You're at the local movie theater. It has been a while. It seems like movies lately have been made just for teenagers, which are not your cup of tea, but finally, a good movie has arrived and you're ready for it. It is a fairly long one, two and one half hours, but, it has been so long since you saw a good movie in a theater, you don't care. Bring it on.

Your spouse is with you, and she is as anxious as you to see this movie. You are there 15 minutes early, but you know that because it is such a long movie, you better sit at the end of the aisle, because more than likely, you'll have to get up during the movie and go to the bathroom. It seems like you have had a weak bladder for over a year.

When you tell your spouse you want to sit at the end of the aisle, your spouse says, "No way! Let's sit right in the middle. This is going to be a good one." You tell her, "I don't think I'll be able to sit through the whole movie without getting up to pee."

She then replies, "Go right now, and then you'll be fine." So, you get up, go to the bathroom, come back, sit right down in the middle seats of a packed movie theater, and begin watching the best mystery thriller you have seen in the last 5 years. At about the one hour 45 minute mark of the movie, you know you have to get up and go to the bathroom. You feel like you are going to explode.

You lean over next to your spouse and say, "I've got to go to the john." She whispers, "Hurry back." So, you get up and start climbing over about 20 people to get to the aisle. You don't really look directly at anybody as you say, "Excuse me," to everyone, because you don't want to see the hate stares as you climb by. It is bad enough to hear the muffled mutterings of disgust as you go by. You race to the bathroom, and then repeat the process getting back to your seat.

You then whisper to your spouse, "What happened? What did I miss?" She replies, "Shhh... I'll tell you after the movie." You think to yourself, 'Gee, thanks.' The movie continues, and nothing makes sense. You have, unfortunately, missed a critical scene, the most important one of the movie. You were gone less than five minutes! How did the main character, the Jimmy Stewart-type good guy, turn into a Charles Manson-type horror show? Absolutely nothing makes sense. You were enjoying the movie so much until your bathroom break. It is very frustrating.

You again ask your spouse when you reach your car in the parking lot after the movie, "What happened when
I went to the bathroom? How did the good guy become the bad guy?" She replies, "You know, I didn't get that part. That movie was sure complicated. I guess I will have to see it again to figure out why some of the things turned out the way they did."

You are completely frustrated. You say little in the car on the way home, and then lope off to your study alone to mull things over. This movie fiasco is just the latest in a series of events caused by prostate problems with a weak bladder. The various problems have included:
a) having to get up frequently in the middle of the night to urinate causing sleeplessness and drowsiness, which in turn, cause their own set of problems.
b) weak urination when you do have to go.
c) having periods when you feel you have to urinate, but can't.
d) feeling a burning sensation when you do have to urinate.
e) trouble starting urination(you eventually go, but it seems like it takes forever.)
f) feeling as though your bladder is not emptying completely when urinating, causing various leekage problems and the associated wetness of your trousers, which you find embarassing.

You hate going to see doctors, but, in this case, you know you should go. Your attitude has been, 'Well, if the worst thing that happens to me is having to go pee a lot, I guess I will just have to suck it up and go pee a lot. I mean it is better having this problem than having cancer or aids or heart problems or various other illnesses which are much worse than having to pee a lot.'

This movie fiasco, however, has bummed you out. You tell yourself, 'I guess it is time to take care of this problem. One year of this BS is enough.' It took a Charles Manson-type clone to push you over the edge.