No Go
December 18th 2008 07:26
Back to Day Surgery today for the wonderfully named exercise: Trial of Void. This, in layman’s terms means: being able to empty your bladder after you’ve had a catheter taken out.
I was as nervous about this as I’ve ever been about anything, because if I didn’t manage the ‘trial’ I’d have had the catheter out for nothing, and have to have another one put back in.
Part of the joy of Trial of Void is that you have to drink lots while sitting around in the ward doing nothing. I did do the Sudoku in the newspaper, (no great achievement since it was only level 1) and tried to read Ian Rankin’s Strip Jack
, but neither of these held my attention as much as the voiding.
The voiding went okay at first. The (male) nurse had lined up half a dozen urine bottles, and every time I went to the toilet I was supposed to fill one of these (not literally ‘fill’) and hand it back to him to measure. Exciting job for them.
The first two tries were okay, but by the time I got to the third things were starting to seize up again, and only a little dribble would appear. Eventually it got to that same ridiculous point where I was desperate to go, but nothing would work.
Which meant, back to a catheter again.
I was pretty distressed about this, and pretty fed up too. But as both the nurse and the doctor who came to put the catheter back in said, it wasn’t the fact that I was tensed up that was causing the problem; rather the prostate is trying to squeeze the life out of the urethra even though the latter is only trying to do its job. It’s what happens when the prostate gets too big for its boots.
So I was in Day Surgery from 8.30 am till at least 1.30 pm. Missed the work luncheon – couldn’t have eaten anything anyway – and eventually came home and rested after the ordeal.
I ought to feel thoroughly unhappy, but the strange thing is that I don’t. Having got used to the idea of wearing a catheter over the last eight days, having yet another doesn’t seem to be quite such a big deal. Perhaps it’s fitting a bit better; certainly it doesn’t feel as though it’s cutting into me all the time. And knowing that keeping the thing in means I won’t have any difficulties with emptying my bladder is another plus.
Of course it’s still a nuisance: cleaning it up, and adding a night bag when you go to bed all take up time that would be better used in something more interesting. But the goal seems more in sight. I have another appointment due in a fortnight, which, being New Year’s Day will no doubt get delayed until the following week. And at the appointment I actually get to see the Urologist.
It looks as though some operation will have to take place, possibly the one where they scrape out the inner area of the prostate so that the urethra has some room to breathe. Hopefully not the one where they remove the prostate completely.
Time will tell.
I was as nervous about this as I’ve ever been about anything, because if I didn’t manage the ‘trial’ I’d have had the catheter out for nothing, and have to have another one put back in.
Part of the joy of Trial of Void is that you have to drink lots while sitting around in the ward doing nothing. I did do the Sudoku in the newspaper, (no great achievement since it was only level 1) and tried to read Ian Rankin’s Strip Jack
The voiding went okay at first. The (male) nurse had lined up half a dozen urine bottles, and every time I went to the toilet I was supposed to fill one of these (not literally ‘fill’) and hand it back to him to measure. Exciting job for them.
The first two tries were okay, but by the time I got to the third things were starting to seize up again, and only a little dribble would appear. Eventually it got to that same ridiculous point where I was desperate to go, but nothing would work.
Which meant, back to a catheter again.
I was pretty distressed about this, and pretty fed up too. But as both the nurse and the doctor who came to put the catheter back in said, it wasn’t the fact that I was tensed up that was causing the problem; rather the prostate is trying to squeeze the life out of the urethra even though the latter is only trying to do its job. It’s what happens when the prostate gets too big for its boots.
So I was in Day Surgery from 8.30 am till at least 1.30 pm. Missed the work luncheon – couldn’t have eaten anything anyway – and eventually came home and rested after the ordeal.
I ought to feel thoroughly unhappy, but the strange thing is that I don’t. Having got used to the idea of wearing a catheter over the last eight days, having yet another doesn’t seem to be quite such a big deal. Perhaps it’s fitting a bit better; certainly it doesn’t feel as though it’s cutting into me all the time. And knowing that keeping the thing in means I won’t have any difficulties with emptying my bladder is another plus.
Of course it’s still a nuisance: cleaning it up, and adding a night bag when you go to bed all take up time that would be better used in something more interesting. But the goal seems more in sight. I have another appointment due in a fortnight, which, being New Year’s Day will no doubt get delayed until the following week. And at the appointment I actually get to see the Urologist.
It looks as though some operation will have to take place, possibly the one where they scrape out the inner area of the prostate so that the urethra has some room to breathe. Hopefully not the one where they remove the prostate completely.
Time will tell.
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