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Resistance May Be Futile, but the Borg Taught Me Something

Multiple sclerosis (MS) has forced me to accept this sneaky ability to constantly “adapt.” I’m also sneakily writing about science fiction so as not to reveal too early that this is yet another column about poo!

Now, MS has imposed even more changes over the past few weeks. Not even the vegan diet can conquer it!


The anal catheter has made a triumphant return. I can’t even get onto the toilet. I can’t lift my bum far enough onto my commode to slip it into the requisite repository. You try thinking up clean analogies!

I simply remove the poo-catcher in the shower (my commode is also a shower chair, which is very handy) and insert the anal catheter. Ah, so easy. I should have thought of this before!

My steed in a crime scene reconstruction! (Courtesy of John Connor)

Hold on, cowboy. There is a downside. Even with help, there is absolutely no time after the eruption that dislodges the catheter to replace the poo-catcher. Though company is the last thing I want at this stage of my MS.


This is when I go from being the cowboy to being the horse — or the donkey. OK, the ass! I place the poo-catcher as best as I can on the floor, but with up to half a liter of lukewarm water inserted, I have the accuracy of a rodeo cowboy trying to shoot while riding a wild bull.

The first time, I missed the majority of the receptacle. But while I was trying to pick that up with a small plastic bag worn like a makeshift glove, hell’s gate opened again. There is no point in trying to control it. At this point, I can to an extent, but this only puts off the inevitable for hours. Now, I really didn’t know which way to turn.

Things haven’t improved much yet. I’ve had a couple of wins and one devastating loss.

As the Borg say, “Resistance is futile.”
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