The Mitrofanoff and Me

I’ve fielded so many questions about the Mitrofanoff procedure lately that I knew I’d have write about it as soon as I could.  A lot of people seem to be in the same boat I was three years ago, looking for a way to make life better.  Others are just curious, they’re happy with their current bladder management but are wanting to know what options are out there.

First a little background on me: 

I’m a C-7 quad since 1986.  Right after my injury, I began cathing (getting cathed) in the hospital and within a year had an SP (suprapubic) tube put in.  I live an active life, travel as much as humanly possible and as a hobby keep up with everything going on in the disabled world.

You’ll often find me in a field, or a swamp, or in the woods pursuing my love of the great outdoors!

Back when I had a bladder, I was one of the lucky few that had a spastic one, meaning I would void in between caths so I had to wear this external condom-style catheter thing all the time.

The downside of an external catheter is that not only do you have to duct-tape it on using what I can only describe as industrial strength sticky glue, but somehow it still always seemed to leak.

Being a new quad and not having much hand function, it didn’t take long to see that cathing in this manner wasn’t going to work with my lifestyle.  The best alternative at the time was a suprapubic tube.  It’s still one of the best options for people with SCI who have limited hand dexterity, but after long-term use, SP tubes can become hard to live with.  At least, that was the case for me.

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Service Dogs Who Hunt

The journey began, oddly enough, in Las Vegas back in July of 2015. Sitting at a poker table at the Mirage resort, I got the text I’d been waiting on for two months. Back in Texas in the small town of Winnie, seven tiny Labrador puppies had been born, and if I wanted one, I’d have the first pick. It’d cost me a $500 deposit if I did.

As luck would have it, I left the poker table that day with more than $500, enough for a new pup and a collar or two. I couldn’t wait to get home and go see ‘em.

Chad knew Vegas was a winner the minute he met her as a puppy.

Getting into bird hunting at a young age, the idea of one day having a gun dog, a real gun dog, seemed like something for the future. It wasn’t until after my injury that I thought about getting one professionally trained – one that will stick by me in the field, be steady, obey my whistle commands and hand signals, and the most important thing to me as a wheelchair hunter… deliver to hand.

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