No joking matter

Proceeed with caution: this post refers to pelvic floors and wee. Please feel free to turn back now and read something less personal.

Since the birth of T (and possibly while he was still in my womb) I have had an issue with stress incontinence. I have spoken about it on my blog before but mostly in joking terms or in reference to the need to plan trips carefully around toilet breaks. But really it is no joking matter and I am cross with myself that I have a) put up with it for so long (T is 18 in a weeks’ time), b) been dealing with it in relative silence and c) when I have spoken about it, made light of it or brushed it off as “just one of those things”.

I was referred to a Women’s Physio after I had recovered enough from the birth. It was a horrendous birth and, although I was 30, I was incredibly naive to the potential issues that birth can bring and being quite a private person who doesn’t like discussing her, well, privates, in public or with strangers it was excrutiating to find myself in need of help of this sort. Just the name Women’s Physio implies something. I’m not sure what it implies but it just seems yet one more thing that comes under “women’s troubles”, things not to be discussed, especially not with your mother-in-law, things that only women have* and therefore probably make a fuss about and should really “just get on with”.

Anyway, back to the referral. I was post natal with a very unhappy baby. It was hard enough to leave the house, let alone find the will to leave the house to go for physio on my pelvic floor. But I went and it was as awful as you could imagine. By nature invasive and, because of my hang-ups, just the most excrutiatingly awkward process. But I persevered and there were improvements. Just to be clear about stress incontinence – I mean that if I need to sneeze, cough or laughed unexpectedly I have to cross my legs tightly (not always a great idea if you are walking along a busy road) and even that does not guarantee that I will not pee. And if my bladder is on the full side it could be catastrophic. I would need both hands, and probably a few toes, to count the number of times I have lost control of my bladder. It is beyond embarassing. It is humiliating, devastating, shameful, mortifying. I have walked home with soaking wet jeans; had to get in my car and drive home with a plastic bag on the seat; had to tie my coat around my waist in an attempt to hide the growing dark stain, stripping off when I get home, in floods of tears and so cross with myself. K has had many a call from me asking him to please unlock the door and make sure the bathroom is free when I am walking home after a night out because I just know I am not going to make it. Luckily, he’s not even slightly perturbed and is hugely sympathetic and it is a bit of a joke between us. But it’s not really funny. At all.

So, by improvement I mean I had fewer “accidents” and although I still had to wear a pad most days (oh yes, me and Tena have been friends for many, many years) it was a bit better. Then, of course, I had A and we were pretty much back to square one. And I don’t remember being offered any help again. It was discussed when I was pregnant with A – there was some talk about me having a C section as the damage had been so bad with T, but the consultant ultimately decided my situation wasn’t bad enough** to justify it – but the feeling I had was that this was normal and to be expected and really nothing could be done.

Fast forward another 15 years and I am still buying Tena (I have to know that I have a new box ready to start when the current box is running low, I CAN’T be without them, although some of this is pyschological rather than physiological) and still calling K to “get the bloody door open” for me and I still live in dread of an accident and the ensuing humiliation. I can’t do certain exercises and I stopped going to anything more high impact than yoga years ago, sick of having to explain why I can’t do star jumps or run on the spot. I have never set foot on a trampoline and I don’t dance, ever. And not just because of my serious lack of skills.

Since I became peri-menopausal I’ve read a lot of articles and books and I follow a lot of menopause-related accounts on social media, keeping myself as informed as possible. Stress incontinence is a sympton of the menopause and as such it comes up now and again in articles. I read one last week which was eye-opening. It said that it isn’t normal to have stress incontinence. It is common but it is not normal. It questioned the marketing campaigns of products like Tena (other brands are available and I am no way sponsored by them!) which seem to imply it is just a bit of a nuisance and completely to be expected when you have just had a baby or are over 50. This was interesting. What was more interesting is that it also talked about how it is never too late to re-train your pelvic floor and improve it’s strength and lessen the need to run to the loo***.

It recommended The Pelvic Floor Bible as further reading and an app called Squeezy as a starting point. I downloaded both and read the book in the space of a few hours. I have been using the app for 5 days and I am hopeful. It is not rocket science – it is a tool to remind you to do your exercises and it takes you through the process – but it is making me think more about it. I haven’t done the exercises that I learnt 18 years ago for at least a decade as I think I just gave up hoping that I would ever be without this issue. I’m not convinced I will ever not need my trusty box in my knicker drawer but I am hopeful that I might at least see an improvement. And, if I don’t, there are other things I can try.

