Well, it's finally OUT .... Thank heavens. It was in longer than it should have been I now realise.
I had first gone in two weeks after my RP on 27th March. Actually it was two weeks and a day to the 'reveal' appointment.
Removal the first ...
The first such occasion I wasn't even aware of the slip of passage. The nurse in question gave me a plastic jug and told me to relieve myself. They only had very small cups of water from a cooler on the floor. I had seven of them and then went to test my luck. No dice. I went downstairs and got an actual cup (paper of course) of hot water, my usual tipple. Then I proceeded back up and back into the toilet I'd been initially shown. A smile came over my face as urine began to hasten itself through what felt a passage of burning needles unto the plastic jug.
Then suddenly pound, pound, pound on the door. It was yet another delightful CNS nurse. They are always thinking of others are they not. Well, NO. Not in my experience. (All I could think of was the one I had first been introduced to after my diagnosis. She was doing her nails and handing over any and all sheets with her free hand. She never looked at me. 'This is a life-changing event' she said. Too Right it is, I thought.
In her reed-like dulcet tones this particular nurse said: 'I need this room for a flow test. You need to get out'. Those words are now emblazoned in my memory. I complied of course. Sadly I hadn't delivered enough to satisfy the reviewing nurse. A number of hours progressed. I gingerly drank more water but really didn't want to overload myself lest I just 'became stuck'. My overseeing nurse - again so caring - came back, jabbing me in the shoulder telling me she 'wanted to go home'. She did this - by my count - six times within the space of 20 minutes. Patience in this vicinity is clearly a hallmark. They are just so understanding don't you think.
I did venture several more times into the loo which was clearly only occasionally dedicated in my regard but now it was all a decided 'no go'. All I could think of was that I was taking up someone else's time and space and I really shouldn't be there in any event. It was futile.
I went back to the observing nurse who was now seemingly fuming. The steam seem to emanate from her repressed demeanour. Clearly she had proverbially had it with me. She determinedly walked down the hall and dragged a consultant forward. He kindly said the choice was mine whether or not I wanted to be re-catheterised. (I REALLY didn't.) He left. The nurse glared. She was going to have none of this. She pounded her pavement once again dragging him back and he did the deed. No compromise this time. None at all. She stood there staring with her arms folded. It was clear who wore the trousers in this particular relationship.
I realise now - having had it removed for a second time - that the second catheter in my regard was totally unnecessary. There is no doubt in my mind that this had been totally redundant for this patient - It WASN'T however for that nurse. She had got finally to 'go home'. Objective achieved. END OF (that particular) STORY.
Removal the Second ...
Twelve days later I returned to the same venue to undergo the same procedure. There was I must now confess a very real and substantive part of dme that didn't want to go. Just walking into that department now give me the hebejebes. I was only going in this time to satisfy the notations on my MyChart account. Why I should feel that so important I really can't say, but it appears that I did. I would have been MORE than happy to remove it myself at home.
Certainly I really didn't feel I needed the generous support of the CNS nurses at this particular London hospital. In any event, I was a good boy and dutifully went. Another nurse blessedly was on call now and called me in and went through the same details. The catheter was removed - a little more noticeable this time. I went downstairs and had a double hot water. I didn't need to be told. I had rehearsed. I now knew the ropes. I went back up to the floor and found another loo. Hopefully there will be no banging here I said to myself. Not too long afterwards I managed filling about 80 ml into the plastic mug. I was delighted. I went out and back into the loo I had initially been shown - (and forceably removed from) - and put it - as instructed - behind the dedicated hatch. After than I rapidly went back to the other room and told the nurse. She seemed pleased and went away to deal with my results. Her assistant measured the remains in my bladder. There was nine ml. She told me: 'You're doing well'. The other nurse came back smiling and said I was free to leave. She had initially told me that she would give me a prescription for a pump before I left. I never received that same.
That same nurse - the returning one - told me I might flood on standing up from the gurney after having had the catheter removed. Happily I didn't. In preparation I was wearing a Tena 3 under a Depend brief under my own underwear to help keep the bulk fit to form. They were totally dry. I walked gingerly. I had heard of people leaking with movement. After fulfilling the urination requirements I had tried coughing and laughing in the loo. I was totally amazed. There was no uptake of leakage at those events either.
It is now over 24 hours later and I am STILL - almost entirely - as far as I can tell at least - continent. There have been two little exceptions. The first time I quickly got up from my desk there was a minor spurt. 'You didn't squeeze,' I said to myself. A slightly greater one - though by no means significant on the continence ladder methinks - was after attempting to force passage of a small amount of gas. That's something else you should now retard I said to myself. I have. Apart from that - nothing.
QUESTION - If after 24 hours you haven't had any mishaps is it right to think you are largely continent? OR - is the waterfall yet to come? I feel almost silly for having put a plastic sheet and especially dedicated cover on my bed. In my case it looks like it may very well have been overkill. I had both everything and more on the lists Lyn and others had kindly instructed within these pages. I may well end up with a HUGE surplus to offer to charity - if they will have it.
As ever I will be grateful for your kind advice .... and I sincerely hope this telling might ultimately be of some practical help to those in a similar situation in the future. May it edge towards hope ... as that is certainly what my intent would be. I feared this element (e.g., the continence - or incontinence more to the point) I think more than any other on this particular voyage.
Now for my first post op PSA on 17th May. The result from that - about which I'm amazingly not concerned at all now knowing the pathology results - will I hope be the last stone to turn before I can well and truly begin to put this little adventure behind me. Given the good will of SO MANY here I will do so both in appreciation and joy.
All and every good wish to any and all hereabouts.
Edited by member 23 Apr 2024 at 16:11
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