Not A Great Morning

It's been a difficult start to my day this morning. It began with the transfer to my commode chair; not so much the transfer itself but what that transfer signaled to my lower colon. Freedom! Basically the commode chair is a toilet seat on wheels, so it is no surprise that sitting on a toilet seat should stimulate my bottom end. I have learned to control that process, in most cases. This morning it caught me by surprise. I managed to control the great escape, but some of the inmates got free, there, while I was sitting on the commode chair next to my bed.

Fortunately this incident was contained by my underwear; there was no spillage. I managed to get into the bathroom and positioned over the toilet before anything else bad happened. Unfortunately I was then forced to remove the enclosing article of clothing. Somehow I managed to do this without smearing myself. Unfortunately, once free of my body, the contained articles continued their path to escape, landing directly in front of me on the floor.

I stopped everything and cleaned up the mess, including rinsing my underwear and the cloth I used to wipe myself down. Then, after a brief and unsuccessful continued visit to the throne, I decided to shower. This went well, although my bladder was acting up while showering. No worry; it all goes down the same drain. Once finished, I returned to my bed so my Home Care Aide could apply the needed creams and powders in the areas required.

It was during this process that my bladder once again sprang to life. I was ready. I knew this might happen. I grabbed my jug and aimed, all while laying on my back, my belly blocking my view. I got it right, mostly. The part I didn't get right soaked my bath towel beneath me, leaving me damp in a couple of places. My HCA got a washcloth and towel, and cleaned me up.

The rest of my morning routine was without further incident. I dressed with no further need for release. I did my exercises, as did my HCA. I got out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to make coffee. What I have not mentioned is that I am out of Keureg pods, so I have reverted to using my French Press for coffee. This requires that I boil water in the kettle.

I grabbed the kettle and realized is was almost empty. I pulled the lid off. At the same time my hand holding the handle spasmodically released, the kettle slipping and falling onto my lap before I could re-establish my grip. The resulting splash soaked my shirt and pants... and my groin once again. Right now I am hoping that the air dry process is sufficient.

Please note that I blame none of this on the election of Donald Trump. I have no doubt that this is simply a result of ALS attacking various parts of my body. The fact that I had a shitty, pissy, soaking wet morning should in no way imply any opinion on my part with respect to politics in the USA. It couldn't, could it?