The Cipro pumping through my body whispers a sweet, "Everything will be ok."

When I was a little cherub of only five years old, my mother took me to a specialist who assured her my recurrent urinary tract infections were no big deal, I just had a short ureter, thus ensuring any bacteria that chose to make the journey would only need to travel a very short distance before getting to my bladder. So these infections, they're nothing new. But this morning, feeling that old familiar pain, even after days of chugging cranberry juice each morning like some 90-year-old on a juice regime, I decided that this body I've known all my life was the enemy, and I lashed out against it. J, lucky boy, got to watch me lose it as I wondered what good going on antibiotics AGAIN would do because I would never, ever be free of this body and its incredibly painful tendencies. I told him I just couldn't go to the doctor again, because wouldn't that make me a wimp who can't stand the pain for one day? But I couldn't go to work because HE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THIS FELT LIKE and how could he even suggest I go to work and try to stand there even though I'd have to run to the bathroom every THREE SECONDS...HOW could I possibly do that? So he suggested I go to the doctor and I told him BUT AREN'T THE DRUGS INFLICTING SOME LONG TERM HARM ON MY PRECIOUS BODY? So he suggested I ride it out for a day and I reminded him that the bacteria can get into your kidneys and that the pope pretty much died of a urinary tract infection. And even though he falls asleep with all his clothes on and contacts in on the couch regularly and tells me, "I'm not ready to go to BED!" when I try to move him, I do realize that J puts up with a lot like the other night when he was sitting in the bed eating Fritos and said:

J.A.M.: What if I got really fat one day? Would you love me?

C.M.R.: Yes. Will you still love me if I get fat?

J.A.M. Of course.

C.M.R. I'm fat now.

J.A.M. No you're not.

C.M.R. Yes I am.

J.A.M. You're not, but why don't you try and work out every day until the wedding? It would make you feel better.

C.M.R. I'm not working out every day until the wedding.

J.A.M. Why not?

C.M.R. How would I do that? What about when we go out of town to all these places?

J.A.M. You could work out at the hotels...?

C.M.R. No.

J.A.M. What about working out every other day?

C.M.R. I could do that. Maybe you could do that with me?

J.A.M. I don't need to do that.

C.M.R. Why?

J.A.M. I'm thin.