While I was lost in la-la-land writing the pilot, Lou was literally cracking under the pressure.
And even though I knew this, Lou was starting to isolate himself from me in cold and prickly ways. There were moments where that familiar kindness that Lou possesses in spades would show up, but he was mostly edgy with me. So, when he was kind or funny, it didn’t warm me the way it used to.
There was this chilly and growing gap between us that I had no energy to try close, and, Lou didn’t seem interested in trying either.
Things were still hung up with the filings for the company. Henry and Jim were beyond frustrated, and on top of everything else, the fall and winter holidays — plus the Jewish holidays — were about to start adding new delays to the mix. If you’re in any business that’s related to banking in NYC, the Jewish calendar is very important to follow. And that year, if it could cause a delay, it did.
Lou was miserable.
The week before Thanksgiving, Henry and Lou flew to New York for a couple more anticipatory meetings, and while they were gone, Lou started feeling terrible. He and Henry had to do a lot of walking, and Lou kept telling me he was constantly out of breath. And, he felt like he’d gained 20 pounds in the first two days of their trip — and, Lou told me he hurt all over.
At that time, we always blamed the altitude of Utah for most of the strange things that were going on with Lou, but this time, Lou was practically at sea level, and we knew it was impossible to gain that much weight in two days just from eating! Lou was also having that horrible urgency symptom again. But this time, it was worse than ever.
Henry had a place in the city, but Lou decided to stay with our closest friends (who live in Greenwich) for the weekend. Well before this trip, Lou had been doing his impression of a busy hooker’s nightgown every night. He was up and down every 30 minutes or so, and I think both of us were suffering from a lack of sleep.
But on this trip, things had gotten so much worse. There were times, Lou told me, that he had to get up every 15 minutes — and when he’d go, pretty much nothing would eliminate. Lou was stressed, exhausted, and the meetings in the city weren’t going all that great. So every phone call we had during the week that he was gone was pretty bleak.
When Lou and Henry got back, it was two days before Thanksgiving. Henry and his family had plans to be away, and so did everyone else we knew in Salt Lake — which only added to our depression. Lou was completely overcome with exhaustion, and his legs and feet were extremely swollen.
We figured all of the walking in the city — and the flight home — had taken a toll on his whole body. But when Lou and I were watching TV on his first night back, Lou started experiencing a whole new symptom. He started leaking.
Whaaaat??
There was no blood — thank you, God, for that small favor! But the leaking thing was almost worse in a way. When Lou would go on his own, nothing would eliminate. But if he was just sitting still, or trying to sleep, everything would just…leak out of him!
My spirit animal, Juanita, was overwhelmed because we were still sleeping in someone’s guest bed! But with Henry and his family out of town, I was at least able to sneak upstairs to wash the bedding and all of Lou’s clothes without getting in anyone’s way. But this time, I couldn’t handle the “wait and let’s see what happens” approach. We needed to go to a walk-in clinic.
Stat.
When they took Lou into the back of the clinic, I remember feeling emaciated and cold. My eating situation was offering me a false sense of control that I wasn’t willing to give up just for the sake of having enough meat on my bones to handle the winter temps. But because I really didn’t have a lot of winter clothing choices, I usually put together some layered outfits that made me look like a winter hippie with clean hair and nicer shoes.
I remember feeling completely numb in anticipation of what this walk-in doctor was going to tell us. My faith in doctors and their understanding of Lou’s situation was pretty paltry. But after an hour of waiting, a nurse finally came to get me. She said Lou was “draining” and could use some company.
Draining?
When I pulled open the curtain to Lou’s examination bay, he was leaning back on the padded table. There was a catheter sticking out from underneath a thin hospital blanket covering Lou’s legs, and, there was a very worried doctor standing next to him.
A large white bucket with blue measuring lines on it was down on the floor, and the tube of the catheter was emptying out into it. It was kind of a strange sight — and I have one other super clear memory. The doctor looked exactly like Wilford Brimley — the Quaker Oats spokesman — which was oddly comforting.
It turns out, Lou’s prostate was so swollen that it was closing off his urethra, and so his bladder was completely full of urine, and his body was trying to absorb his overflow of fluids — which explained why Lou felt 20 pounds heavier.
“Dr. Brimley” seemed very alarmed by the volume of urine that had been pouring out of Lou since he inserted the catheter. He explained that a healthy bladder can hold a maximum of 800 ml of fluid, but so far, they had already drained out more than twice that amount! I looked down at the bucket. Fluid was still slowly trickling into it. When I looked at Lou, he had his eyes closed.
It must’ve been such a relief to have an empty bladder…
Dr. Brimley took more of Lou’s blood, did a prostate exam, and sent Lou home with a walking catheter, and a referral to the top urologist in Salt Lake City. It was the best he could do. But he emphasized how worried he was about Lou — multiple times when I was in the room. I wanted him to offer Lou a bowl of steamy, wholesome oatmeal to make his warning sound less worrisome…
But all Dr. Brimley had was the look of concern in his eyes and a doctor’s referral in his hand.
The next day, we joined a guy from Lou’s company and his family for a very lovely Thanksgiving gathering. The things on my list that I was thankful for that day were a good night’s sleep (thank you Dr. Brimley and the catheter you installed), a warm puffer coat that Henry’s wife lent me, and…
