So, “it” started on Monday. I have no idea what I’m dealing with. Is it a urinary tract infection, a relapse, a bird, or a plane? The superhero metaphor is warranted because, just like in “Avengers: Infinity War,” there will be no resolution by the end. Hmm, I’ve blended the DC and Marvel universes — I guess this is what they call a mixed metaphor.
Oops. Spoiler alert. Sorry.
I’ve been self-catheterizing for so long that I’ve forgotten there used to be a simpler way of having a wee; one where I don’t become a martyr to urinary tract infections (UTI). For the last few years, I’ve slathered my hands in antibacterial gel and tried to be as careful as possible. I even used gloves for a while, but this became somewhat self-defeating because MS has reduced the dexterity of my hands too much!
Power has left my body. I’m hardly an athlete, but typically I can still stand up, thankfully. However, when I’ve got a UTI, standing becomes a Herculean effort. I dipstick-tested my output, and though most of the markers weren’t too bad, my leukocytes registered deep purple. That is not a good sign unless you really like British ’70s heavy metal! My wife had a doctor’s appointment that day, so I sent a urine sample to the practice with her. Within 30 minutes, the doctor kindly phoned and said my proteins were a bit high, but that was all. I didn’t have a UTI.
I took one more antibiotic dose that evening to be on the safe side. On Tuesday, I woke up bright and breezy and prepared for the one day I physically have to go to work. All was well.
At 3 p.m., I started handwriting the two pages of work notes (as I’ve done at this time of the week for half my life), but I had to stop halfway through! I know MS gives me fatigue, but this was extreme. The handwriting was also mostly illegible. I swallowed antibiotics and risked struggling into work. Once dressed and in my wheelchair, I got pushed into a taxi and then ferried to my work venue.
The drive takes about an hour, and by the time I got there, I was already feeling a lot better.
Today, I’ve had one wobbly moment and seem to have gotten through it.
I can type this column, so I’m hoping I just have a UTI. But knowing my luck, I’ve got a confluence of that and a relapse.
This writing has all been a bit dour. Managed to plow on to the end? I’ll share a joke that I wrote and got into my satire show last night. One of the subjects the audience requested was a gag on the current Paris fuel riots.
‘The good news for the French authorities is that fuel is now so expensive the rioters couldn’t afford to throw any petrol bombs!’
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