See the tube on the left hand corner?  Notice it tucks into, INTO I SAY, a protective clamp so as to avoid accidental spillage? 
Hmm. 
If you can see it, and I can see it, wouldn’t you think an LVN could?  Unless…
My most crotchiest patient, possibly a transplanted Siberian prison guard, unluckily has such a catheter bag beneath his threadbare pants leg but above the knee high Dallas Cowboy athletic socks.  His eerie smile should have tipped me off.  The last time he smiled like that I had a flashback of watching ‘Poltergeist’, you know the Quaker guy who has large teeth?  For some ungodly reason, Mr. Poltergeist demands to walk first instead of the usual 15 minute argument involving me, a walker, and four ways I can go screw myself with said assistive device.
“Just hook my bag on the side there,” he instructed.
I just nod, as if I don’t do this every dang time we do walk, but much to my surprise….
Oh, yes….
As I pulled the catheter bag from its cloth hanging cover under the wheelchair, a stream of cloudy yellow urine shot out at me with such purpose, such direct aim you’d have thought he had some urine remote control with coordinates locked onto my good jeans (Fridays are jeans day). 
The rest of the day I wasn’t just Tish, oh no, I was TeeTee Tish, Queen of Urinamia.
One smartass nurse aide happened by after hearing the story which swept through the nursing home in record time, and asked loud enough for all to hear:  “You wanna diaper for next time, girl?”
Hardehahah freaking ha.