Page 26 of My So-Called Perfect Life

“Oh my God, Mercy. It hurts so bad.”

“You should call your gyno and see if you can get an appointment later,” she tells me as I exit the stall, feeling both relieved and uncomfortable. “It’s only going to get worse.”

She’s right. This morning, I felt a slight sting when I used the bathroom but nothing like this. I can’t imagine what I’ll feel like later. I pull my phone from my pocket and call the doctor’s office. I need to get this taken care of ASAP.

* * *

“Your symptoms are consistent with a UTI,”my doctor says. “So, we’ll do a urinalysis to be sure, but I also want to do a swab just in case it’s something else. It will save you a trip back here.”

“Okay.”

I follow his instructions and scoot to the end of the table. I place my feet in the stirrups and try to think about anything other than what’s going on under the paper blanket.

“How’s your summer going?” he asks from his spot between my legs.

I hate this part of being at the gynecologist. Like, why does he have to make small talk while looking at my vagina? It feels like he’s talking to her, not me. So weird.

And he chooses to ask the worst question ever.

Well, Doc, my fiancé cheated on me, and I found out ten minutes before I was supposed to marry him. Then, he proceeded to act like a total douche canoe. Then, I had great rebound sex, only to be pumped and dumped. Now, I have fire leaving my body when I pee. I think summer’s been great so far. How about yours?

I choose the most PC option and go with, “It’s good.”

“That’s nice to hear,” he says as he pushes back from the table. “We’re all done here. I’m going to put a rush on these, so we’ll have the results by tomorrow. The office is open until noon, so someone should call you before then. I’m going to give you some antibiotics in the meantime. You might also want to pick up some over-the-counter phenazopyridine to numb the urinary tract while the medicine kicks in. Drink plenty of water and cranberry juice. It will help flush out your system.”

I’ll stand on my damn head if it helps. Anything to take this pain away.

“Okay, thank you.”

Trekking back out into the heat, I hail a cab and stop at the pharmacy down the street from my apartment. I drop off my prescription and look for the meds the doctor told me to get in the aisle while I wait.

The urge to pee again hits me like a ton of bricks, and I shift from one foot to the other as I look at the various choices.

Uristat. Azo. Store brand.

Does it matter which one?

Do they all work the same?

Last time I had a UTI, I was, like, sixteen, and my mom bought my meds.

“Hi, Miss Jacobs,” I hear someone behind me, who is definitely not using his inside voice say. “Look, Mommy, it’s Miss Jacobs.”

I turn to see one of my students from last year—Michael Rochester.

“Hi, Michael,” I greet him, trying to seem casual. “How’s your summer so far?”

“Miss Jacobs, do you have to go potty? You’re doing the pee-pee dance.”

The flames of embarrassment lick up my neck and into my cheeks.

His mother looks from Michael to me to the part of the aisle I’m standing in front of.

“Honey,” Mrs. Rochester admonishes him, “it’s not polite to ask things like that.”

“But maybe she doesn’t know where the potty is. We should tell her.”

His tiny voice carries, and I feel like the entire store is staring at me.