Well this week I had a rather embarressing consequence at the job centre.
But go back to last week first. . . . . . .
For starters, my 'condition' was given yet another new name last week when I visited my Urologist at my local Hostpital to give me the results of recent tests I had.
I now have a 'genetic regressive sensory deprivation condition' and get to ride in the big polo mint at the General Hospital for my next upcomming adventure.
It pays to have a sense of humour believe me!
Those guys that invent these tests to find out what's wrong must come from the dungeon fetishist brigade or something!
The test where they lay you down on a bed and shove a pressure probe up your backside and a catherter up yer Uthererererere (how do you stop spelling that word?)
Then they fill you with salt water and sit back to wait to see what you'll do next, all the while you're are concentrating on a small stain on the ceiling to avoid the embarressed smile of the cute little nurse thats assisting in the procedures!
The urologist kept asking me to cough while consulting a tv monitor full of squiggly lines while saying ''can you feel anything yet?''
And then he went into a discussion with the nurse over the top of me about how the tests they were currently subjecting me to were not represenative of my condition and so basically useless???
I can't tell when I'm full see or control when I go!
You ought to try it sometime, it's great fun!
I heartily recommend it, its much more fun than just wearing! hahahahahaaaa!
At least this time they didn't drag my nappy and plastic pants off me while I was trying to get them down for an examination! (there hangs another tale )
When my Urologist had got bored he asked me if I would oblige and pee in the full he indicated waaay over in the corner of the room.
I knew that as soon as I moved (from experience) that I would start to wee quite freely!
I jumped off the bed and just managed to reach a funnel afore piddling all over the place! (This neat gadget measures your flow rate and how much you pass.)
I was still plugged into the catherter and pressure probes still dangling below my dressing gown while weeing but I was no longer connected to the machine.
When I'd finished the probes etc were grasped and whipped out while I was unawares (aparently to reduce the stress of the wearer rather like you would by pulling an old battered plaster form the arm of a child!).
Any way the results came back as I said, the guy told me that they had pumped 500ml into me during the test, and then proceeded to let me know that I'd peed out 800ml afterwards!
This basically means I have a bladder the size of a bucket but because I empty fully most of the time, nothing can be done for me.
Most blokes would be hopping around cross legged crying & dying in agony at just 250ml in their bladder while I can hold gallons without so much as a twinge!
They won't operate unless my condition proves dangerous to my health lol.
Not that I want them to, I quite happy in a nappy, I've lived with this 17 years so I'm used to it hehehehe.
But I digress . . . . . . . . . . .
Back to the cat, we have 5 in our home and all love to sit on plastic bags and go to sleep.
I left my bedroom door open and a pair of plastic pants on the bed . . . . guess what?
One of my moggies was fast asleep on the pair of pants I intended to use so she was duly shoved off, the cat slunked off in a sulk at having been disturbed and left we with a rather warm pair of plastic pants.
Off to the job centre I trotted and was left in the waiting room to wait my turn. Not suprisinly, I piddled in me pants but this was of no concern to me as I do this trick all the time.
But I have formed the habit of looking back at where I've been sat just in case.
And lo and behold there was a rather large wet spot but no-one had noticed it, as the seats have dark blue cloth on them but I felt rather squelshy down below!
But I couldn't help wondering what the face of the next person to sit in my seat would look like, which gave me some amusement to counter my embarressment? hahahahahaa
I swallowed my pride and followed the guy who'd come to collect me for my interview.
He offered me a seat at his desk and sat down himself, then looked at me gone out as I refused his offer!
I had to explain in hushed tones how I'd peed myself and my protection had failed me.
You know how in an open plan office, where everyone is really busy but their ears are always highly tuned into the hint of gossip?
And everything goes soo quiet so that you could hear a pin drop at 50 miles distant at the sound of brand new juicy news?
I could have died! hehehheheeeee
And you look around and the whole place is suddenly a hive of busyness with heads down to avoid your stare?
Still the outcome is that I'm booked into an appointment with a nice lady trained to deal with the crippled jobless of our society so watch this space!
The moral of this tale is;
Don't let your moggy sleep on your rubber/plastic pants as they'd be more use as a colender afterwards!