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Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Chained To a Police Station Pole, Maryland Terps Basketball, and Bathroom Issues

Reconnected with a friend from high school, hadn't seen him since right after we graduated, 30 years. We did typical things, chased girls, did things our parents didn't want us to do, played football, and got arrested. Now when I say got arrested, I'm not talking about pictures in the post office, just dumb kid stuff, the kinds of thing you get chained to the pole in Fullerton station until your parents come and sign for you. That's kind of why we hadn't seen each other for 30 years!

So my friend wants to know if I'd like to go watch a Maryland Terps basketball game with him? My first reaction is way cool, I'm in! The I remembered, I have MS, just slipped my mind. Here's the problem. I'm in a state of limbo. With a cane I can walk slowly into your house, no prob. If I have a sudden bathroom run, I'm probably close enough to make it. Getting into the field house, long walk, and getting to the bathroom, a public mens room, where the guys have been drinking, don't know if I could, or would want to! We will probably watch the game at home.

Not sure what bothers me more, the fact that I have the issues I do today, or the fact that I'm so comfortable talking about them? My life away from home is structured around who has the cleanest bathrooms, how far they are from the parking area, all that good stuff. Maybe I'll right a book, public outhouses for a traveling guy with bathroom issues. I need to work on the title.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

For outings, use Pull Ups, with an extra pad insert -so when the pad gets wet, go to the men's room, pull it out, and you still have dry pull ups to get you through your outing.

Once you start limiting yourself on invitations and outings, the invitations will stop coming and/or you will constantly making excuses why you can't go and you will become a recluse and then the depression gets worse than it already is.

We all must find a way to continue living life, even if we don't live it the way we used to do it.

****
We all know where the bathrooms are when we go out -- it is a fact of living with a disease. I look forward to your book on public facilities and the best ones to use. LOL

Take care,
Anne

awb said...

Anne - I'm not kidding! There is a 7-11 on RTE 50, just east of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, I've never been in such a pleasant bathroom. Yes, a 7-11!

As much as I hate the idea, I will file the pull ups idea for now.

awb

Anonymous said...

I know what you're talking about. My sister invited me to a concert in Boston and I immediately said, "Yes!" Then I remembered my disease. It causes me to have severe inner ear/balance problems, especially in wide open and unfamiliar places. I started thinking about the open stadium, all those stairs, all those people I'd inevitably be bumping into...literally.

Screw it. I'm going anyway. I'll hold tight to my sister's arm like an invalid, whether she likes it or not, and stumble my way slowly to our seats. (Actually, I don't think she'll mind.) I'll be fine once I sit down and don't have to move much...

Anne is right. We might have to suffer some discomfort or a few personal indignities, but when people reach out like that, we have to try and find a way or they'll stop asking. You should take Anne's advice about solving the bathroom issue and go. No one will know but you. Have a good time!

--Linda

awb said...

Linda - You are so right, screw it all, I'm going sky diving! OK, I'll start a bit slower, and what was the concert?

awb

Anonymous said...

Carole King and James Taylor. In June. In Boston. Hope I make it...plan to make a Baltimore trip before then. Mother's Day, perhaps? I hope so. I love Baltimore. 4th of July, Inner Harbor--fantastic. My son has lived there now for over 8 years.

--Linda, Connecticut Yankee

Slammermike said...

Sky Diving!! Now there is a mental picture. You screaming to earth and have to go. Look Out below.

You could carry a bottle with you in the car. Or just hire a Piss Boy

awb said...

Work, work, work!