I'm now a huge fan of the catheter.
In my life they have been incredibly important on a number of occasions. Such a simple piece of equipment with a great pain and pee relieving capacity. They really do take the piss out of you!
My first experience of catheterisation was in September 2010. I'd fallen out my upstairs bedroom window during the night. I was either sleepwalking or heading to the loo for a pee but I'll never know which because the memory was knocked clean out of me on impact.
I landed in the garden 17 feet below. Apart from flashbacks of the ambulance ride through the Wicklow mountains to hospital I don't recall much after that until I came round in a north Dublin hospital ward surrounded by anxious family.
The following days and weeks weren't easy. I'd broken a few bones in my neck so the medical people had put me in a straight jacket to stop me moving - body, neck and head all bolted together in a frame. My arse and thighs were a blended colour combination of green, blue, piss-yellow & pure ink black caused by bruising from the impact. The biting chronic pain from that was very profound and I have much to thank my dearest friend morphine for, for being there when I needed it! To be able to self administer with my very own analgesia pump was blissful release when the pain got too much to bear.
In the midst of all the turmoil there was some good. Days after surgery I suddenly had a worrying thought. I hadn't been to the toilet since arriving in the ward so where was my fecking pee going? Even then it seems that urinary retention was on my mind.
I quickly brought this to the attention of a nurse fully expecting her to press a panic button and have me rushed in to surgery but she just smiled awkwardly and told me "You are with a catheter Mr Woods. You don't have to be worrying about your urine now!" That took a while to sink in.
Catheter!? ..... Me!? ..... Ca-the-ter!? ... WTF!!!?
Back then I knew very little about catheters. I was young - like! Catheters were things that old people had to use because their ancient innards didn't work anymore, so the words 'you' and 'catheter' used in the same sentence did not compute.
Men are very protective of their nether region. It's where their crown jewels are kept warm and safe and separated from the hostile world around. The thought of them being interfered with surgically is the stuff of cringing, wincing and nightmares. The idea of a tube being pushed up your dick just isn't an easy thing to accommodate - and without one's own consent!
The bottom line is - stuff comes out your dick - it isn't meant to go up it! That just isn't natural!
Being confined to my hospital bed I didn't dwell on that for long though. Not having to piss from one end of the day to the other was simply wonderful and I adjusted instantaneously to the new order of things - the simple, painless penile intervention. That catheter was a keeper!
After leaving hospital there was an 11 year gap until my next catheter encounter. I wish it hadn't been that long.
In 2021 my dad started using an indwelling catheter - one you don't remove. He had his own prostate problems and couldn't control his pee. His carers drained the attached leg bag several times a day and fitted a night bag before he went to sleep. To say he was very glass half empty about this is an understatement. Whilst allowing their use (he had no choice) he absolutely detested them, but they were a necessary evil from which dad's quality of life was much improved (and the amount of time my mum spent doing laundry!) You could tell however that he was discombobulated by having the penis he'd had life long single control of being manhandled by ladies he trusted and respected but didn't know. Whilst I presently see catheters in a positive light I can't say I'm looking forward to the arrival of that day in my older age.
No comments:
Post a Comment