Sunday 19 July 2015

18 July 2015

Today felt like the beginning of the end. I've been in hospital for three days. It's only tangentially related to MS in that I was going along on Old Smokey, foot slips of the footrest and jams under the chair. It hurt a bit but no biggie, I thought. Long story short, spent eight hours in A&E which resulted in my admission for IV antibiotics. 

So far so ordinary. It's a little awkward in that the toilets aren't designed for someone with an electric wheelchair. Yes, that's what I said. No, it's not an old hospital, but one of the newest in the country. I'd figured out how to have a wee in there. It's a bit of a faff but it's doable. Having a shit is a different matter. 

I delayed too long; not the end of the world.  I emptied my bowels. Then I discovered that try as I might, I couldn't work out a way of wiping my arse. Yes, I've been doing it since I was a kid, but I couldn't lean over to lift my butt. I tried and tried. In the end I burst into tears. I kept trying and kept weeping. 

It was at this point that I felt it was the beginning of the end. What living being can't wipe his own arse for pity's sake. I pulled the red cord. As I waited for the final part of my dignity to be torn away, I wept. 

One nurse came who summoned another and then a third. I think they were all filipinas. As they tried to reconcile the issue of extricating a 6'3" man with limited mobility from what is essentially a cupboard, they slipped into speaking foreignese. "I'm glad I don't speak Tagalog" I said. 

They were fabulous. They made me feel as ok as I could. I no longer felt like imminently checking out. But it was close.