Tuesday, April 08, 2008

A Bladder Matter

We'd just had a series of cold, grey days. It was a pre-cursor to winter and difficult to shake the tired feeling that accompanies cheerless weather. I felt fatigued, spent.

I was tucked under a big squishy duvet. The kind that gently engulfs your chilled, weary body as soon as you get into bed. Coccoons every part of you in an indulgent embrace. I felt sleep approaching easily and I was ready for it to draw me in like a deep cleansing sigh.

And I slept. Amazingly well. Deeper than the ocean. Hours passed and I remained disengaged from every sound, every stressor, every temporal affair.

Except one.

I had to pee. And some fragment of my brain knew it. But it's voice against the masses was miniscule. A blip on the subconscious radar. The rest of my body wanted to stay right where it was - in a deep, beautiful abyss of uninterrupted slumber. But as minutes passed, the real-life pressure on my bladder persisted, advancing from a feeling of annoyance to anguish. And soon that miniscule voice became a shout and then a roar that could not be ignored.

So, they - the pee part and the sleep part of me - arrived at a compromise.

And suddenly, I was at a toilet. A big, clean, white bowl, mine for the taking. I hurriedly sat down and felt that familiar, grateful, pang of relief. Ahhhhhh... I peed like a pro. Like a racehorse. Like I'd been retaining all the water in all the oceans in all the world since the beginning of time. And I was grateful.

Until I woke up. In my bed. In my pee.

And that feeling - is not one you need ever experience. The relief was almost simultaneously cancelled out by the horror at what I'd just done. I reached down to confirm the worst. My flannel ducky pajamas were soaked. I gasped. The gasp woke up Corn.

"I just peed the bed!" I blurted and threw off the covers. Then I ran bowlegged for the bathroom, clutching my crotch.

When I returned to the bedroom, clean-up supplies in hand, Corn was up and wearily pulling drenched sheets off the mattress. He didn't say much. Actually, nothing. At first I thought he was mad, but quickly realized he was still half-asleep. It was 3 in the morning after all. I, on the other hand was in a complete frenzy. I felt like a superball on speed. I was delirious, incredulous and giddily embarassed. The only other time I peed the bed was when I shared a room with my sister. I didn't know the protocol for doing it in adulthood. And not to mention how to rationalize or explain it to Corn.

But I didn't have to. He was so tired, that he crept back onto his (dry) side of the mattress, turned away from the scene of the crime, pulled a blanket up over his shoulder and readied again for sleep.

But I, having just stunned myself into re-evaluating myself as a fully-functioning adult, was nowhere near falling back asleep. Towels, sponges, sprays in hand - I got to work on the platter-sized stain leeching into my posturpedic. I hopped around, laughing nervously and blathering away to the back of Corn's head about how I couldn't believe what just happened, how I was sorry, how embarrassed I felt, how I was dreaming about a toilet, how that must have been a really deep sleep and would he please please never ever TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS EVERRRR??!!!

He promised groggily.

Then a whole new series of thoughts struck me: What if this isn't a one-time thing? What if this happens again? Will I have to buy rubber sheets? Will I have to wear diapers? What if I have an underlying medical problem? What if I'm incontinent the rest of my life? I went on and on inventing ailments and scenarios as I scrubbed and cleaned and dabbed and sprayed.

"Man," I sighed, shaking my head. "I just can't believe I did this. I'm 31 years old and I peed the bed." It was more a self-assertion than anything.

Corn stirred. He turned to face me, his eyes alert. And with all the earnesty in the world he said,

"You're 31?"

I literally fell to the floor laughing. And not a nervous "I'm a bedwetter" laugh. A real one. Because in all the havoc I had created, in all the insanity of the scene, THAT'S what he singled out as important. And in that moment, I knew my self-induced chaos was irrelevant. Big deal. So I took a whiz in the bed. I'm sure I'm not the only one. It's not like I peed my pants at a job interview. As a matter of fact, I might wet the bed again (not that I have). Maybe just for fun (not that I would). But I chilled out about it and as dumb as it sounds, I felt lucky to have Corn. Easygoing, calm, best-ever Corn. And I'm happy to tell you I haven't wet the bed in 5 months.

And that's why the next day, I told the story to anyone who would listen. Can't let a little bedwetting ruin a good story. Even if it happens to you.


Misster Kitty said...

(singing) "...you're a big gurl now..."

It's probably more common that you think... not sure, but maybe... depends really. get it?! DEPENDS...

...and, um, thanks for sharing that extra special TMI moment for all the Blogisphere. We're wiser for the knowledge...

Ma Horton said...

Two good things : 1) You never fainted during the whiz .
2) If you had fainted you were in a nice soft place to fall .
Note of interest : Do all night time pees begin at 3 am ?

Kelly said...

I literally just LOL @ this:

"Then I ran bowlegged for the bathroom, clutching my crotch."

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Anonymous said...

Nat, I used to have that toilet dream as a kid and the other day, I was wondering if it ever happened to adults... I would have probably reacted the same way you did but my boyfriend would have ran away to sleep in the basement! What a funny post... I love the way you wrote it.
PS, I'm sure Corn is just as happy to have you than you are to have him... even with the bed-wetting problem!

Twiggy said...

(at the risk of being the last post again....)

Though i was 14 and not 31, I've had a very similar experience - only it was a sleepover at a friend's house and we were on her pull-out couch. The bathroom was up the nosiest, criketiest (sp?) stairs (this was a cottage) you've ever heard. Also upstairs was my friend's aunt and her two idiotic shit-zus (i don't know if that's how how you spell it but if your nose had almost been bitten off by your grandmother's devil-born shitzu at the age of 4 you'de hate them too). These dogs would bark at lint if it moved. You would go from the kitchen to the dinner table (same room), and if you returned to the kitchen they'd would bark their heads off as if they'd never seen you before.
Anywho, so here i am, a morning person (ie tinkle time is 7am or 8am), sleeping over at a late-sleeper family (ie wake-up time past 9am-10am). I knew that if i got up to pee at the time i usually do, i'd wake up the whole house (stairs+dogs=racket). So when that first tingly feeling woke me up at 7am, and firmly closed my eyes and said "no! i will wait!" and forced myself back to sleep - over and over again, until i dreamt i was on the toilet and that noone was sleeping in the cottage. And thus, i peed the bed. Next to my friend on her pull-out couch. Because of noisy stairs and two dumb dogs, and a toilet dream :P.

So yea - since then, i've learning that going to the bathroom half-asleep is better than wetting the bed. (Ma might not agree - though half aspleep and half-conscious are not the same thing!)

John said...

Ahh, the gift of laughing at yourself and the humility to share. I love you friend N@. You are so genuine.

Thank you for a hearty-gigglefest!

ZoeyBella said...

Wait... You're 31?

tball said...

Nat that was a good story...

Diana said...

Hi N@, love the post! The same thing happened to me a couple of years ago. Dreaming about going to pee in the toilet, but actually ending up peeing in my bed. The dream seemed so real. And I still do have these peeing dreams from time to time (but no peeing in the bed since that one time). Is that weird?

Anonymous said...

I loved reading your post! The same thing happens to me a couple a times each year for no apparent reason. It's no big, but I do chuckle at the idea of being an adult bedwetter haha!


Andy said...

It seems like an oxymoron but there are adult bedwetters. I know beacause I'm one of them. I don't piss the bed every single night..maybe 2 or 3 nights a week.

I'm a 29 y/o guy and it happens


Anonymous said...

Ha ha. That was funny, and oh so real for many people. Look at this video that won a campus prize about the same topic. It must be based on a true story!