“Splish, Splash, I Was Takin’ A Bath…”

A while ago I thought that the unthinkable had happened when our dishwasher packed in. But now the unthinkable really has happened – after weeks of playing start/stop tricks on us, our walk-in shower has well and truly walked out. It’s not as big a disaster as it might be, after all, we do have a bath. However, as you may recall, my MS is not at all compatible with splashing around in a bathtub. Putting me into a tub of warm water has much the same effect as placing a live lobster into a pan of boiling water.*

While we wait for a plumber to respond to my desperate pleas for help we shall have to make do with sploshing around in baby bath-time bubbles and washing our hair in a shower-less tub. And we must do so with big smiles on our faces, after all, we’re often trying to convince our reluctant children that having a bath is the most fun thing ever…

Of course, having a bath should be fun, indeed it would be fun were it not for my dastardly MS. The moment my feet touch the water a surge of pain shoots through my body. My legs become dead weights and my arms become tired, heavy and slow, which makes lathering and sluicing all the more taxing. I do try to make bath time as quick and painless as possible, but it is awfully difficult when your body has been taken over by something resembling a sloth and you are accompanied by a gaggle of kids to boot.

For most people having a bath is the height of luxury and I wish it were for me – I love the idea of slipping elegantly into a tub overflowing with scented bubbles, surrounded by a sea of candles and soothing plinky plonky music playing gently in the background. I would, of course, have a glass of wine in my hand and a cushion to lay back on; ahhhh, bliss!

The reality, however, is quite the opposite. Aside from the pain and the physical hurdles, I end up sitting in a puddle of lukewarm water with bubbles that refuse to bubble. The door, which I can’t lock for fear of being trapped if I need help, will be bashed open by forceful little hands, fully exposing me to anyone who happens to be loitering on the landing as well as letting in an unwelcome draught. Where I am used to 1 or 2 little noses squished up against the shower screen, I am now faced with a full-blown audience of children and cats all vying for my attention. The only background music I get is the sound of crying, whinging and the occasional blood-curdling scream of, “Mummy!” Instead of a glass of wine, I find myself holding a toy dinosaur, a soggy biscuit (?!) and a Viking rubber duck (purchased on our latest trip to the Land of the Vikings). And twice now I have found myself sharing the tub with my children, who clearly can’t bear to miss out on all this bath time fun, and who seem to think the bath is some kind of Tardis that can accommodate no end of people and toys.

Roll on, Plumber!

* See previous post ‘There’s Nothing Like Relaxing In A Nice Hot Bath’: https://thewibblydinosaur.com/2018/06/14/theres-nothing-like-relaxing-in-a-nice-hot-bath/