I’ve been whinging for months now about struggling on through near-constant urinary tract infections.
This week’s joyous occasion was finally having a poo (hurrah), but then not having the energy to do anything about the result (boo).
Usually, when you can’t fix a blockage, you must admit defeat and call out a professional. Unfortunately, there’s no 24-hour plumber service for this predicament.
I’d done my best.
I made three attempts while deploying around a liter of water. Gwyneth Paltrow would have been impressed.
So, I gave up and tried to get something done with what was left of my day.
As sometimes happens when you’re not trying, my body’s natural functions kicked in. Maybe relaxing is a key of sorts. Though it’s not the sort of door you want to open too often.
There was no way of getting to the bathroom in time. Anyway, I get so many false alarms that I feel like a firefighter during freshers’ week!
Until I moved downstairs and had a powered wheelchair, I’d lived for just over a year with only my trusty commode as a daily companion. So, I had no problem with reverting to this in the event of an emergency. This time it wasn’t a false alarm. After all of my efforts, a feeling of satisfaction spread through me.
My sense of relief lasted for just five minutes.
I was in an ideal place for standing, right next to the post of my hospital bed. As the bed raises or lowers, I can maneuver it into the perfect position.
However, my efforts were useless as I could no longer stand on my legs.
I tried for a half-hour, but it was becoming increasingly dangerous.
I realized that I’d have to wait until my body recovered from acute fatigue.
It was time to “Netflix and chill” on my phone, though this has an entirely different ambiance when you’re disabled.
At this point, my wife came in to tidy something away, and thankfully, she asked what was going on.
I could stand safely with two hands to cling on while she cleaned me.
I got back in my powered chair, sat in front of my laptop, and got a few things done.
Netflix was my reward for later.
Ironically, while finishing this column, I feel the urge to go to the bathroom again.
Wish me luck …
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