Out and about
I use one type of cath for the home (where I run tap water on the cath to coat it) and a different one out and about that’s got a squeezy liquid pack inside the packaging (because it’s a tricky dash from sink to stall).
Sometimes I use disabled toilets. Generally I don’t. Because when I have done, even though I’m within my urological rights to, I feel guilty should I open the door to see someone more obviously disabled there waiting. They “tut”. I adopt a fake leg injury and drag it behind me like it’s a war wound. I hobble away, gradually straightening up like Kevin Spacey at the end of The Usual Suspects.
That same pal I mentioned above once had a run-in with a woman waiting for the disabled toilet. “You’re not disabled!” the grumpy waiting woman shrieked. “Oh yeah? Then what’s this!” my friend replied. And threw the used catheter in the woman’s direction. I am in no way condoning this behaviour, but it was quite funny, and in her defence, my friend claims that she never meant to let go of the cath. (Yeah, right).
The opinions expressed here are of a personal and anecdotal nature, and are in no way a substitute for professional medical advice. You should always consult your doctor or nurse if you have any questions.