Suffer

Hospital Journal Monday January 26, 2026

I woke up in the middle of the night in my hospital room, in a quiet despair of pain. It seems chemotherapy hit me hard this day, and it all started with me in bed, starting to feel uncomfortable because I couldn’t pee properly. They have me on a pee machine here, where my piss is analyzed, and I, of course, have to supply the source. But slowly, in a very cruel manner, I discovered that I couldn’t feel the pee between my legs, even though the pee machine was measuring the weight of my piss and so forth. A few drops of piss came out instead of the raging river of pee that normally happens to me. The pressure of not pissing had me howling against the cold walls of the room, and I called the nurse in.

She studied the situation and couldn’t find anything wrong with the machine, and everything seemed to be running well. I told her I was in pain. As she checked up on me, she noticed that I had actually pooped behind the waterway. In my sleep, I pooped and didn’t realize it. She cleaned me up, cleaned the bedding, and put me back in my place. As soon as she finished and left the room, I pooped in the exact same place. I called out to her, and once again she cleaned me up. As you can guess by now, I repeated the same action, but this time she had me lie in bed and collect the unwanted poop that was coming from the entrance of hell, that is, my butt.

Four hours later, I was begging for release from the shitting machine I had become, but with painful results. It started at 3:30 a.m., and by 7 p.m., I learned to live with the discomfort. I finally, with the help of Lun*na and a nurse, decided to sit on the toilet, and that released me from the pain. The strange thing is that I actually left a small pile of shit on the bathroom floor. How it got there is a mystery to me.

Later that afternoon, as I was trying to nap, I discovered that I couldn’t piss with the machine. Once you are hooked up to the pisser, you have it for the rest of your hospital life. I haven’t the foggiest idea or memory of being hooked up to this machine. I must have been on another spiritual plane, that all of a sudden, well, three days later, I realized that I’m part of the piss machine. So, as I was lying in bed, the pain of not being able to pee was horrific. I called the nurse in to help me, and at first, he couldn’t find the problem. But he gave me a scan and found something.

One has to keep in mind that a nurse is a nurse and a doctor is a doctor. The goal was to get me a catheter, but to do that, he had to find a doctor who would take on the job, and often the doctor was already busy. As he looked for a doctor, I started panting, begging God or Satan (either one would do at this point). When he left the room, I howled in pain and begged the walls for him to come back to save me, hopefully with a doctor.

Thirty minutes later, he came back without a doctor, but he did have some tools of the trade. He had the good idea to use a temporary catheter, which would allow me to pee freely. To do so, he took my penis and put a needle inside the urethral meatus, to touch on the bladder, where he could pick up urine. He couldn’t reach the bladder because I had blood clots inside my pecker. He tried five times and failed.

Plan A, to find a doctor, didn’t work out, and neither did Plan B, so we went back to A. And A was my prostate doctor. She put a catheter on me, and heaven came upon me.