Another TMI post. You’ve been forewarned.
And it’s really only for mommies, because you, dear sisters in motherhood, will know of what I speak. Things change after you've had a baby or three sit on your bladder for 9 months each.
For the past few days, I’ve been feeling a sense of urgency. Not urgency to get things done around the house. Not urgency to return phone calls. Not urgency to watch Real Housewives on the DVR.
No, I mean THAT kind of urgency.
Like, I’m in the middle of a perfectly benign conversation when all of a sudden my eyes get wide and I get all perswearty because I need to pee. Right NOW.
I am prone to Urinary Tract Infections, and I have been since I was little. I was a bed-wetter too. I just never had that sensation that I needed to go, so I would never wake up in the middle of the night. Mom would make me go to the potty at 11 pm when she went to bed, but I’d pee sometime in the night. The next morning my mom would be all annoyed that she had to change the sheets AGAIN. (Given the amount of laundry I do these days, I totally get it.)
I spent many hours at the urologist's office and I have taken my share of medication. I still, 30-some years later, remember that my medicine was yellow and I hated the taste of it. When my mother painted my bedroom a lovely sunny yellow, I cried because I associated it with that horrible-tasting medicine.
My UTIs kept recurring, however. Because I’m now a doctor . . . (not really, but I play one on TV. Okay, that’s not true either. Everyone knows if I were playing a part on TV it would be the part of Ms. Dolly Parton in the award-winning and catchy-tune-filled movie 9 to 5) . . . and I realize that holding it because I didn’t want to give up my killer hiding place in hide-and-seek was not a good strategy in regards to my weak bladder.
My point? I know better than to hold it.
But last weekend we were tailgating at a college football game and I held it so I wouldn’t have to use the porta-potty. I’m constantly holding it when I’m in the car so I won’t have to stop with a car-load of kids. And yesterday I held it while I was at Target (surprise!) because I know if I have to take Small to the restroom with me I’m going to end up peeing all over the seat and/or floor as I try to prevent him from unlocking the door, flushing while I’m mid release, rolling around on the floor, unrolling the toilet paper, picking decade-old boogers off the wall, or waving at the nice lady in the next stall from underneath the partition.
On the drive home I started to get that ominous feeling that I wasn’t going to make it home. As I pulled in the driveway, I realized I wasn’t going to have time to grab any bags; I’d need to get the baby out of the car immediately and make a mad dash for the bathroom. I put the Swagger Wagon in Park, ran around to get the baby, clenched my nether-regions to prevent leakage, and turned around to run into the house.
And then it happened . . .
Totally peed myself in the 10 feet it took me to get from the Swagger Wagon to the garage.
I pushed myself too far, and now I’m in the midst of a full-blown UTI, complete with the following amenities:
- I always feel like I have to go
- When I go, it hurts and it never feels like I’m actually finished
- I feel like there’s a bowling ball sitting in my bladder
Remember when Joey was auditioning with guest star Jeff Goldblum on Friends? A normal person feels relief when it's all over. Not the person with a UTI.
So I’m cranky today. Stay out of my way.
(BTW, isn’t it funny how I can’t talk about S-E-X, but I can totally admit on the World Wide Internets that I peed my pants?)