The Bladder Pressure Test


How many of us have had to endure the indignities of a bladder pressure test? I’m guessing more than would care to admit. Well, last week I was lucky enough to go through this myself after 7 years of unresolved (unresolvable ?) problems. I spent a delightful hour with my legs spread open while a female comedy duo proceeded to stare intently ‘down there’ and fumble with twisted up, flimsy little tubes while directing a 1,000 watt spotlight in my general area. The results? There are no results – my brain, my body, my bladder is all too weird. And that’s the trouble with MS, it is simply too weird. Unless you are speaking with a neurologist or a particularly good MS nurse, then you will constantly find yourself faced with the look of bewilderment, occasional wonderment – but mostly just confused, can’t be arsed bafflement. The urologists were left dumbfounded. It turns out that the signals travelling from my brain to my bladder and vice versa are so squiffy and messed up that nothing could be concluded from it. So, a wasted hour? Not quite, my bulging brown folder has now been stamped with the words ‘rarity’, ‘freak of nature’, ‘nonsense case who frequently leaves the medical profession in a complete tiz’. My body doesn’t make sense, I don’t make sense and because of my age and the impact it is having on my life they are kindly bumping me up to the top of the waiting list to see the consultant and to have further, more intrusive tests done.

So, is there a positive to having all these squiffy messages flying around my body? Of course. On giving birth to my second child 18 months ago my uterus decided not to inform my brain that I was in labour. I therefore spent a blissful night sleeping through all the would-be agonising contractions and spent the morning leisurely pottering around. The first my brain, and indeed I, was aware of it the baby was already making an appearance. Yes, it was scary as, and thank goodness there were no complications, but I’d say that was a pretty cool way to go through childbirth. Not many people get to deliver their own baby and get to be the first to touch them. I’d like to thank my befuddled, damaged, crazy-ass mess of a central nervous system for giving me the most perfect way to welcome my child into the world.

First published 18 August 2016

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