My Journey with Intermittent Self-Catheterisation (ISC)

If you were to ask me about intermittent self-catheterising, I’d say it saved my life. But if you were to ask me on a deeper level, I’d say that whilst it has given me freedom, it is a physically and mentally demanding task that sometimes feels like a lot to carry. You see, we have a bit of a love/hate relationship, me and ISC. It’s been almost 5 years since I was taught how to do it and yet I could recall every second of that appointment like it was yesterday. Every demonstration from the nurse felt too quick, every thought of doing this myself felt too daunting. Every successful attempt filled me with exhilaration, relief and a deep dread at the thought of doing this forever.

But the thing about ISC, much like with most things in life, is the more you do it the better you become. And the better you become the more confidence you have. I’ve found that my relationship with it isn’t linear because life isn’t linear, and there always seems to be a new first. The first time you ISC with a queue outside the public toilet, the first time you do it on a cramped, tiny airplane toilet, the first time you do it a little wrong and you think you’ll never get it right again. But then there’s the moments when you do it in 30 seconds flat and are then able to carry on with life like nothing’s happened.

For me, there are some moments – that are increasingly rarer now – that feels like ISC is a constant reminder that my life is a little tougher than the average in that respect. But most of the time, 5 years on, I’m filled with incredible relief that I have a tool that can empty my bladder when I can’t. That allows me to live my normal life without regular hospital visits or permanent catheters, that ISC takes minutes (or less when I’m in a rush and feeling cocky).

If I could go back to my younger self, self-catheterising for the first time; firstly, I’d give her a massive hug. Secondly, I’d tell her she’s going in at the wrong angle and she needs to aim further forward. But finally, I’d say that this isn’t the end of life as she knows it, it’s the beginning of a new chapter. One filled with more tiny little plastic tubes and anti bac wipes but with much less uncertainty and fear of spontaneously going into retention. Previous me would never believe that this could ever feel like a normal life but it can, and for me I’m very lucky to say that it does.

Of course there are going to be moments when it makes life tough, like when I swapped bags and forgot to put my catheters in and ended up calling my poor brother to trudge across London to come and meet me with a bag of catheters because I’d gone into retention. Or when my 1 year old is climbing up my legs as I’m trying to do it because telling her to wait a second would cause the mother of all tantrums. But that’s life isn’t it? There are ups and downs and you have to make the most of the good times.

A few years back I started calling my ability to ISC a super power and if I’m completely honest, I think I was mostly trying to convince myself of this more than anyone else. But now I say it with confidence, with pride, with sincerity. And a true belief that ISC’ing doesn’t make me less, it actually makes me so much more.