Passage to India

I know all of you reading this have been worrying yourselves to death over my previously mentioned trips to the urologist. I'm here to reassure you that Misty (yes, that's her real name for anyone new to the party) and I are still getting together on a semi-regular basis. But after spending enough money to pay for a week in Tuscany (my barometer for all expenditures) on ultrasounds, urine tests, office visits and one really uncomfortable "stretching" episode, Misty was no closer to remedying the problem than the day I stepped into her office.

That's when I decided to take matters into my own hands. No, I didn't enroll in med school - I'm trying to re-invent myself but I'm not crazy -  I just started reading everything I could get my hands on about my miraculous body and why it might be turning on me. In my search, I discovered a website where other women were wrestling with the very same issue. They were all spending the majority of their day going to the bathroom, thinking about going to the bathroom, or trying to distract themselves from thinking about going to the bathroom. Their stories were mirror images of mine as were their experiences with their doctors - not a whole lot of help for the money spent.

As I continued to read the comments, I stumbled upon one woman's solution. She said she had begged her (male) doctor to let her try a topical estrogen cream, Estrace, because she had heard that it might be the answer to her problem. Having never taken any kind of hormone replacement therapy (HRT) to get me through menopause, I never thought about missing hormones being a part of my current discomfort but the more I read up on the idea, the more it made sense.

So, naturally, I trudged over to my (male) urologist's office (by this time Misty had handed me over to her boss, a grizzled old guy who was as serious as Misty was chipper) to ask if I could try this miracle cream. When he reluctantly provided me with a prescription, I headed straight to Costco where I found out that trying this possible remedy would result in a $145 hit to my bank account. As much as I wanted to try it, I couldn't pull the trigger.

I went home, searched the internet for prices on Estrace and found a website that offered it for $42 for two tubes. Skeptical but willing to risk fifty bucks, I placed my order. That's when I found out that it would take two to four weeks to receive it because it was coming from. . .you guessed it, India.

Long story short (yeah, I know, too late), it's made a difference. I've only been using it for two weeks and, while not where I used to be when I was twenty, I no longer feel destined for the Depends' aisle.

I do, however, see more boxes from Bombay and a whole lot less interaction with my friend Misty in my future.