I Can Only Hope

Some mornings go well. Others do not. It is the natural ebb and flow of things that make the variability in outcomes. Today is a morning which went not so well. For starters my HCA, Olga, called me at 10:30 AM to tell me she would be here at 11:00 AM. No worries, although I was struggling with having to try peeing into a full urine jug. I am sure you can surmise the outcome.

When she did arrive, she did the morning catheterization only to discover there was blood in my urine again. This was not the same as last week; this time it was, or appears to be, a smaller amount, something that happened during catheterization. Nonetheless, Olga felt duty bound to call the clinical nurse at CBI Homecare whereupon they had a very long discussion about the amount of blood, the colour of my urine, other potential symptoms includin pain of which I have none. All this while I am laying on the bed, naked, awaiting the next step in my morning routine.

Oh, and I forgot to mention; my friend Tonny had arrived to make Saturday breakfast for me, something he does every couple of weeks. Tonny wasn't all that freaked out about any of my stuff; he is an inately calm person. Still, he's cooking breakfast for me while Olga is trying to figure out what to do next.

On top of all of this is the fact that Olga is running late, and is now compelled to spend more time than planned looking after my needs. Unfortunately this leads to rushing things. Rushing things is something you definitely cannot do with my condom catheters. Their ability to hold depends on holding me until my essential part is warm, then attaching the catheter properly, then holding me again until the glue sets. It takes time, a fair bit of time she didn't really have. So in the end, my catheter was not well attached. You can guess what that means.

So now, a couple of hours later, I have blown off the catheter, soaked my clothing, and I've had to call for additional help, if it ever gets here. Getting help on a Saturday is not an easy thing. Everybody wants their weekends off, to live their own lives with their family and friends. So here I sit, wet, slowly getting colder and more uncomfortable, with clean laundry in the dryer, waiting for me to get to it. That clean laundry, by the way, is my replacement clothing. So, that's next. At least the morning is over and I am on to the afternoon. I can only hope.