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And to think I thought I had a lot of free time! (course, I did read the whole damn thing...<G>) -----Original Message----- From: bdi@bd*.co*.au* [mailto:bdi@bd*.co*.au*] Sent: Tuesday, February 01, 2000 2:26 AM To: Steve Hogan; cmilz@mi*.ed*; Steve Hogan Cc: techdiver@aquanaut.com Subject: RE: Catheters was: stadiumpal At 11:38 1/02/00 , Steve Hogan wrote: >Claudia, > >Never had this problem myself. I had the other problem of trying on a size >(first time) that was too small. My wife laughed her ass off. I failed to >see the humor the same way she did as it HURT! I got the next larger size >and that fixed >the problem. Not like a condom at all (the glue really makes it different) > >Regards > >Steve Not like the problem I had. I was trying on one that I though should have fit (it was a medium) and it was too big. Far too big. Where do these things come from? the land of the giants or somewhere? This thing was so big, in fact, that I lost my balance and fell right in! I braced myself for a terrific crash and some bad grazing as I hit the walls but the glue on the inside of the latex bag caught my clothing and stuck me there, trapped halfway twixt lip and tip, like a fly on flypaper. Apart from the tightness of my underpants which seemed to have assumed the role of some kind of punishment harness in some torturous sado-masochistic game, the experience was a lot less jarring than if I'd fallen in to an empty grain silo onto my head or something. Well there I was, trapped stickily inside this tough latex sheath and do you think I could free myself to reach the lip & haul myself out? No way! For some reason I was wearing a day pack when I fell which just happened to contain a couple of bottles of soda, a flask of coffee, some glucose tablets, some salt tabs, three hi-energy chocolate bars and a big bag of nuts, so I knew my diet was going to be totally fucked unless I got out of there. The pack also contained a TDI Trimix instroketor manual so if I had to wait longer than two and a half minutes for rescue, I'd be fucked for reading material too. All this bother, I thought, over a fucking uri-dom. Next time I'll just piss in my pants in the car on the way to the dive site like the long-term deep air heroes with their 'bone leisions of bravery' do, and then I won't have to worry about these ridiculous condom catheter dramas. My predicament brought back memories of a previous incident where I slipped and fell heavily while pulling on a shoulder entry drysuit, plunging in through the zip and sliding all the way down into the left boot, sustaining some pretty nasty friction burns on the way (safety note: always use LOTS of talc when putting on your drysuit). It took me three and a half days to hike back out of that little pickle. I could have made it in two but I took a wrong turn in the darkness, missed the zipper entry, and ended up transitting the right arm and exiting through the wrist seal, exhausted but alive! I don't know about you, but when faced with a dire emergency such as this, I believe it is important to have a PLAN. Without a plan, a man (and I don't mean 'man' in a sexist way, I just doubt a woman would find herself in the particular predicament of falling arse over tip into a condom catheter a zillion sizes too big) as I was saying, without a plan, a man tends to exist but a hair's-breadth from emotional breakdown and blubbering hysteria. But WITH a plan a man has support, a foundation, some- thing big and solid to cling to - like the mast of a sinking ship - while you watch your life turn to shit and you die screaming. SO I figured that before I broke into frenzied activity, I would hang there stuck to the inside wall of that too big condom, doi some deep breathing excercises, eat a chocolate bar and work out a PLAN. The first plan was duly thought out. It comprised the idea to hang here and consume another chocolate bar and see if a better plan presented itself. No luck. Thre chocolate bars a bag of nuts two bottles of soda and a thermos flask of coffee later, still no better plan. The back of my underpants were now pressing uncomfortably right up into the crack of my arse and the first beads of the sweat of panic moistened my forehead. I also had all these little bits of nuts stuck between my teeth. I hated that most of all. Fuck this, I thought. I wish Jeffrey Swann was here. He could cheer us up with a few condom jokes. He likes condom jokes. He even wrote to the techdiver list to tell everybody how much he liked them. It takes all sorts, I suppose. It was just as I was speculating on the size of the brain of the Darwinian Swann that I began to feel the beginnings of a certain tension in the bladder as when half a gallon of soda, urged on by a big hit off caffein, decides to make its initial run through the nether regions before bursting out into the open in a paroxysm of relief before describing a graceful golden arc into the white porcelain throat of the septic goddess Vitreous. The thought started as a mere flicker. A rubbing together of no more than two or three brain cells in some obscure back water of the cerebellum. But before two minutes had passed, the thought of urinating had taken hold of my mind and inhabited every nook and crany of my being. I wanted to be free. I wanted to get out of there. I wanted to be unglued from the wall of the condom catheter. I wanted a million dollars and a mansion with big pillars at the front in Florida, I wanted love, good health, peace on earth and good will to all men (and women). I wanted an end to world poverty, divine grace and life ever after. But more than all of that, I WANTED TO PISS!!! I began to sob quietly. ----------------------------------author's note----------------- Guys, I have to go away on a shoot for a couple of days. If you like, I'll tell you the rest of this tragic and frightening story when I get back. The ending will shock you. The thought of it is terrifying me right now. rgrds billyw -- Send mail for the `techdiver' mailing list to `techdiver@aquanaut.com'. Send subscribe/unsubscribe requests to `techdiver-request@aquanaut.com'.
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