Tags
Arthritis, CFIDS, CFS, Chronic Fatigue, Fibro, Fibromyalgia, ME, Migraines, MS, Multiple Sclerosis, Myalgic Encephalomyelitis
It’s something that we all do multiple times a day, but no one wants to talk about. For most people it’s simple enough – you walk in, do your business, walk out. For those of us with chronic/debilitating illness, however, it’s a whole other gambit and it can set us into tears of laughter or into…well…tears of the other kind.
That’s right; I’m talking about going to the bathroom. Whether you call it the loo, the john, waiting the oval office, the library, the restroom (as if it’s restful!), the latrine, the privy, the head, the commode, or you get right down to business and say the toilet – there are a lot of different names, but one thing we all have in common is that we all do it and it sure isn’t the same for us as it is for other people. For now, I’m going to try to keep it interesting and mix up the names I use.
Now at home it’s a lot simpler and I hope you all have figured it out. There are all sorts of bathroom accessories at the medical supply stores to make this job simpler and believe me – those folks have heard all the stories so there’s no need to feel embarrassed. The real challenge comes when you leave the house and all those wonderful adaptions (and privacy!) are left behind. So let’s get right to it.
Looking for love in all the wrong places
First of all, if you’re like me, you don’t always know that you have to go until you HAVE TO GO NOW! Public places don’t realize this and aren’t exactly designed with latrines scattered every 30 feet or so…too bad, it could be a bit hit.
So now you gotta go…excuse me… you gotta GO! But where? The sad fact is that as uncommon as those toilets are – they’re actually more common than the maps to find them! Okay so you’re gonna get all smart and ask someone, right? Good luck with that – a lot of times they’re all carefully hiding down aisles blocked off with displays designed to make ordinary people buy things. Oh sure – those aisles started ADA accessible but now they’re just an obstacle course for wheelchairs, scooters, canes and swinging purses. Good luck with that…
Eureka!
You found it! Congratulations! Don’t pet yourself on the back just yet – about half of these things have corners designed by a cruel maze-maker last seen living in a dungeon in London laughing maniacally. If you can walk – you’ll probably be okay, unless you get run over by a gaggle of teenage girls rushing out. If you’re in a wheelchair/scooter like me – your goal is a 32.7 point turn…25.3 if you’re an expert. (You can shave 5 points off by holding the door for an able-bodied person – the look on their face when they realize what you’re doing is priceless.)
The waiting is the hardest part
Now you can pat yourself on the back…over and over and over. Go ahead! You have plenty of time while you stare at all those empty stalls. Ladies go in and out of them once…twice…three times… aha! The handicapped stall is finally emptying so put that chair into high gear before anyone takes it from you – your bladder is about to make you wish you had invested in those more expensive pads…
I’m going in
Let’s forego the nasty stuff on the floor/seat (everybody has to deal with that) and talk about what’s unique to us. Once again you’re going to have to deal with that tight corner, but here’s a tip – use a cane! I keep my cane with me on my scooter – collapsed down and that handle becomes my hand for things I can’t reach. It’s great for opening/shutting doors.
Once you’re in and have done your business, we enter into the realm of…
OMG I never thought of that!
Now most people just walk out and wash their hands…but not if you use a mobility device. Now you get to transfer back, arrange everything and begin to get back out of that tight space…*backwards*. As you thread the needle of stalls, taking turns between bumping the wall, the other stalls, and barely missing peeking toes, you’re acutely reminded of the lack of privacy. Long gone are the days of just going and being done.
Finally you make it to the sink. It’s only handicapped accessible by the barest minimum standards and my scooter never actually fits (basket on the front). So here’s the picture:
I try to edge up against the sinks at about a 45* angle to get close, but leave space for others. I reach as far as I can and begin to wash up. Because I’m leaning, it doesn’t take long for the water to start dripping down my arms. Soap? Oh yeah – if it’s out I now have to angle out of here with my wet hands (scooters don’t like wet hands – bad for electricity) and move to another basin. Finally done, it’s time to dry… and how do I do that? Air dryers are almost always behind me – near the line of ladies. Ugh!
If there are towels – and they’re within reach I like to take one and get it soaped up and wash the handles of my scooter. Because if not, seriously, why did I even wash my hands? That sanitizer gel stuff you say? Yeah that’ll make the handles dry and crack prematurely. Better to wash it. *sigh* It’s really not a pretty picture.
Free at last
Finally it’s time to leave, so you reverse engineer that devilish maze and cruise back on out, at as high a speed as you can manage – desperate to leave it all behind you. Then find the nearest bench to sit on (or out of the way place to park your chair) and slump in exhaustion. It’s really over. You look at the time…hey not bad! It was only 20 minutes! You’re getting better at this. Pat yourself on the back – but this time do it with your imagination – you’re way too tired to try it physically. Just rest for now – the other people with you may never understand.
Defying the Odds 