very manly (another understatement). Have I finally gotten to that moment where… I have no sperm/semen? I recalled the urologist mentioning as a kind of aside that my prostate was “kinda big” and thinking about how the fuck he would know that but, um, he had had me on the operating table and doing shit to me that I still don’t want to think about but, okay, that he was checking out my prostate made sense. Which, as an aside of my own, had me wondering about some shit because I’d had my yearly physical not too long after that damned procedure and when my doctor was about to give me the finger, I asked him to tell me if he thought that my prostate was “kinda big” and as the urologist mentioned (and like he was telling me what time it was) and my doctor said, “It feels okay to me.”

I busted a nut… and there’s no nut to be cleaned up. I am trying to get a grip on myself and not go into panic mode because there must be a reason for this but other than having that procedure done, nothing had changed except… Flomax. Could that have caused some… problems? I drifted off to sleep rather fitfully because this really bothered me which made me vow to figure out what was going on. Here’s the kicker: I woke up the next day and… my dick was stuck to my underwear and I had a rather impressive cum stain in my underwear and what the fuck?

I get my shit back together and go hunting for the prescribing information for Flomax and read that one of the side effects is something called retrograde ejaculation and I see this and, well, I know what it means but I don’t know what it means but I didn’t have to look it up because the prescribing information was nice enough to tell me what it was and, um, it’s ejaculating and the, ah, results winding up in my bladder or, in this situation, “showing up later” and as in oozing out after all that nice pumping was over and done with. I was… relieved and not so much. I could have mentioned this to my doctor who would have sent me right back to that asshole urologist and I definitely did not want to hear anything this motherfucker had to say and he would have very likely wanted to find out if, in fact, my cum was going into my bladder or whatever the fuck was going on.

The test is actually easy. I masturbate then pee in a cup and my urine is tested to see if there’s sperm in it and, okay, I’m sure that asshole would find a way to make such a simple thing a veritable nightmare for me but what I didn’t see is how to… correct this, um, misdirection – but feeling “assured” that experiencing this isn’t something that’s a problem or nothing gets harmed when I ejaculate other than my very male ego. I just had to make sure than when I masturbate – and, um, something does come out, but I just literally have to milk myself to get all of it out… otherwise, I’m changing underwear a little later. It’s not affected my ability to get (and keep) and erection and I do cum and it feels the way it always does which, um, yeah, since the stroke, that gets seriously interesting and intense but, yeah. This. Like I don’t have enough shit going on with me.

I could stop taking the Flomax but, according to the prescribing information, it may or may not do anything about this retrograde ejaculation thing. Part of me wants to stop taking it and there’s that part of me that knows that my nephrologist said that, well, peeing is good and that it is important for me to be able to completely empty my bladder and my poor kidneys will thank me for this. It’s just… weird to cum and knowing that there’s still more hanging out. On the one hand, ya mon – the well has not dried up and as I had feared it had! On the other… shit. At best, it’s annoying and more so when there have been moments when I’ve shot my load and think I’ve gotten it all out and my underwear tells a different story. It’s… kinda embarrassing and I know that there’s no reason to be embarrassed since I also know that I’m not too old to have wet dreams and I do have them at times so this… retrograde behavior, in an odd way, isn’t all that different.

It’s like after sex or masturbating, I cum… then I have a bit of a wet dream later. It wants to fuck with my head and I’m determined to not let it fuck with my head and more so when there’s probably nothing to be done for it – as far as I know. I could make an appointment with the urologist to get some more definitive information about this and I’d be good with going… as long as I don’t get the one who made my life a living hell and I know that since I’ve seen him before, it makes all the sense in the world to see him again.

Damn it all to hell. What’s making this fuck with me even more is me giving some very serious consideration to undergo the procedure that will remove the cysts from my kidneys… and that’s a job for a urologist and take a guess which in-network urologist I will probably find myself talking to about this? I guess I’ll find out how patient friendly this practice is when I tell them that I don’t want to see the doctor I saw the last time I was there; I really don’t want to know that he’s in the building and it’s kinda fucking with me because I don’t know how I’m going to feel or react if I happen to see him… or having to give into the very logical thing of dealing with him because he’s already familiar with what’s going on with me.

