Sunday 30 August 2015

Going, Just In Case

I'm struggling today, starting from this morning, with a mild case of the "Green Apple Quickstep". Yes, it's what you think. I suspect my diet yesterday has something to do with it. Most of it consisted of watermelon, oranges, cucumbers, and tiny tomatoes. There was a small bit of cheese fondue in there, with some bread and sausage, but nothing matching the proportions of the fruit, especially the watermelon.

For most folks, a day like this would be a mere inconvenience, a few extra trips to the washroom. For me, it's a bit different, particularly the "quickstep" part. I live with a body which refuses to move quickly, where nothing is easy. Today I live with the fear and certainty that at least one of the trips to the toilet will not occur in a timely fashion, or that blast of gas will contain an unpleasant side effect.

So far, I've gone through three pair of underwear and one bedsheet, the fitted one for the bottom; the rest look fine. There's been a fair bit of rinsing going on, and I now have a load of laundry in the washing machine, plus the half load of stuff that was just lying around. It's a messy business, all this. I think I've washed my hands at least a dozen times since getting out of bed, along with cleaning other parts of my anatomy very thoroughly.

It would be nice if this kind of problem could happen without it being a major event. Alas, it won't. It would be nice if I could have something vaguely resembling the ability to move about quickly when dealing with this kind of bodily distress. Alas, I don't. What I have is an anticipatory gamble with long periods of waiting just to be sure. So far it's taken the better part of my day.

I've managed to manage. That is the best I can hope to do. Now if you will excuse me, I think I need to go somewhere, just in case something might happen.

2 comments:

  1. Agree 100%. Since the work washroom commode is an impossibility to me (not because it's not accessible, but because I can't do the transfer on my own), when something like this happens, I have to jump in my car and drive home, take care "business" and return. Probably a 2 hour round trip -- if I'm lucky. Meanwhile, in the old days it would have meant a 10 minute trip to a bathroom stall and then back to work. Ugh!

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