“Wake up,” Spouse gently whispered at 6:30 a.m. — the morning after our return from the Lopez Lake campout. The last time he did that was when the news broke on 9/11. So my Now-What-Happened-? hairs raised immediately.
“You need to take me to the ER,” he said in full trepidation.
“OK,” I mumbled as my feet departed the bed and searched for the bedroom floor. “What’s going on?” I asked with all sorts of nasty fears rising to the surface.
“There’s blood in my urine.”
Twenty minutes later we were on our way to the nearest emergency room. Let the drama begin!
Spouse said good morning to the nurse with the catheter to drain the bladder, which was already distended by all the liquids Spouse drank while I slept, in his effort to urinate — but didn’t urinate. Pain.
The bloody urine was rushed off to the lab. It was bacteria filled. Oh, goody! How in the world did he get a bladder infection? The ER doctor prescribed a high dose antibiotic. “If your catheter blocks from blood clots, return to the ER immediately,” were the doctor’s parting words.
We returned in less that 12 hours and then it got really ugly — so ugly that I won’t share all the gory details here because this is a travel website not a medical nightmare website. But in five words: This was a medical nightmare.
So, back to Lopez Lake.
Day Two—Hike! It was a warm morning, with more heat promised. The hike was not to be a long one, just a few miles, but included a steep grade to conquer, so the goal was to pack light. As I filled both water jugs, Spouse said, “No, I don’t need one. We can share just one jug.” Me: “No. I will drink that entire jug, so we’re packing one for you too.” He drank just a few ounces on the warm, sunny uphill hike.
A cold beer waited upon the hike’s conclusion. A cold beer is nice, but—water is better, gentlemen!
In less than 36 hours, the ER drama was in full force.
Apparently, according to comments from my girl-buddies, their spouses have had similar experiences from not drinking enough water. Hey guys: DRINK YOUR WATER. Just because you’re not thirsty doesn’t mean that you’re hydrated. Oh, and if you’re older, dehydration is even more serious. (Spouse is not 17 or anywhere near that blessed age—as his white hair belies.)
I will now pack a few bottles of drinks high in electrolytes for all future adventures in Gilda.
One more time: GUYS, DRINK YOUR F-ING WATER!