Fuck. I know that I’m going to do whatever I have to do in this but I find it curious to have been so… traumatized by this one particular doctor and knowing that I really, really do not like him and I mean I’d be happy to put him in the hospital because I seriously do not like him. I can’t even remember the last time I felt this way about anyone and it’s kinda bothersome because I trust my other three doctors and I very much like them… but this guy. I know that if I wind up with him, I’m gonna have to behave myself and quell the fears – and a couple of nightmares I’ve had – about “going under the knife” with him again, like, coming out of the anesthesia and being told that things were so bad in there that he had to remove a kidney. Which I know is a possibility because the research I’ve done with both the Mayo and Cleveland clinics say that it’s a possibility…

But I don’t know how I feel about him deciding that taking my kidney out is the thing to be done. I got some shit to deal with because he was the one who prescribed the Flomax that’s given me retrograde ejaculation and he might be the son-of-a-bitch that’ll first decide if I’m a candidate for the procedure and he’s the one who’s going to do it. And… it scares me. Okay, I’m not really scared but I am seriously concerned given that he put me through some shit that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy because he thought and was sure that I had bladder cancer and was kinda, “Oh, well – sorry about that!” to find out that I was right when I said that I didn’t have bladder cancer.

I gotta get past this and I will but… shit. I have a lot of questions about this procedure that a urologist can answer… and it makes me cringe to think about how he may or may not answer them to my satisfaction and it becomes a bit of a Catch-22 because I can request to be seen by another doctor in the practice but this asshole already knows me.

Damn it. I’m just venting. But, damn just the same. Whichever doctor I wind up seeing, we’re gonna have a long talk about this retrograde ejaculation thing, too.

 
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Posted by on 26 August 2022 in Living With PKD

 

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Living With PKD: An Update

I’m still stable and all of my doctors are happy campers but, man, it’s literally a pain in the ass! I’m sure that the weight of my kidneys are pressing on my sciatic nerve and making my butt hurt something fierce; it feels like I took a seriously good and hard kick in the ass and the only time it doesn’t hurt is when I’m lying down.

It’s making me seriously consider having the cysts removed… but what will be the outcome? I have so many questions that I’ve not found online yet but I’m sure my nephrologist knows the answers and while I kinda hate waiting for my appointment in December, I’ll just be patient unless this pain in the ass gets any worse.

I’d gone over all the information sent to me by the team that works with my health insurance and it’s not really telling me anything I hadn’t already known, figured out, or I’ve been told by my nephrologist and PCP; keep my cholesterol and BP in check. Drink lot of water… then drink some more. Avoid sodium-heavy stuff and, well, shit. That’s not that easy to do even though I know there are low-sodium foods and, wow – cut out most of the sodium and you’re left with food that is pretty bland or downright yucky but some also “make up” for the reduction of sodium chloride by adding either magnesium chloride or an even bigger problem, potassium chloride.

I already know those two salt substitutes tastes nasty as fuck and in my condition, potassium is to be avoided as much as possible. A kind of an aside: Today’s my late father’s birthday (he would have been 89) and I remember my sister calling me one day and was losing her mind.

She said, “Guess what your father is doing!”

I said, “You mean your quarter, right?” which was a long-standing running joke between me and my three siblings. She kinda laughed but said that this was serious and I’m thinking, “Uh oh…” and thinking about how many times I got a call from her about him being back in the hospital and he might not make it this time and, okay, what the hell is he doing?

I had to pick my jaw up off the floor when she told me that he’s on pure oxygen because of his COPD and… he lit a cigarette. Now I know why she was losing her mind because I’d lost mine for a moment; I mean, what the fucking fuck was he thinking about? I listened to her venting about this and after talking to her, I called him and asked him what the fuck was wrong with him doing that – didn’t he know he could have caught on fire and that tank of oxygen could have exploded?

He said that he knew… and didn’t really care. He said, “I’m gonna die from this shit anyway so I don’t see the point in not doing what I feel like doing.”

I read him the riot act including that he could have burst into flames and taken my sister with him, and I knew that he was… shrugging and, man, was I pissed off. I couldn’t understand why he’d do something so dangerous and why he had the attitude that he did.

I understand it now. It’s hard to ignore what’s going on with my kidneys between this goddamned bloating and, now, the pain in my ass to go along with the pain in my lower back. I’m not getting any worse so no real worries there (knock on wood) but while I do keep an eye on what I’m eating for both sodium and potassium content, it’s like… well, I sometimes “go over the daily limit” because I don’t see any real harm in cheating every now and then… as long as I don’t make it a habit and, man, given how much I love to eat, it’s been hard to see my favorite foods… and to walk right past them.

