Wetting the Bed at Thirty
…and finding out it’s not unusual at all.
I was fast asleep one night when an uncanny feeling slid into my dreams. As I slowly started coming to, I realized I was peeing myself. This wasn’t a bit of a drip, some drizzle before the rain; no, my pajamas were soaked and so was the bed.
Instinctively, I ran to the bathroom, but it was to no avail. I had lost all control over my bladder — the waterfall kept pouring as I kept running. I tried to hold it but I just simply couldn’t, as if I couldn’t feel my muscles at all. When I finally threw myself on the toilet, there was nothing left.
What the F?
It took me a moment to collect myself and actually realize what was happening. I took off my PJ bottoms only to confirm that they were entirely soaked. “Oh no,” it came to me suddenly, “the bed!” Half-naked and panicked, I ran back into the bedroom and turned the lights on. “Get up, quickly, get up!” I yelled at my sleeping boyfriend as I ripped the sheets off trying to make sure the pee didn’t reach him. It felt like I was saving him from fast-spreading lava. “I peed myself,” I repeated to his confused face, “you have to leave the bed, I peed myself”.
What a complete disaster. I made up the couch for him and stashed the dirty sheets in the bathroom. I took a shower and a lot of deep breaths. Then the anxiety set in.
Women, incontinence, and the pelvic floor
I would say it’s time for some context.
About a week before, I had had my first laparoscopy for endometriosis. During the horrific pre-op day I had to do a thorough bowel cleanse. It wasn’t my first rodeo so I knew that I was most likely going to get my pants full of diarrhea at some point during the day. My friends cheered me up by sharing embarrassing stories of their own about pooping themselves after food poisoning/expecting it to be a fart/passing out drunk… and that was all fine and well.
My surgery, thankfully, was a success. It did come with something I had never experienced before: a catheter in my bladder. The urinary catheter is a tube which drains the urine out of your bladder without you doing anything, and it causes the weirdest sensation. Then again — everything felt strange in those first couple of days. I was both sore all over and couldn’t feel a thing at the same time. This feeling stayed with me long after I left the hospital — an odd detachment from my body while I felt each and every muscle and organ more consciously than ever before.
As I sat wrapped up in my towel in the middle of the night, having just cleaned myself and my bedroom of accidental urination at 30 years of age, all I could think of was that catheter. What if it damaged my bladder and now I’ve completely lost control? I rewound every second since I’ve been back from the hospital and questioned every single drop that came out of my vagina — what if that was pee, too, and I just didn’t know?
Only small children and old people pee themselves.
A small child I was not, so there was only one option left — my body has once again screwed me over and now I’m an old lady. In my mind, I went through the ordeal of having to wear adult diapers or catheters for the rest of my life. It’s always something, as Gilda Radner said. I imagined the reality of not having any control of my bladder and it nearly brought me to tears. Something must’ve gone wrong, I muttered to myself as I paced around, they botched the surgery and ruined my bladder somehow, just my luck!
The next day, I was inconsolable. It didn’t matter that my boyfriend was delightfully unbothered by the fact I pissed the bed he had been sleeping in, and none of my friends could calm me down because drunk stories and UTIs were not a life sentence like permanent bladder damage. I called up the hospital in panic and requested an immediate check up with my surgeon.
When I googled it all, of course, the only options the search engine gave me were that I was either postpartum or a senior without even knowing. I turned to the one place on the Internet that was safe in these kind of times: the endometriosis support groups.
We’ve got you, bedwetter!
I shared my story in one of my support groups and asked the women present to share their own experiences.
First off, an impromptu poll had been made. 75 women said that they had peed themselves several times as adults. 70 other women said that they pee themselves semi-regularly and know that it’s a consequence of endometriosis. Several women said that they started peeing themselves as a consequence of childbirth or as a consequence of bladder damage during a laparoscopy. All of them told me to calm down. It’s not a big deal, the consensus read, especially if it’s a one-off.
The beauty of support groups based around such an intimate topic is not only the comfort you get from knowing you’re not alone — but from the laughs you get while reading the stories that could be told nowhere else and to no one else. Dozens and dozens and dozens of hilarious comments started springing up making it very clear to me that incontinence of any kind is sadly just another part of the endometriosis journey. Parties, university lectures, the airport, dates, grocery stores… grown women around the world have peed and pooped themselves everywhere.
Women with endometriosis on their bladder, those who have pelvic floor muscle dysfunction, or who have had extensive endometriosis treatments such as several laparoscopies, lose control of their bladders sometimes. It can be a one-off, or it can become a more persistent problem that needs treatment.
So…
I called the hospital back up next morning and cancelled my appointment. I lived on the edge for a while, but thankfully I haven’t peed myself since.
My world does look very different now that I know another secret about it: it’s not only kids and the elderly that pee themselves. Next time you walk down the street and look at all those adults, know that a lot of them might have peed or pooed themselves the other day. Most importantly — know that it’s not a death sentence if it happens to you!
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