What I’ve really taken away from this is that as women we “just put up” with a lot. Periods, pregnancy, childbirth, post-natal issues, menopause. We put up with it because generations of women before us put up with it, because they had to. It’s perpetuated this myth that we should keep quiet about things, not discuss it. But technology and medical advances and the society we live in have evolved hugely since my Nan was my age. Stress incontinence is not normal and it should not just be one more thing that we just put up with. And I for one am going to stop making a joke out of it, I am going to stop being cross with myself, I am going to do everything I can to take control of the situation and see what happens. I’m going to be 50 in two years. How lovely would it be if I could ditch the Tena and be free?

*interestingly this is not a Women Only issue; there are many men who have issues with stress incontinence, it’s just not compartmentalised under Men’s Troubles”. I wonder why?

**to be “bad enough” I would have needed to be incontinent both with my bladder AND my bowel.

***anyone with SI will know that it is IMPOSSIBLE to run to the loo when you need to pee. Any sort of fast movement is asking for huge trouble and it is the one thing that has taken me years to get through to my family – I know I said I REALLY need to go to the toilet. I know that I am walking at a snails pace and that if I REALLY need to go surely I should get a bit of a wriggle on before it is too late. I can’t emphasise enough that when you have SI it takes every single bit of effort and concentration just not to pee, you can’t begin to think about even talking, so you can NEVER move quickly.

Here we go again

And so another month begins. Life is different in some ways and not in others. The loosening of “the rules” (which are now “guidelines”) have meant that the Taxi Service is back in action. T is able to see his friends more often and, as his driving test has been cancelled again, he is still no closer to being mobile under his own steam. It’s frustrating him and it’s meant we are back to the “you do Friday and I’ll do Saturday” type conversations that K and I were having a mere 4 months ago. To say that I haven’t missed the Taxi Service is an understatement. Between the two kids’ social lives I made two round trips to Berkhamsted, two to Harpenden with a trip to St Albans (for my own purposes) thrown in the mix all in the space of 4 hours on Sunday afternoon. A far cry from the “shall I sit in the garden and read a book” or “shall I go out for a walk” dilemma of a few weeks ago.

I don’t really begrudge them my time or petrol – they are always grateful – but it has come as a bit of a culture shock. I had just adjusted to the new normal of not doing much at all – at least not involving the car! – and now BAM we are back to the old normal (in some respects).

T had a session at work yesterday going through the new measures and procedures for when the pub re-opens on Saturday. It’s going to be a huge learning curve for the staff and customers alike but he was pleased to report that they have implemented a “no shit” policy giving them free rein to politely kick anyone out who is flouting the rules or being an arse. I am sure it was not explained quite like that…oh wait, no hang on,…it most likely was. I’m pleased he’s going to have something productive to do with his time and hopefully when he turns 18 in a few weeks time (18!) he will get some more shifts as he will be able to serve behind the bar. Even more hopefully he will get a new date for his test and will soon be able to drive himself there and back!

From my own side of the fence, I have no intentions or inclinations to head out to the pub on Saturday. Or to a restaurant. I don’t even really want to go to the shops. I had to go into Boots on Sunday (during my part of the afternoon) and although it had a one way system and I was wearing a mask, I still felt vulnerable and wanted it over with as quickly as possible. I am, however, looking forward to being able to have my brother and his family over all together and even have inside-the-house visitors. Having to rely on the weather being good so I can see people and socialise (within the limits of my very-small-but-perfectly-formed social life) has been a bit of a constraint.

In other news, I have bought myself a book – Black and British by David Olusoga (he of A House Through Time programmes and countless other books and articles). The death of George Floyd and the subsequent events around the world have made me realise how very ignorant I am about black history and the reasons why these events have happened. So I am starting my education with this book and hope to feel a bit better informed by the end of it.

I was looking through my photos earlier today, trying to find a recipe that I’d screen-shotted (spelling?) and there is a real theme developing – plants, trees, flowers, fields, sunsets, cake, biscuits, meals, glasses of wine, the odd “walk selfie” with A. As Mary Poppins (or is it Maria in A Sound of Music??!) these are a few of my favourite things. Lockdown life.