If you’re a catheterizer, you’re probably also a bit of a planner. So, if you’re crossing the country to get to a wedding, you leave early. Of course, everyone leaves early for a wedding, especially with weekend road works and a ceremonial deadline. But throw a wonky bladder into the mix, and you head off hours in advance, all the while updating Google Maps.
On this occasion, my Maps app told me and my besuited carload that there was a rest stop in one mile, then the road got rather red and exclamation-marky. Hmm. My passengers were keen to keep going – one hour till ‘I do’. My bladder had other ideas. I decided that my car-sharing cohorts could complain all they liked. When their bladder valve fails like mine, then they can make decisions about when to pull over. Right now, we’re pulling over – or hand me that bottle!
Sorry. Forgot where I was. We made it to the church on time, just, ducking in immediately ahead of the bride-to-be/bridesmaids/bride’s dad/grumpy-looking priest tapping his wristwatch. Perhaps next time I’ll pay Best Western the eighty dollars and stay the night before. You live and learn.
The service itself was lovely. The bride looked radiant. The groom was just happy he didn’t get a lift from me. The couple’s families looked proud. The restrooms looked... suspiciously tricky to find.
Rule no. 512 of self-catheterizing – Know Your Bathrooms. Churches are worse than most places at providing them, but seek and ye shall find. Often, it’s hidden in the vestry, halfway up the bell-tower (or off the top of it), or in the church hall down the road. Plenty of churches, like this one, have only one toilet – and oh, how wonderful, it was positioned right at the back, behind a flimsy balsa wood wall, so the whole congregation could hear you flush. Best to avoid the moment the ministers says “now let’s have a moment of silence...” Flooosh!
Happily, I had no need of these facilities. The only red-faced toilet visitor was the bride’s granny. Sounds of “Where’s the soap? And the light switch?” reverberated around the echoing church. At least it was during the signing of the register rather than during the vows.
From there? Everyone to your cars, we’re off to the reception...
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.