Maybe this is going to turn into a life-ending problem and maybe it won’t and I know that there’s nothing I can do about it although the cyst removal procedure might make things less harrowing… or maybe it won’t. The thing I have to do – and that I’ve been doing – is staying cool, calm, and collected about it and as long as none of my doctors wind up having an “oh shit” moment, I’m good. I recently saw my vascular surgeon and I know he saw my yearly CAT scan and… he said everything with my AAA repair still looks good and I re-confirmed that I was still seeing my nephrologist (like I’m gonna not go to him, right?) and he said that was good.

I know him well enough by now to know that if he saw that my kidneys were fucking with my abdominal aorta and its repair, he would have said something and would have had me back in the office and with a plan to deal with the situation. He didn’t do that so, yup, both things are fine as far as he’s concerned, and I have no reason to question him about it.

How do you live with this? You just do. You don’t let it fuck with your head. I look at my “beer belly” and I can laugh at it, well, except when it gets in my way like when I have to bend over and, well, it’s just funny – but that pain in my ass isn’t. I laugh at myself because I’ve caught myself walking around or standing just like pregnant women do because of the lower back pain and, yeah, that’s just funny, ain’t it?

Yeah it is. I just wanted to take a moment to get this out of my head…

 
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Posted by on 5 August 2022 in Living With PKD

 

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Living With PKD: An Update

Had my yearly visit with my nephrologist yesterday and he’s happy that I remain stable and that I’m showing no other symptoms other than my bloated belly and lower back pain.

He did mention that he’s been following new treatments and medicines that could help people like me and told me about a new procedure where, using a laparoscope, a urologist can remove the cysts and in a way that they won’t come back… and was that something I might be interested in? He also mentioned that unless the bloating is really causing me problems, i.e., a lot of pain, a urologist might not recommend that I have this done.

I’m on the fence about it and I have six months to think about this before I go back to him so we can talk about this and, I guess, he’ll tell me what else he’s learned about this. He mentioned “urologist” and I had two thoughts: The first was about the urologist who put me through some shit that I would wish on my worst enemy because he was sure I had bladder cancer and because he’s the in-network urologist, yeah, I’m not a fan of this guy and I’m not sure if I want him fucking around with my kidneys, which brought me to my second thought of why my nephrologist wouldn’t be the one to do this and the bad part is that I didn’t have this second thought until I was on my way to take care of an errand but that’s okay – I can use his patient portal to ask him if I really want to know and, right now, I don’t really want to know.

I got on the scale and weighed in at 204. My normal weight is usually around 178 or so but I had to go back to taking Lyrica for the pain left over from the stroke and one of the side effects of the drug is weight gain. The nurse who weighed me blinked at what the scale told her and said that I didn’t look like I weighed that much and while my lady teased me about my belly, before this kidney problem got to where it is, I weighed as much as 235 pounds but to look at me, you couldn’t see where the weight was and I never figured out where it is.

My nephrologist seemed to be concerned about this since, when I saw him last year, I weighed 177 pounds – until I told him about the Lyrica and he just nodded and said, “Yeah, it’ll do that…” and jotted something down on my chart. He did his usual poke and prod and I had a funny moment when he wanted to poke and prod me and undid the fasteners on my “Farmer John” bib overalls for me which I thought was interesting since in the times I’ve seen him before, he’s waited for me to do whatever I had to do to expose my belly.

The bisexual in me had fun with that since it’s been a while since a man chose to start to undress me…

The sobering thought is that there’s no good ending to having this disease other than the chance that it won’t get any worse than it already is. I think about this new procedure he mentioned and, urologists aside, I wonder what removing the cysts does toward improving kidney function but that’s a question I’ll remember to ask him when I see him again. My initial thoughts are about wanting to endure any surgical discomfort to remove the cysts which, again and if nothing else, will get rid of this “beer belly” but if doing so has a chance to worsen the condition, eh, I dunno if it would be worth it.

I’m saying this now and with the awareness that months from now, I could be saying something different. I woke up because I was dreaming about being “traumatized” by my urologist and him doing this procedure on me while I was wide awake and not even numbed. I realized that of all the surgical procedures I’ve had, having this dude fucking around in my bladder and having to find out what it’s like to pass blood clots through my dick still bothers the shit out of me.

I have six months to think about this and I will think about it and will ask a slew of questions about the actual details of the procedure and other important stuff. I’ll let you know how that conversation goes!

 
7 Comments

Posted by on 11 May 2022 in Living With PKD

 

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