At My Odd Sock, our investigative team (me) zeros in on the minutiae of multiple sclerosis details, turning over the smallest pebbles of information, so you can enjoy your chronic disease to the fullest!

I dress for (bladder) success.

Today, we turn our attention to the bathroom.

Multiple Sclerosis does a number on the bladder by playing with its mind.  By attacking the brain, MS disrupts the nerve impulses from your excretory system..toying with your urgency to go..teasing your control..making a mockery of everything you learned by the time you were three years old.

In essense, MS is potty training’s “badguy.”

I am Sitting Bull.  Most guys can go anytime.  Anywhere.  Not me.  Due to my MS, going while standing up is nearly impossible.  

Balance issues.  Fatigue.  And aim?…Forget about it!  Therefore, I sit when I pee.  Yes, I pee like a girl.  My need to “sit-down” sometimes makes going difficult, especially at sporting events.  Men’s bathrooms are typically wall to wall “urinal city.”  And with only one or two stalls, I have to wait my turn.  I end up lurking around like I’m ex-senator Larry Craig looking for a date!

My bladder GPS

If you build it, they will go.  I think my “manstuff” has some type of built-in sensor, like a urological GPS unit.  It knows when a product of American Standard is nearby.  And the closer I get—the more urgent is the call!  Sometimes the urge is so strong, I begin the whole “unsnapping, unbuckling & unzipping” process as I walk through our garage.  “Clear the way, Dad’s home!” can be heard upon my arrival. 

I warn you, be prepared though, as the “festivities of going” usually begin as soon as your foot crosses the treshhold of the bathroom.  Your little soldier figures “Hey, I’m in the war-zone, might as well fire the first shot!”  In war, many battles have been won using this strategy—and in the bathroom, many pants have been soiled.

Where the Green Grass grows.  The other day I was pulling weeds from our flowerbed when a call came in from the bladder.  I had to quickly assess the situation….Would I be able to shuffle all the way back into the house?  Probably not.  So I looked around.  My house blocked any view in front of me.  Check.  A garbage can blocked the view from across the street.  Check.  My neighbor’s shed covered my rear flank.  Check.  While my neighbor’s to my left were so far back, they would never be able to see anything.  Check.

Next, I had to conduct a spit-second architectual survey of the ground flow.  Which direction would the spillover go?  Check.

Then, I had to assume the position.  Already on my knees, I fully extended my right leg touching the ground at the toe only.  My right arm served as my foundation to the front.  My left leg was bent under me, touching the ground at both the knee and the toe.  It’s fairly obvious that my left arm/hand would do the “Steve Irwin” dirty work.  Yes, it was both degrading and humiliating, I know.

Oh hell, it’s just easier to take a picture….

Dramatization. No grass was killed in the taking of this picture.

 Even more embarrassing–was this photo shoot!…

 There you have it.  Another look into the shallow, porcelain bowl of life as someone with MS.  

Put your money back in your pocket fella, this dribble is on me.