The inconvenience of my existence to anarcho-primitivists, collapsists and doomer-preppers

This post is for the attention of the people mentioned in the title. A sizeable minority of whom seem to be relishing the prospect of what they think will be at least a partial societal collapse as a result of the closure of the Strait of Hormuz. A closure that’s a consequence of the reckless, ill considered attack by Israel and the US on Iran. A closure that’s cutting off twenty percent of the oil supplies the modern world needs to keep functioning. A closure that could well start to disrupt the supply of many plastic based products derived from that oil. These include plastic based medical products, some of which I rely upon to keep functioning as normally as possible.

This is quite a personal post and I make no apologies for it. Should it result in me losing a few more subscribers and followers, so be it. It’s about an issue that’s dogged me for over two years. It’s about what can technically be described as a disability. Not an obvious, visible disability but a hidden one that can prove to be a bit life limiting at times.

Here’s how I got to the situation I’m in now. At the end of 2023, I was experiencing some nasty urinary tract issues. These came about as a result of a stricture in my urethra caused by an injury sustained back in 1988. An injury that since then has caused some occasional issues. In the early part of 2024, it was deemed necessary that I had to have a urethral dilation. This is something that I thought would be pretty routine and that after ten days living with an indwelling catheter post procedure, upon its removal I would be able to urinate normally again.

Come the trial without catheter day at the hospital, after having the indwelling catheter removed, I was instructed to start drinking water to see if I could urinate without any problems. Easy I thought as I sipped at the water reading the paper to pass the time. Come the time when my bladder was full, I tried to urinate naturally and nothing happened. I tried quite a few times and nothing happened. The urology nurses concluded that I would need to be using intermittent, disposable catheters for some time to come. With a bladder full to bursting, after being instructed on the procedure of inserting the catheter, I then did so and the feeling of relief was almost indescribable. However, I wasn’t going to be let go at that point. I had to drink more water, fill up my bladder again and then show the assembled urology nurses that I could use disposable catheters up to six times a day without any issues. I managed to achieve this and was sent home with a box of disposable catheters and the contact number for the outsourced health provider who would be supplying them.

Trust me, I have tried everything I can to be able to urinate naturally again. I really do not want to be in a situation where I’m reliant on external suppliers to provide the catheters and other related items I need to empty my bladder. I also don’t want to have to be reliant on the external supplies of the D-Mannose supplements I need to fend off bladder and urinary tract infections. Whatever I tried didn’t work and here I am, reliant on a healthcare system that I don’t trust to provide me with what I need to function. Needless to say, with the amount of disposable catheters I use along with the disposal bags, wipes and antiseptic hand cleaners, my environmental credentials are shot to pieces.

Quite what some of the anarcho-primitivists, the collapsists and the doomer-preppers would have to say about my total reliance on a range of disposable plastic products and a supply chain that cannot be allowed to fail is something I would like an honest answer to. As much as I may personally want to rail against modern civilisation at times, I’m now in a position where I’m utterly reliant upon it for my survival. Any failures in the manufacturing and supply chain that would stop me getting the disposable catheters I need, would lead to consequences that don’t bear thinking about.

I’ll freely admit that over the last two years, thinking too deeply about these consequences has led to to some pretty bleak moments. Whether the anarcho-primitivists, the collapsists and the doomer-preppers would even consider my plight is open to question. Not least because somehow, I suspect my existence and total dependence upon a healthcare system they despise is an inconvenient disruption to their purist beliefs and dare I say it, ableist assumptions. One of the reasons I’m writing this post is to get them to face up to the consequences of their rhetoric on the current state of my mental health, which thanks to these f**kers, is not in a good place.

Well, we’re now getting closer to a clusterf**k situation as a result of the closure of the Strait of Hormuz. Oil supplies are being impacted. Oil doesn’t just run vehicles. As previously mentioned, it’s the feedstock for a wide range of products we rely upon, including plastics. The plastics that are used to manufacture the disposable catheters and the associated disposal bags that I now have to totally rely upon. Suffice to say that since the start of this poxy conflict, I’ve had more than my fair share of sleepless nights wondering just what the heck will happen to me should my supply of catheters be seriously disrupted or even terminated because of the forecast shortages of plastics to come.

A situation that’s not been helped by reading what the prepping community recommends that people do in order to deal with the clusterf**k we’re heading towards. None of which have bothered to acknowledge the situation faced by people like me who are totally dependent on an external supply of plastic medical products for our survival. This isn’t just the doomer preppers who have access to acres of land in a remote part of the Appalachian Mountains. It’s also the supposedly ‘normal’ preppers who have been expecting the start of the collapse of Western civilisation for some time to come now. It would seem that the needs of people like me are an inconvenient interruption to their fantasy of re-building after the collapse. A re-building I won’t be taking any part in because if my supply of catheters is terminated in a collapse scenario, I simply will not be around.

Inevitably, this is leading to feelings of despair. That’s despair at not having my predicament, and that of others in my position acknowledged. That’s also the despair of knowing that if the worst case scenarios predicted by some of the doomers turn out to be true, then my time on this mortal coil is somewhat limited. It’s despair at the number of ableist commentators and pundits out there who would see my demise as a result of not being able to access the catheters I need as mere ‘collateral damage’. It’s turning out that in a situation like the one we’re facing, I’m finding out who my real friends and allies are, and who the self serving grifters with an agenda are. It has been a painful and depressing process.

Over the last few weeks, this feeling has become particularly acute. That’s to the point of questioning why I’m still carrying on as an activist if I may only have a limited amount of time left. After reading a few too many posts from doomer preppers, I came close to jacking it in. I thought that if the worst of the doomsday scenarios is likely to play out, I’d be better off spending my time living life as fully as my disability allows and not worry about blogging and posting any more. It was only the fact that we now have the At the Grassroots papers back from the printer and which are now being distributed that has stopped me from quitting.

Again, I make no apologies for the personal nature of this post. There’s been a lot building up to this and I felt that now was the time to get it off my chest, ascertain who my real friends and allies are, then move forwards as best I can. There are times when being open and honest about a situation is the best approach. This is one of those times. As previously mentioned, if posting this loses me subscribers and followers, so be it. There’s more to life than chasing approval. Summer beckons and I want to get out there and live it like it may be my last one with no regrets.!