My father in law lives in an enormous 4 floored Victorian villa, and before we arrived he'd said to me, 'will you be able to manage the stairs alright?'. Unfortunately I had rather a bad attack of false memory syndrome, 'Of course, no problem, Ill just shuffle up, it'll be fine'. Famous last words is all I can say. Id forgotten that there were 16 large steps at a 45 degree angle up to the first bedroom, so this was a challenge for the whole 4 days. A difficult challenge to be honest, feeling stupid and uncomfortable and all the time smiling through gritted teeth saying that it was all fine. NOT. There were steps all over the damn house. A few down into the morning room (pretty posh that), a few more into the kitchen, and a nightmare loo. A climb of Everestic proportions to the 2nd floor dining room. I must suffer from a bad attack of pride or something. Never ever ever will I admit its too much for me. Id rather crawl on my hands rather than admit defeat. Oh yes, forgot, I did that didn't I?
So we have realised that when doing visits its now time to stay in a hotel that I can get into. A bathroom I can use with ease, and a bed that's at least half decent and doesn't leave me totally crippled for the rest of the day once Ive woken up. ( The bed must have been the worst Ive slept in for years!).
The other problem I have with staying with people is what do I do with used catheters? I had acute embarrassment at the whole thing this w/e as my father in law isn't the type of bloke you can just wave one at and say 'what would you like me to do with this?' Ooo-Er missus!! So Ive died a thousand deaths every time Ive needed to go to the loo. Next time its going to be Travelodge.
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