Today has been fairly disastrous.
The spasms that woke me just kept coming. Drinking water seemed to make it all worse.
After about 3 hours, my catheter ( supposed to stay in for 3 months ) suddenly wasn’t in anymore. .
It’s a tube that is inserted into the penis ( or ureter of a female ) and is kept locked into the bladder by a small balloon that is then inflated with a syringe of water. The balloon is about the size of a prune. In my case the prune had pulled out, through the internal valve, and right out of my ? end.
If I’d been able to feel it, I’ve no doubt it would have hurt like hell. As it was, it didn’t, but has no doubt not done me much good, internally.
Without the bloody catheter in, my bladder just filled up to a crazy degree, with associated spasms that looked like I was a horizontal extra from Riverdance.
In a slight panic, I called the District Nurse, who should have whizzed the 600 metres from the Health Centre to see me, and put a replacement in. Instead she told me that she was quite busy and it would be at least 2 hours. She suggested that I call 999 and get an ambulance to hospital, where a nurse would eventually do it. In disbelief I did call them, but then attempted to do it myself, having a spare catheter in a box.
After a fair bit of guesswork, I managed to get it in and got the balloon bit inflated, and 3 litres of pee slowly came out. That’s a f*** of a lot of pee.
I cancelled the ambulance, and a urology nurse then arrived, who checked my handiwork and verified it was ok… but said I need one with a larger balloon ?
I took that as a compliment.
Eventually I made my way to Richmond and spent a bit of time with Pia and her daughter Holly.
My trip back was then extremely disastrous, but I’ll thank Toby and a few pissed rugby fans ( fresh from Twickenham ) for their assistance. Let’s just say that I had a degree of mechanical failure, and that it was just as well that I hadn’t had a drink myself.
Thanks to my social worker for her help today, too.
And also many thanks to Kim.