The trouble with drinking a boat-load of water every day is that you have to go pee. Frequently.
To make matters worse, I’m convinced my bladder is on the small side. Perhaps comparable to that of a hamster.
It doesn’t help that I birthed two gargantuan babies once upon a time. And that I then completely blew off the recommended post-birthing Kegel exercises, rendering me about as effective as a toddler at controlling my bladder.
On Friday, early on in the road trip, we hit a traffic jam. Construction. The highway was at a standstill.
And I had to pee.
I announced the situation to Mr. Enthusiasm, who glibly responded, “Uh…look around, Nanc, we’re not going anywhere.”
I raged quietly inside.
My jaw tightened. I clenched. I cursed myself for not practicing Kegels more often. I tried to take my mind off the increased urgency in my loins.
Desperate for relief, I looked around the truck for anything that might pass for a make-shift bedpan. The pickings were slim.
The following is an actual conversation between Mr. Enthusiasm (ME) and I (me):
me: I have to go.
ME: Babe, you can’t go. We are barely moving. You just have to hold on.
me: I can’t. I really have to go. It hurts.
ME: Here, have a bottle cap, that’ll make you feel better.
me: [swatting away the box of bottle caps] NO! I don’t want candy. I need a toilet.
ME: I can’t help you.
me: You don’t have to. I’m going to use the empty coffee cup. It’s perfect. It has a lid I can use to cover it up when I’m done.
me: Yes. I’m going to just crawl to the back seat so I can kneel on the floor to do it.
ME: No. Please don’t. Your aim is not that good.
me: Dude! I can pee in a wee little plastic thing at the doctor’s office. I can surely keep it inside this large coffee cup.
ME: Nanc! At the doctor’s office you are squatting over an actual toilet. And the floor isn’t moving.
me: The floor isn’t moving here either! [although, we actually were going approx. 5-10 mph…]
ME: Please don’t. I don’t want to have to smell pee on the carpet for the next 3 days.
me: What would be better, me peeing my pants and you smelling it on me (and the leather seat)???
ME: LOOK! Exit 1/4 mile ahead. You can hold it that long, right??
me: [Hmmph] I can try, I guess.
This story ends happily, friends.
The kind drivers in rural Illinois let Mr. Enthusiasm change lanes from the far left to the far right and we took that exit 1/4 mile later.
As luck would have it, there was a public golf course spitting distance from the exit, and I made use of their clean, non-moving, wide-mouth toilet.
Most certainly a better outcome than the kneel-and-pee-in-a-coffee-cup plan would have rendered.
I have since added Kegel exercises to my daily regime. Although I think investing in one of these would be the smarter thing to do, frankly.