Pee
Pee. Not a word my mother would approve. Too raw, impolite, bad word. But as for all of us it is a daily substance. Normal bodily process. I remember my potty chair. In my growing up there was a code phrase-'I have to scratch my nose' meant I had to pee. Typical: silence, obfuscation, shame. I remember the burning at times when I 'went', what I would now suspect were uti's. Probably simple hygiene issue, back when the instructions for wiping were from a male gyn POV- top to bottom. Only makes sense if you are looking from an exam table position. From a personal POV, it is front to back. One bathroom in the house, first floor adjacent to the kitchen. And me, I had a shy bladder, would not work if I felt I could be heard. At least visual privacy was the norm, the door would always be closed. I would be a teenager before there was a lock. Another rant about my father here, skip.
The ex believed that having the bathroom door open was about intimacy and trust. So I went along, not knowing how this worked. It would eventually become a burden for me, that even the bathroom was not a place I could feel safe, or alone.
Getting ready to go into the Guard, I had to produce urine samples, witnessed, it took a coke and a lot of humming on my part. I never thought about my bladder so much as when I was doing Army training. Drill Sergeants made us drink two glasses of water at every meal. Potty breaks were never enough, and we all went in at the same time. Lines of us undoing the pants when we were next in line, and doing them back up after we left the stall. At one of the field training buildings, there was no separation, I was back to back with the woman behind me using her stall. My bladder got over it's shyness. Got the shyness beaten out of it more like.
Ever see the Animaniacs when Wacko had to "potty"? Went all over the earth looking for a place to go? Been there. When in Saudi for Gulf War I, after the 22 hour flight, made to unload our duffle bags from the plane, given water and told to drink, not to get dehydrated. It was 0-dark-30, Army thinking, like we were about to succumb to heatstroke in the middle of the night. No toilet facilities. Then packed on busses for another two hours drive to our billets. The local driver could not be convinced to stop the bus to let us go outside. I was getting desperate, going to wet myself any minute. I told one of the women around me, and they all gathered, shielding me from view. I used a plastic mug I had brought with me, and couldn't get it all out, but enough to get by. I put the covered mug on the bus stairs, then one of the guys went to see what it was. A chorus of women's voices saying "LEAVE IT ALONE!" This is why I like Army women, if you need them they will do what they have to. Shortly after- rumor says there were threats made-the bus driver did stop, and a bunch got off to take care of business. Figures.
Applying for nursing school, I worked as a nursing assistant in a two nasty little nursing homes, mostly geriatric, but some younger disabled and psych patients. Pee was my responsibility. Diapers and toileting, 'accidents' and soiled bedding, became my life. Made changing diapers for infants in the OB clinical roatation trivial. That smell permeated my uniforms, and I changed as soon as I got home, and immediately took a shower. To insufficient results.
When I got to the OR, I was so happy at the reduction of pee in my life, I never much minded the occasions when I had to deal with it. At least it was mostly in the form of putting in Foley catheters, contained piss- no mopping. Or in urology, at least I was gowned and gloved. I was dubbed a Pee Princess one year that I worked a lot of urology cases. I got good at caths- I figured it out once, I have done at least 1K of them, I can catheterize about anyone- had to put one in an individual with ambiguous genitalia, got it in one. I have put in foley catheters in both male and female under sterile drapes, blind shots. Not easy, not ideal. Amazing what practice can do.
As for me now, I can go anytime, anywhere. Port-a-potties are luxury compared to some outside latrines I had to use. Still I insist on clean bathrooms at home. We both want a closed door, for the sake of a right to privacy. When D was in the hospital with his smashed arm, I had no trouble letting him lean on me while he used a bottle urinal. But I looked the other way and hummed for him. Cuz when you gotta go.......
Don't worry, there will not be a #2 after this essay.
The ex believed that having the bathroom door open was about intimacy and trust. So I went along, not knowing how this worked. It would eventually become a burden for me, that even the bathroom was not a place I could feel safe, or alone.
Getting ready to go into the Guard, I had to produce urine samples, witnessed, it took a coke and a lot of humming on my part. I never thought about my bladder so much as when I was doing Army training. Drill Sergeants made us drink two glasses of water at every meal. Potty breaks were never enough, and we all went in at the same time. Lines of us undoing the pants when we were next in line, and doing them back up after we left the stall. At one of the field training buildings, there was no separation, I was back to back with the woman behind me using her stall. My bladder got over it's shyness. Got the shyness beaten out of it more like.
Ever see the Animaniacs when Wacko had to "potty"? Went all over the earth looking for a place to go? Been there. When in Saudi for Gulf War I, after the 22 hour flight, made to unload our duffle bags from the plane, given water and told to drink, not to get dehydrated. It was 0-dark-30, Army thinking, like we were about to succumb to heatstroke in the middle of the night. No toilet facilities. Then packed on busses for another two hours drive to our billets. The local driver could not be convinced to stop the bus to let us go outside. I was getting desperate, going to wet myself any minute. I told one of the women around me, and they all gathered, shielding me from view. I used a plastic mug I had brought with me, and couldn't get it all out, but enough to get by. I put the covered mug on the bus stairs, then one of the guys went to see what it was. A chorus of women's voices saying "LEAVE IT ALONE!" This is why I like Army women, if you need them they will do what they have to. Shortly after- rumor says there were threats made-the bus driver did stop, and a bunch got off to take care of business. Figures.
Applying for nursing school, I worked as a nursing assistant in a two nasty little nursing homes, mostly geriatric, but some younger disabled and psych patients. Pee was my responsibility. Diapers and toileting, 'accidents' and soiled bedding, became my life. Made changing diapers for infants in the OB clinical roatation trivial. That smell permeated my uniforms, and I changed as soon as I got home, and immediately took a shower. To insufficient results.
When I got to the OR, I was so happy at the reduction of pee in my life, I never much minded the occasions when I had to deal with it. At least it was mostly in the form of putting in Foley catheters, contained piss- no mopping. Or in urology, at least I was gowned and gloved. I was dubbed a Pee Princess one year that I worked a lot of urology cases. I got good at caths- I figured it out once, I have done at least 1K of them, I can catheterize about anyone- had to put one in an individual with ambiguous genitalia, got it in one. I have put in foley catheters in both male and female under sterile drapes, blind shots. Not easy, not ideal. Amazing what practice can do.
As for me now, I can go anytime, anywhere. Port-a-potties are luxury compared to some outside latrines I had to use. Still I insist on clean bathrooms at home. We both want a closed door, for the sake of a right to privacy. When D was in the hospital with his smashed arm, I had no trouble letting him lean on me while he used a bottle urinal. But I looked the other way and hummed for him. Cuz when you gotta go.......
Don't worry, there will not be a #2 after this essay.
Posted by Zhoen on Sunday, May 01, 2005
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