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Pessed.

I’m reading the latest issue of MO, a peer-reviewed medical journal that we receive regularly in our practice.  As I have a nervous habit of reading anything available to me while I’m outside with my coffee and cigarette (yes, I know), it wasn’t long before I found myself reading a clinical review on Female Urinary Incontinence. 

Riveting. 

Actually, it was.  As someone who has had one child already with a view to more in the distant(ish) future, I really only thought that urinary incontinence was secondary to bearing children and nobody else.  Save the elderly, where anatomical regression seems to be par for the course.  Pelvic Floor Muscle Training (PFMT), Bladder Training and Oestrogen Therapy seem to be first-line management techniques and, if that doesn’t work, then you look at second-line which would involve either a specialist referral or Tension-Free Vaginal Tape (TVT), Vaginal Pessaries and Botulinum Toxin Treatment.

Pessaries!

Pessaries, for all your pessing needs.

 
I decided, halfway through, to look at the references because the treatments seemed to be escalating rapidly in horrific names.  Tension-free isn’t what I’d be feeling if I had to go to a doctor for urinary frequency and/or incontinence, amirite?  Anyway, I found reference to an intravaginal device called the “Contiform”.  Apparently, it comes in four sizes.  Four sizes.  Small, medium, large and… gross?

That’s all I really want to write about this, because I have a load of chores to do before I get on with the rest of my day.  I’ve wasted this crisp winter morning watching Dropkick Murphys and Grandaddy film clips and checking out Jason Lytle’s website, and playing some MW2 while The Kid was sleeping in. 

I need to pee, but I’m sure I can hold it if I need to.  Win!