The Bladder That Keeps On Giving

Have you ever noticed how often you want to go to the loo when you can’t walk properly? When even a short ten-foot journey to the bathroom is an endless distance and unspeakable agony for every inch of it? And it was going to the loo that got me into this predicament in the first place.

I’m on holiday. I knew it was a bad idea and I said so. I told them. Many, many times. God doesn’t give us laptops so we can frivolously abandon them to gallivant half way across the world for unjustified and unauthorly enjoyment. I warned them. I said it would end badly. And it did.

The first day was fine. I did the traditional tourist thing. There was sun and meeting friends and a glass of wine and a nice lunch and I was beginning to think my misgivings had been completely unjustified. I’d even been able to write a couple of sneaky paragraphs in the bathroom when no one was looking and then – this morning, I had a bit of an incident.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re all reading the previous paragraph and thinking – Wine? Daft bat! Sloshed again.

Well, it was just after breakfast and even I can’t drink wine at breakfast. I’ve tried. It didn’t end well.

Anyway, having gorged myself on everything in sight and drunk three cups of tea, obviously a visit to the facilities was called for. Asking for directions, a charming young man indicated ‘just over there’ and while I was craning my neck to see where ‘just over there’ was, I fell the colossal distance of four whole inches and wrenched my foot. I mean we are talking black football here.

I was helped to my feet by an enormous number of charming young men – because that’s what it takes to get me on my feet these days – although I wasn’t complaining. It was almost equal to the occasion when I looked up and six young men were climbing in through my bedroom window just prior to rescuing me from the flash flood doing its best to wash our cottage away. I can’t tell you how many fantasy boxes that ticked, but back to the diseased foot.

It’s agony. Six hours later, it still hurt like hell. It’s still swollen now, but with blue rather than black bruising, which is interesting and coordinates rather nicely with my top.

I’m surviving on a mixture of Ibuprofen and Pringles and I’m alternately either too sleepy to think straight, or in unbearable agony depending on which point of the pain cycle I’ve reached. They are very strong painkillers and amazingly effective. The pain is still excruciating but I’m feeling very cheerful about it.

And, of course, because I can barely even move my leg, I’m up and down to the bathroom every ten minutes because I’m the proud owner of the bladder that just keeps on giving.

I am never going on holiday again. Ever. Never going to happen. And because I don’t have my laptop with me you won’t get the chance to read this until next week. Many of you may be able to combine it with attending my memorial service, because I’m not going to survive this. I always thought it would be the Accent Electrodes that did for me and I would expire in a shower of sparks, clumsy metaphors and explosive punctuation, but it was the holiday that got me in the end.

Farewell, cruel world …

Actually, there’s been a bit of a renaissance. My chemically induced haze of goodwill produced a tiny idea for a Max, Markham and Peterson story. Just a couple of hundred words. I’ll get it typed up and maybe post it tomorrow …

I shall call it ‘Markham and the Anal Probing,’ because that won’t give Accent Press anything to worry about at all …

29 thoughts on “The Bladder That Keeps On Giving

  1. Heartfelt sympathy! Last September I fell off my daughter’s patio and ended up with concussion and a broken hip – and no, I wasn’t drunk either. One lesson I learned is that when asked by a stern-faced nurse in A&E, ‘What year is it?’ you should not cheerfully say, ‘Oh, I dunno. About 1900? And surely the Boer War must have finished by now?’ Didn’t go down well, so the rule is: never, ever make jokes when you’re on a trolley in A&E!

  2. Great post! Hope you get well soon. I once tripped over my landlady’s cat and broke a toe. 4 hours in A&E and one x-ray later confirmed broken toe and was then given a lolly stick and a bandage and told to bandage two toes together …. moral of the story – don’t bother A&E with just a broken toe 🙂 – which, by the way, i think is fair enough. Looking forward to the Markham post!

  3. Know that feeling. Just broke my foot while feeding the hummingbirds. Fell off a short wall (alcohol boy involved). Although, I do believe a sprained ankle is more painful. Hope you have heeled by now. PS-I wouldn’t give up vacations!

  4. Sorry you suffered on holiday – or should that be a holiday? Looking forward to the drug-enhanced offering, however; as they say, every cloud, etc etc. Hope the foot soon feels better, though maybe continuation of the meds may be advantageous…

  5. Definitely sound like not only do St Marys live in your mind but your whole body has been taken over by them. Hugs and hope you make a quick and full recovery. xxx

  6. I do sympathise but I once broke my big toe by dropping a newly baked chocolate cake on it! That’s how the family story is always told by my darling stepchildren – the truth includes the cake being on a China plate badly balanced in the fridge, which toppled out onto my foot as I opened the door! The steppies (bless their greedy wee hearts) who broke all records saving the cake from hitting the floor, and stuffed their wee faces as I sat on the floor rocking back and forward hugging my poor foot, are now 29 and 30 – but still tell the story at the drop of a cake crumb!

    • Arising out of the comments above, I once broke two toes in Harrogate falling into a Ceanothus while chasing the DHL man down the road in a nightie. Broken toes are very painful and you never get any sympathy.

