Marcie "Mom" Glanzer's Column
Friday, January 20, 2005
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I was recently thinking about bladders…a strange thing to
ponder, perhaps, but we all have one and I’d be willing to bet that at one time
or another, we have all been tested to our limits by this “holding tank” of
sorts. This fall, for example, I was traveling to Vermillion from Carpenter…a
three hour drive if I don’t stop for anything, and I was cruising along when
hunger pangs began gnawing at my insides. I stopped at the “Subway” in DeSmet
and purchased a sandwich and drink, and continued on my way. I have a bit
of a phobia of being stared at, especially if it is in a small town where
everyone knows everyone else and knows darn good and well that I don’t belong
there. But DeSmet was OK, since it was on a major highway (14) and got many
strangers stopping in and nobody would give me a second glance. After that
though, the towns leading up to Vermillion are quite small, so when my bladder
began beckoning to me that I should find a bathroom, I ignored it. I wasn’t
about to go to a gas station in Howard or Freeman and risk being the object of
curious stares, just to go pee. I was sure I could hold it in for another hour
or two. The thought of stopping at a gas station without a real reason, like
filling the tank with gas, or buying a sack of junk food and pop was just too
embarrassing! I could just imagine how I would walk in and 3 men and one
cashier would stop all conversation, watch me walk blankly around searching for
a bathroom, (while I try to look nonchalant, like I know exactly where it is)
and end up opening the door to a broom closet…then scurrying out after using the
bathroom but not purchasing anything…it is just too humiliating to risk it. I
HAD to make it. The sign ahead said “Yankton 55 miles”…Once I get to Yankton
it’s only another half hour…I CAN DO IT!!! I consider stopping in Yankton but
fear that if I stand up I could have an accident, so I speed through town and
start praying. By now I’m hopping up and down in my seat, turning up the radio
to distract my ever growing bladder. “Why did I drink that damned Diet Coke? I
could have eaten the sub without drinking, couldn’t I?” It’s beginning to grow
dark…I even consider pulling onto a gravel road and letting it fly, but what if
a car comes along? I have GOT to hold it…10 more minutes. The lights of
Vermillion are glowing on the horizon. I see the dome! Jordan’s apartment is
only a few blocks away! I pull onto her street. I am squeezing my legs
together, jumping up and down and speeding now. I screech into her parking lot
and there is little Peyton, standing at the window, anxiously awaiting my
arrival, perhaps holding a “Welcome Grandma” sign. I don’t bother to find out.
I jam the car into park, not even bothering to shut off the engine and race
through the door and directly onto the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. I
don’t care that the front door is still open and the whole neighborhood can look
in and see me. I MADE IT!!! Ten minutes later, my bladder finally shrunk down
to a somewhat normal size, I exit the bathroom and greet the Krogman’s. Ahhhhhh…
Now don’t tell me you’ve never been in a situation like this! Granted, maybe
I’m the only one with the gas station bathroom phobia, but everyone has had a
bladder emergency at one time or another. It lead me to wonder about this
organ. If left unemptied, would the bladder ever actually burst? Has it been
medically documented? And if so, can it be repaired? Or would the urine secrete
out into the body and cause serious damage? I am hoping someone with a medical
background can fill me in on this. I fear that I came dangerously close to one
of the two outcomes that night. I feel a bit guilty about this, but when my
kids were young and we would be in the car and one would get the strong urge to
pee, I would give them a bad time by saying things like “Imagine a water
fountain, trickling sparkling water over the stones”, or something to that
effect and they would beg me to quit. This was when they were teenagers and I
didn’t have to worry about them wetting their pants. Jordan was cursed with the
affliction of not being able to go in a restroom if there were other people in
there. She would be dancing around and hardly able to hold it, then would rush
in to the restroom, but if somebody else was in the room, no can do. She would
have to hold it.
Now, this leads me to another facet of this topic…the public restroom. Have you
ever wondered why it is so hard for some people to push the lever down when they
are done going? I hate to imagine what their toilets at home look like if they
never flush. It’s not even that hard to do…push a lever. But inevitably there
will be one unflushed toilet in every major public restroom. Then, the toilet
paper holders are usually empty. And why do people feel it is necessary to
declare their love for another on the wall of a stall where people excrete their
waste? On a water tower, yes…on a train trestle, yes…on a boxcar, yes…on the
wall of a toilet? NO!
I guess that’s enough of this potty talk. I could go on and on with tales of
close calls and I know there are a lot of people out there who can identify with
my story. So if you happen to meet me on the road someday and I appear to be
doing some wild hopping dance, best thing to do is get the hell out of my way…I
am on a mission!