I've got one word for you guys:
If you've had the vast pleasure of this little fun activity, you know what I'm talking about. If you have not, well, let me just say that on a scale of 1-10, where 1 is a weekend with Satan in the magma chamber of a volcano, and 10 is an all-expense paid week in the Presidential Suite of the cruise ship of my choice accompanied by George Clooney and Liam Neeson, both of whom have agreed to be my surrogate Daddies and my lovers, Urodynamics is somewhere between wrestling a hungry tiger for a piece of raw beef and impaling myself through the anus. In other words, a solid 1.8: physical and psychological torture of the highest degree.
Even the presence of my gentle, calming doctor--who was not scheduled to do the test but happened to be in the vicinity and dropped in to help--didn't help much as first they catheterized me to drain things, then they pulled the cath, then they put it back in, then they connected me to all sorts of diodes and triodes and quadrodes (jk) and such so they could measure everything measurable about me, and then they started pumping in the water.
Slowly, steadily they pumped water into my bladder, asking me to tell them when I first noticed the need to urinate. I don't know when the hell I noticed the need to urinate! But I said something anyway and they wrote something down, even though I told them I wasn't sure. And then they said to tell them when it was getting desperate. But before I knew it was getting desperate, I was leaking all over the place, all over their diodes and triodes, etc.
It was clear from their reactions that this was not an expected thing, and I suddenly was feeling--in addition to highly uncomfortable--very abashed. But the nurse said it was OK, and the doctor was soothing as always, and then the nurse told me she could still get a good reading if she tried just letting it leak until I could stop it. So I kept trying to stop it. Kept trying so hard to stop it. So hard. But it just wouldn't stop! And I was crying, completely losing it, but she was saying calmly that I was doing fine, etc. But I had this damned catheter up inside of me and it hurt and I could not stop this flowing that clearly I was meant to be able to stop and I've never felt so vulnerable and helpless in my entire life. I've never felt the incontinence more, never felt more babyish in my inability to hold anything at all.
When it finally stopped, she talked about trying to push out anything remaining to measure one last thing, but I knew--just knew--that there would be nothing remaining. It would not have stopped otherwise. And I was right: bone dry. She undid all of the various connections and then pulled out the catheters. (Did I mention that for some ungodly reason there were two of them? One in my bladder and one in my vagina? WHY???) And of course I nearly screamed. Then she left me alone to put my diaper and my clothing back on.
My doctor said he had discovered a reason that I was incontinent and we'd talk about it when I see him again on the 11th. He did not say if he could do anything about it. We shall see.
Meanwhile...I'm glad at least that Urodynamics is over and done with. Next time I think I'll see if they could settle for a simple mauling...