  7. I know exactly how you feel, I already take the worlds supply of pain killers and had to have a camera view my kidney – obviously they used a 55″ Wide Screen HD ready, TV/camera with a Jack hammer to help it up threw the route. Any way when I came round from the anesthetic I found that if I needed to pee which was every 5mins it was like razor blades. I went in with Blood in my urine and came out with urine in my blood. On top of which they did not bother to tell me that the pain would last for 2 weeks, as they took 4mm of my Kidney away. As I walk with crutches to begin with, you can imagine the speed that I travel and the speed of the urine which wants to come down the now 6 lane express, with razor blades still. Sadly the toilet is upstairs and along a long landing, just perfect. So yep know how you feel. fabulous.

    • Oh no, Linda. Huge sympathies. I should really stop complaining, shouldn’t I. At least one day I will have two normal feet.

  8. Oh goodness me. I do hope your foot is quite well now. But it was worth waiting a week to read this, especially as I didn’t actually know I was waiting for it. I love the sound of the new Max/Markham story, it sounds as if it will be especially funny.

    • It’s just a couple of hundred words of drug induced ramblings. Rather like the bloke who wrote Kubla Khan under the influence of something cheerful but not anything like as good. I’m now maxed out (no pun intended) on Beecham’s powders because the man behind me on the plane home coughed and coughed and coughed and now I’m coughing and coughing and coughing … I will never go on holiday again.

  9. On a miserable rainy Saturday morning in Aus thanks for the giggle Jodi I do hope you are feeling somewhat better by now. I love being a member of St Mary’s.

    • Yes, thank you. Much better now. Still black, blue, red, green and yellow, but tiny areas of pink are beginning to show through. Like looking at the sunrise through a pig’s bladder. Are you ahead of us? It’s Saturday 20th here. Did you have your Saturday on the 19th? I should probably stop taking so many painkillers …

  10. It’s horrible being I’ll/injured at the best of times but worse when you’re on holiday. I once caught chicken pox in Yugoslavia. Nightmare.

  11. I am sorry that you are gimpy. Why is it when you are hurt it is never something you want to talk about? Something like, “I was rescuing an infant and a cannon ball fell on my foot”. I had a terrible knee energy when I was young and I got it stepping over a foot high barrier to sooth a fussy toddler cousin. Yes, just stepping and I put my foot down wrong enough to hurt my knee. I think we should be allowed to invent causes for our small disasters that can entertain a crowd who hover around peeling grapes, smoothing the hair from your brow and bringing you cool or hot drinks. That would at least balance out the misery a bit.

    I need to write reviews on your audible books now that I have read them all. That includes your latest with the outrageous cliffhanger ending. I hope while you are recovering you come up with another Throckmorton Farm book. I also read your romance which is the only romance I have ever loved. That includes Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. There is no romance in my soul. But “A Bachelor’s Establishment” I adored. You have me by the heart strings and the belly laugh initiator with every book you write. Therefore I look forward to a rich writing future for you and agree that you should not go on vacation. I was stationed in Greece and that was lovely but vacations always involved strange rashes, insect bites or minor injuries.

    Hope you are feeling better soon and that your bed is moved closer to the loo.


    • I do apologize for using energy for injury. It is one of the blessings of fibromyalgia that serves to keep me a tiny bit humble.
      Gillian again.

  12. Speaking philosophically, Jodi, pain is a reminder that you’re still alive. Personally, I would have preferred ecstasy, but it is what it is. And I have enough metal in my body these days to dread airport security.

    Be well. You are missed.

    And, BTW, if you don’t clarify the “Ronan was (killed/not killed) confusion in the next edition of the saga, we’re going to kidnap you, secure you and make you watch endless Gilligan’s Island reruns…without any tea. It’s making some of us crazy…or crazier!!!!

    Sleep well. 🙂

  13. Heartfelt sympathies, I feel your pain. I really do, especially since, whilst I was recovering from a badly -broken ankle (suffered on top of an extinct volcanic cone in Auckland whilst breaking up a dog fight) a very dear Sri-Lankan friend sent me a delicious spicy curry to help me enjoy respite from my husband’s attempts at cooking.
    Have you ever tried rushing to the loo on a Zimmerman frame, only for it to fail to gain purchase on unseen moisture on the bathroom floor? The resulting concussion caused by knocking myself out on the toilet pedestal whilst completely alone in the house was not a pretty sight, nor were the bruised ribs arising from landing across the Zimmer frame.
    My advice to you is, never eat curry when you don’t have two reliable legs. By the way, visitors just don’t sympathise at all when you try to explain why can’t sit up straight.
    Best wishes, Ann Hawkins

    • Oh God, Ann, that’s terrible. However bad things get for me, I’m never going to end up unconscious on the bathroom floor having been attacked by my own Zimmer frame. I hope you gave it a stiff talking to afterwards. It doesn’t seem to have grasped it’s role in the great scheme of things at all. And breaking up a dog-fight on an extinct volcano in Auckland is just so Monty Pythonesque … Does anyone else ever feel life is far stranger than fiction? Best wishes, Jodi.

  14. I hope your foot is better! I swear I’d rather break my ankle than sprain it. I’ve sprained my ankle many times (I’m tall and clumsy) and broken it once (the pregnant bladder versus platform sandals and a wooded area). The break was less painful by far.

    I’m a huge fan and can’t stop reading and listening to your writing!

Comments welcome - but not spam!