When childhood memories hit a little TOO close for comfort
The days I peed myself…as an adult
One is not supposed to have bladder accidents after the age of 3 – or 5 at the latest. So imagine my shock and horror as I wet myself one morning while shopping — at the ripe old age of 32.
That day was supposed to be a happy one. I was on my way to London from Oxford, and ready to reward myself with an outfit at one swank shop on Old Bond Street. I was smartly dressed for the occasion in a princess-cut wool coat, leggings, and chic ankle boots.
Trouble started when I decided to take a different bus that morning. I had taken the Oxford Tube (OT) for long enough…why not try the other one? The problem was that it did not have a “loo” (restroom) as I expected; I was used to boarding the OT where I normally headed straight for the loo right after boarding so I wouldn’t have to worry about the rest of the ride.
When we disembarked nearly two and a half hours later, I felt an urge to go but that desire was halted in its tracks when I noticed a sale at one of my favorite department stores–Marks and Spencer. Time to scoop up some basic necessities on sale like more panties and my favorite leggings! So I spent an extra 45 minutes or so browsing.
By this time, I had to use the bathroom–badly. But since the bathroom on that floor was shut, I had to go downstairs. I was really worried at that point. As I rushed to through the door and into the stall, I prayed I would make it on time.
If I could just have twenty seconds more–but alas, the deluge started before I could even pull my leggings down. I sat there for a few minutes, deploring my lack of control and feeling like a 3-year-old all over again. Learning to hold one’s bladder, after all, is a rite of passage marking one’s development from a small child to a school-age child and in that one moment, I had regressed horribly.
My situation wasn’t completely unfortunate, however, since I had just bought some panties and leggings and was able to change. And at least, I tried to comfort myself, it was not diarrhea. But still — the irony struck me. Maybe if I hadn’t stopped to buy them, I wouldn’t have had the accident!
The stench was awful — we know adult pee is much more pungent than toddler pee. Yet, I wasn’t about to go home after having spent over 3 hours on the bus and nearly $20 on bus fare. So I had to suffer my own presence until I showered that evening.
At any rate, instead of feeling proud of finally getting that much-longed-for outfit at that Old Bond Street shop, I felt humiliated. I could barely lift my head as I paid, all too aware of the stench even though I had changed my underwear and leggings. I could imagine the salespersons wondering how this bum who reeks of urine could possibly afford to buy that! (Hopefully, they were too overjoyed with the commission to care…)
You think I would have learned a lesson by then, right? Not quite. While I definitely made a point of permanently switching to the restroom-equipped OT bus on my following jaunts to London over the next 6 years, I made the same mistake of waiting too long to go.
This time, I was with my doctoral supervisor not long before I submitted my thesis. I don’t know why, but I felt strangely uncomfortable asking to use the bathroom — just like a kid who is too scared to ask the teacher for a pass. Except I shouldn’t have since I knew her well. But I figured I could just use the one in the Covered Market which was not too many yards away from her college.
As luck would have it — the entire Covered Market had just closed for the evening. So I had to rush to the next closest place, the Oxford Union bathroom. Before I could even shut the door, the floodgates opened. I had to spend at least another 10 minutes trying to clean the puddle off the floor while hoping no one would use the bathroom because some of it had spilled into the adjoining stalls. And unlike the last time, I didn’t have any spare panties or pants so I felt even more self conscious as I took the bus home.
Fortunately, this was my last adult accident — at the age of 35. (Why did these two accidents happen during my doctorate??) This was 3 decades after my last public accident as a kindergartner. Perhaps because of this, I wound up having a disturbing dream I had not had since a very early age. Did this mishap dredge up old memories from the past?
Not long after this, the Oxford student newspapers reported a story about an undergraduate who suffered a similar accident in his college library. He had been studying so hard that he only got up at the last possible moment. Aiming for a bucket amid the bookshelves, he completely missed, leaving an unmistakable odor there for the following weeks.
I have to admit — I laughed. Part of it was just the sheer absurdity of it all where not one, but two student newspapers covered the incident, with one going into extensive details including two articles, an accompanying cartoon, and an editorial. (Yes, the Brits love bathroom humor!) What to do? Should every student be equipped with a catheter and/or a portable litter box? It is said that the poor student in question tried to mollify the librarians by bringing them flowers every week. Wow, that took guts, I thought.
Maybe I should send a copy of my first book to that Bronx library where I had a public accident as a toddler. “Hope this makes up for the mess you had to clean up 50 years ago when I was there!”
Of course, none of this is a laughing matter when you consider the number of adults with incontinence. Supposedly over 15% of men over the age of 20 suffer from it while even more women do: a whopping 69% with problems becoming more urgent after middle age. Yet even younger people can have problems under the wrong circumstances. I began to hear more than a few stories from women around my age: for instance, a friend who was caught in a traffic jam for several hours and wet herself in the restaurant bathroom upon arrival. Even worse, there was the case of a driver who did a number 2 while stuck on the highway.
What can one do — especially if one is in a car? Equip seats with bags? And what if stores and restaurants won’t let you use their restrooms? Perhaps this is why there are public toilets on the sidewalks in many parts of Europe — for those moments you waited just a bit too long. So when a public toilet in Paris started playing Elvis’ “It’s now or never,” the choice couldn’t have been more appropriate!* Better an accident there than elsewhere!
*It has occurred to me that ABBA’s “Waterloo” would be a savvy choice too. “Ohh-oh-oh-oh Waterloo, finally facing my Water-LOO!”
#Monthly Theme #July #Memories
