You Have Not a Leg to Stand On Read Online Free PDF Page B

I was naked. He put on a pair of rubber gloves. He took hold of the end of my penis, pulled it straight up in the air and washed it, and my testicles, with a wad of cotton wool and disinfectant. He lay it down on a piece of paper from a roll. Then he opened a little jar which had a brush on the inside of the lid. On the brush was a thick white substance which he proceeded to paint along the length of my upheld penis I said, ‘What’s that?’ He said, ‘Glue.’ I said, ‘Glue?’ He said, ‘Yes, glue.’ He took care to paint all the skin without any gaps. He then lay it back on the paper, he opened a little flat packet, and out fell what I thought looked like a condom. I said ‘What’s that?’ He said, ‘A condom.’ I said, ‘A condom?’ He said, ‘Yes, a condom.’ I thought, ‘I’m going to have to stop asking questions.’ He then opened another little packet and out fell what looked like a small hard white plastic valve open at each end. He pushed that on the inside of the unrolled condom, then he picked up a short piece of rubber tubing, about six inches long. This he pushed over the hard white plastic valve, with the condom over it, fixing the tube, the valve and condom together. He then pulled my sticky white penis up, as long as he could, with the condom rolled over the head, then carefully rolled the rest of the condom down the length, covering all the glue. He squeezed it gently to make sure there were no air gaps. He then withdrew an ordinary sewing needle from a pincushion on the tray and carefully pushed it through the rubber tubing just above the hard white valve, to break the condom which had been pulled tight inside. He then attached the other end of the rubber tube to a long clear plastic tube with a litre bag on the end. He attached that to a wire holder which he hung on the frame of the bed. He then tapped my lower gut, just above the bladder, ten or twelve times, then pushed his fist, quite heavily into where he’d been tapping.The urine spurted out through this extraordinary collection of plumbing, and into the bag hanging on the side of the bed. He said, ‘You must fill that,’ pointing to the bag, ‘twice a day.’ He had a strong Moroccan accent, ‘Now we teach you how to shit.’
    Sister Rose’s chocolate sauce caused a stench so foul, it cannot be matched anywhere on earth. My gut and everyone else’s gut had to be emptied completely every second day, and the only place it could be emptied, was here, in this bed. It was emptied every second day to train it to be ready to empty itself when a suppository was shoved in by me, then empty itself while sitting on the loo.
    All during this awful, dreadful time, my wonderful little wife was with me whenever she could be. Even when I was asleep in the day, after the torment of the chocolate sauce, I’d wake up and she’d be there. She was living in a B&B nearby, and her mother had lent her, her car. Her mother, who you would have thought would be aghast at her lovely daughter now tied to a cripple for goodness knows how long, was marvellous with her acceptance of the situation. I didn’t deserve such kindness I was getting from all those around me.
    After about ten days of enduring this torture, I was allocated a physiotherapist called Sally. She was a smiling, pretty, blond girl and very strong. We still correspond and see each other occasionally to this day.
    To even get to the loo, and sit on the bloody thing, I first had to learn to sit up and not immediately fall flat on my face, or backwards, flat on the bed. Being paralysed from the waist is exactly like expecting a pencil to stay upright when letting it go with its point on the paper. This feeling of having no control was frightening and entirely unexpected. I really didn’t think I was ever going to get it, other than holding on to something. All I had was the weight of my