The Diaper Days

For my birthday, I received some amazingly appropriate gifts, one of them being Sarah Silverman's "memoirs", The Bedwetter. Reading it has got me to thinking of my own enuresis memories, and consequently, the fact that I am still one of the most annoying people to go on a road trip with. (Every 10 minutes... "umm...no rush but, I'm going to wet your passenger seat if you don't pull over RIGHT NOW" ... "I DON'T CARE IF THE EXIT'S NOT FOR ANOTHER 2 MILES, damnit!!")

Allow me to explain: I was a chronic bedwetter from an early age (as far back as I can remember) up until my teens (last documented case: age 13, save for a crazy, blacked-out night in college when I peed in, oh yes, a GUY'S bed! ...needless to say he had moved to the couch downstairs by the time I woke up drenched in my own urine).

Enuresis can cause obscure phobias in young children, most notably that of spending the night ANYWHERE but home, in your own (plastic-sheet-on-top-of-mattress) bed, where your mom routinely and oh-so-thoughtfully places your Depends diaper for the night while you're brushing your teeth. At a time when most kids around the country are calling home, begging their parents to "pretty pretty please" let them stay the night at Johnny's or Katie's, I was putting my stellar fabrication skills into action, explaining that I had to get up early the next morning for "church" or "soccer", or at least scheming on how to subtly slip a diaper into the bottom of a sleeping bag for a weekend sleepover party. Getting it on while sandwiched in an already-zipped-up bag is a whole other story (Megan, what are you DOING under there??? Oh, you know, just my nightly crunches...).

As if it wasn't enough embarrassment to have actually wet about 5 other beds than my own by age 10, my parents decided I should seek "medical help". Doctor's offices are daunting enough for ANY reason really, but the worst are the so-called "non-emergencies", because then you just feel picky and overly-privileged. My skin needs this, my depression needs that, those are the usual run-of-the-mill cases, but nope: Dr. Padilla saw a 10-year-old Megan who was still wetting the bed (and slowly outgrowing any and all sizes of diapers). Anyway, I was given (wait for it) a PAMPHLET along with a brightly colored piece of paper (photos thankfully not included) outlining some "routine exercises" to perform while on the John. Seriously??? Isn't there like a pill or shot for this yet??

Although I must give the doctors credit for their practice (and stupid pink pamphlets), because these exercises are what (I'm assuming) caused my urethra to finally grow strong enough to HOLD THE GODDAMN PEE IN UNTIL 7 AM!! ...at age 14.
To this day, however, I am known for my frequent (and record-breakingly-fast) bathroom visits. I'm quickly becoming the San Franciscan George Costanza with my spontaneous bladder emergencies around the city (In addition to knowing public restrooms, I can also list 4 different Starbucks' bathroom codes). Whether the fact that I pee every half hour (not an exaggeration) is due to the abnormally large amounts of H2O that I inhale throughout the day, or simply the fact that my bladder is still the size of a goddamn pupil, well, I don't think we'll ever know. But we love me anyway, riiight??

right?
mreh.