The Who Strikes Back

There are many things that can wake me up at 4 a.m. — weird noises, dogs barking, good sex dreams. I don't usually mind. But last night, when I was pulled out of sleep, I minded! I felt like I had just been gang banged by a bunch of sailors who all had the clap. And I hurt. Bad!

I was broad-sided with an urinary tract infection that had me in tears. I briefly thought about heading to the ER, but decided on a couple of painkillers followed by a wine chaser. It held me over until 8 a.m. when the doctors office opened up and I called in for a real prescription.

I'm sure this infection is the work of the catheter or the result of the surgery. I had a staph infection after the last one, so I should have been prepared, but I wasn't. As I stood in line to pick up the pills, trying hard not to dig my crotch until it bled, one thought kept racing through my mind — I wonder if this is going to happen when or if I ever have sex again?

It really is a strange thought for me to be having for several reasons. First, the who surgery means sex is out of the question for a while. It could actually mean sex is out forever, but before that can be determined you actually have to try.

Which means I have to find somebody to have sex with. Because of the HPV, I would want the guy to use a condom. Do forty some year old men find this request odd? And how do you just ask for sex?

"Excuse me. I have HPV, half a who and I want to see if it still works. Are you game?"

I'm not sure that I want to commit to a relationship, but something tells me having sex again with a human would be nice. The problem is, I think I may have forgotten how. The Dick and I hadn't really had sex for the last five years.

Let's just say I if owned stock in Duracell, I would be a very wealthy woman.