I had much the same thing happen in Indonesia. At the urging of American friends there, I got bamboozled into spending sixty bucks and about sixty seconds with a a guy who told me that I pushed myself too hard and that I should “love my bladder.” Send my bladder love, he said.

That will be sixty bucks.

Will you get over yourself. Dear god. But here was the capper :

Oh, and I should sign up for this three-week meditation course.

My response is unprintable.

I am as willing as anyone to entertain the notion that there is a broad range of healing possible well beyond what we know.

What genuinely pisses me off about this moron is the emotional roller coaster he put you through. It boggles the mind. It just does.

I went through six hospitals, six doctors and some right idiots (all men) dealing with a urinary issue. I finally went to a young woman, a DO and urologist, who like me, does adventure travel. Her suggestion was to take aloe vera gels. Funny thing. They helped.

No surgery, no mesh, no procedures no vood-doo. But a whole lot of time, anxiousness, trouble, misdirection, and life wasted in the process.

Your gut was spot on. The second this cretin told you to stop smoking and drinking was the first indication to reverse direction and back out. I should have done the same thing with that guru in Indonesia. But we didn’t. Says something about us, doesn’t it? Hope springs eternal.

They bank on that, all the way to the bank. I am so sorry you went through this.

Horizon Huntress, prize-winning author, adventure traveler, boundary-pusher, wilder, veteran, aging vibrantly. I own my sh*t. Let’s play!

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