I have a very hectic six weeks coming up here. Starting, oh I don't know, right now and going until, say, exactly October 28. This Saturday I'm speaking at a conference. The following weekend I am running our retreat. The Saturday after that I am speaking at a day retreat and then, not long after that, we're leaving for 12 days in Israel where there will be no laundry services except, maybe, a bathroom sink and some soap. So maybe the thing I'm the very most worried about is packing two rowdy boys for 12 days of traipsing through archaeological sites, hiking up mountains, riding camels and wading through tunnels. All activities that will keep my sons' clothing bright and pristine, no doubt. But then, packing has always stressed me out.
I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking when I agreed to speak at two different events in two weeks with a three day retreat thrown in for good measure. Except I know it involved, "Sure I can do that because they aren't scheduled on the same weekend. Why on earth not?"
Imaginary UTI's. That's why.
Yesterday I went to my worship rehearsal at 8:00 am, hauled myself to InstaCare during our Sunday School hour and got back in time to sing for the service. Because on Friday night I started to be aware of my abdomen and lower back and all the trips to the bathroom I was making. This continued on Saturday with me thinking, "Am I making an unusually large amount of trips to the commode? Do I feel my guts?"
I assumed UTI and decided to GET RID OF THAT THING RIGHT QUICK ON SUNDAY MORNING. There I sat, in what is basically defined as Urgent Care, dressed in my church clothes, as all manner of horrible disease walked in wearing sweat pants and hacking up a lung. One of these things is not like the other. One of these things just doesn't want to keep urinating eleventy million times a day.
But guess what?
My urine. It looked GREAT! My numbers were good--except I'm not drinking enough--and there was no sign of infection. But I promise you, it is not normal to notice your bladder. After tapping my back and shoving on my abdomen, the doctor decided to put me on a medication to make my bladder stop spasming. Or something.
And that's when I remembered that a couple of years ago, THE EXACT SAME THING HAPPENED the week before I spoke at a conference. I know because this pill turns urine a very bright orange and stains everything and that just so happens to be memorable to me. Right now I'm gonna go ahead and just tag this THINGS I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T BLOG ABOUT.
So it would seem that Satan attacks my psyche and makes me think I have a UTI, when I really don't. Or he attacks my urinary tract system but masks it as EXCELLENT LOOKING LIQUID WASTE. I don't mean to be flippant about the very real warfare that Satan is permitted to have on us but, honestly, it's almost amusing how predictable he is. From now on, when someone asks me to speak at a conference or retreat, I might as well lead with, "Well, sure, as long as you don't mind every toilet bowl in the vicinity of your event turning orange. Because I will be experiencing a pretend UTI that day."
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