It was my second visit in a week to the hospital. I sat nervously as the gynaecologist read the report of the medical test I had done on my first visit."Well madam," he removed his glasses, putting down the report. "There is good news and not so good news." He paused. I sat still. Quiet. Unblinking. "The good news is that you haven't got a kidney problem like we suspected. The not-so-good news is that the symptoms you've been experiencing are all signs of a weak pelvic floor." Inwardly, I sighed. It didn't sound bad afterall. No hardly-pronouncible medical name.
I had feared the worst report. I had been experiencing urinary problems for weeks. It had started as a little pain to the lower right of my back. At first, I ignored it. Then, I noticed I couldn't hold urine for long and on several occasions, urine had leaked into my dress and often trailed my steps. Alarmed, I had come to the hospital and the gynaecologist had examined me and ordered tests done."I can only presume that you fall into the category of persons who bedwetted for a long time in childhood..."
Bedwetted for a long time. In a split second, I travelled back twenty years earlier. "You shameless girl," my mother's voice reverberated throughout the house. "How can you not be ashamed wetting your bed at 8 years of age?" I cringed into the corner of the room. "I shall have to start beating you. When I leave several marks on your body, you will remember not to sleep like a log of wood such that you don't know when urine is leaving your body." I cringed farther into the corner.
Hissing for the tenth time that morning, "Remove this wet mattress to dry outside and come back to wipe the floor." With that, she stomped out. Silently, I wrapped the dripping mattress under my arm and crept outside, careful not to bump into anybody. The humiliation was too much.It wasn't neither the first nor the last of such disgraceful episodes. In fact, I wetted the bed until I was about 17 years of age. My salvation came supernaturally (a story for another day).
"...So, I will give you some mmedication for the urinary tract infection and I will prescribe a pelvic exercise which I expect should take care of the weak muscles around your pelvic and anal region." I did get better. The exercises were also no longer necessary. The doctor couldn't understand when in a few days, I returned to the hospital and informed him that all the symptoms had cleared and I hadn't even done the exercises. He gave me a blank appointment slip - just in case - but I have not since gone back.
Afterwards, I have often wondered how we crucify a person for an issue that is totally beyond their control. My childhood bedwetting problems contributed to the erosion of my self confidence as a teen and subsequently as an adult. If only we could find out how our words made others feel, perhaps we wouldn't be so quick to condemn.
I had feared the worst report. I had been experiencing urinary problems for weeks. It had started as a little pain to the lower right of my back. At first, I ignored it. Then, I noticed I couldn't hold urine for long and on several occasions, urine had leaked into my dress and often trailed my steps. Alarmed, I had come to the hospital and the gynaecologist had examined me and ordered tests done."I can only presume that you fall into the category of persons who bedwetted for a long time in childhood..."
Bedwetted for a long time. In a split second, I travelled back twenty years earlier. "You shameless girl," my mother's voice reverberated throughout the house. "How can you not be ashamed wetting your bed at 8 years of age?" I cringed into the corner of the room. "I shall have to start beating you. When I leave several marks on your body, you will remember not to sleep like a log of wood such that you don't know when urine is leaving your body." I cringed farther into the corner.
Hissing for the tenth time that morning, "Remove this wet mattress to dry outside and come back to wipe the floor." With that, she stomped out. Silently, I wrapped the dripping mattress under my arm and crept outside, careful not to bump into anybody. The humiliation was too much.It wasn't neither the first nor the last of such disgraceful episodes. In fact, I wetted the bed until I was about 17 years of age. My salvation came supernaturally (a story for another day).
"...So, I will give you some mmedication for the urinary tract infection and I will prescribe a pelvic exercise which I expect should take care of the weak muscles around your pelvic and anal region." I did get better. The exercises were also no longer necessary. The doctor couldn't understand when in a few days, I returned to the hospital and informed him that all the symptoms had cleared and I hadn't even done the exercises. He gave me a blank appointment slip - just in case - but I have not since gone back.
Afterwards, I have often wondered how we crucify a person for an issue that is totally beyond their control. My childhood bedwetting problems contributed to the erosion of my self confidence as a teen and subsequently as an adult. If only we could find out how our words made others feel, perhaps we wouldn't be so quick to condemn.
