The sterile white of the clinic felt like a judgment, each surface reflecting the consequences of my own twisted choices. It had been my private world, a hidden experiment that had now landed me here, a specimen on a cold, hard table, a new chapter in my journey, as my body was about to betray me again.
"Welcome in," her voice echoed in my head. “Your wife has told us that you have experimented with using Foley catheters and diapers.” She added, as if I didn't know. As if I didn't understand.
“Somehow you have manage to get Foley catheters without a medical prescription.” Her tone was flat. I had been caught. I had been seen. I knew that I had to do something. But what?
The words that were to follow, were going to forever change everything about me. She held my gaze, and it was then that I knew. I was done. I was ruined.
"Unfortunately, your unsanitary conditions of using a Foley catheter is caused you a major urinary infection and caused a nother issue, leaving you enable to urinate.” She stated the facts with a detached calm, that only served to fill me with dread.
I had fallen too far. I was in the pit now.
Then came the cold, calculated instructions:
“Due to your unsanitary and constant use of catheters draining into diapers we now have to use a rather large Foley catheter. The Foley catheter is about three times the normal size you use. you may feel some discomfort upon insertion due to scar tissue of improper usage of the Foley catheter.” I could feel myself cringe. The words, so sterile, were so much more. They were a promise of more pain, more discomfort, more loss.
“We must use a larger catheter to increase the size of your urethra tube. Now the larger Foley catheter will remain in for four months to ensure urethra tube will stay widen It will not drain into a diaper anymore. It will be hooked up to a clean sterile bag." It all sounded so very wrong. So very final.
My heart sank as the details piled on, each one confirming that this was my life now, a string of medical procedures that would rewrite my very body, that this was my truth. And I was powerless to stop it.
“The larger catheter with a smaller balloon will cause your bladder to shrink after four months and muscle atrophy will sit in the spinster muscle in the neck of the bladder. Yes, you will be fully incontinent.” The words echoed in my mind. I was being turned into a doll. I was being transformed.
"And don’t you worry, you’ll still get to wear your thick diapers." She added, her tone so sweet, and so deceiving, as if it was a reward. "Your bladder may have muscle spasms in the beginning and possibly leak urine around the catheter, this will go away shortly. Another benefit of you wearing diapers is an insurance that you will not touch your penis. If we find tampering of your diapers, we have nice medical meds that we can put on you disable any usage of your hands.”
And with that, the procedure started, my life now a medical experiment, my autonomy gone, my body no longer mine. I was an empty vessel, about to be filled by them. I was defeated. I was lost.
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