I’ve made a few vague references to peeing in my pants once or twice here, so the intuitive amongst you may have figured out that I (along with
thousands millions of other women, so don’t judge) experience occasional bladder issues when sneezing or laughing or jogging or jumping on a trampoline.
There. Now you all know.
It’s not a chronic problem or anything. Just an occasional (and minor) condition that I sometimes feel the need to be prepared for. So my shopping routine sometimes includes the purchase of panty-liner type products I lovingly call pee-pee pads.
I usually slip into Walgreen’s at an odd hour when the crowd is light and the chances are slim that I’ll bump into my priest or a neighbor and spare myself the awkward moment when they glance in my hand to see what I’m buying.
But today I needed school supplies and groceries and pee-pee pads, so I decided to be a big girl and go to Wal-Mart, where I could get everything I needed in one stop.
I scope the aisle I need to go down and, seeing no one I know, trot on swiftly to snatch what I need. My plan is to do a slow-rolling grab, then proceed to the shampoo aisle to calm my nerves. From there I’ll compose myself and continue shopping.
I get to the spot for my grab-and-go, but alas, the product I need is on the top shelf with only a few remaining, pushed back far beyond my reach.
I go around the aisle to look at this predicament from a different angle, hoping to spot a misplaced package of what I need on a lower shelf. Nothing.
I stand there. Staring. As if my glare and presence are going to make the packages move to a shelf within my 5’2” reach. Still nothing.
I glance around, and notice a really tall older man on the next aisle. Perhaps I could ask him for help. (He’s much older, and probably won’t think anything of it when I asked him to hand me a package of pee-pee pads.) Nope. Not gonna happen.
Can I stand on a lower shelf and try to reach it myself? (Visual: me lying on the ground after the shelf falls on top of me, surrounded by neighbors and friends, covered with hundreds of packages of incontinence products.) Nope. Not gonna happen.
So I make another lap around the aisle looking for solutions. (Lo and behold, the aisle next to the pee-pee pads is full of geriatric products. Hmmm.) I pull a cane off the rack of geriatric aides, and (shrugging off all previous anxiety) use the cane to pull the package I need to the edge of the shelf where I can stand on my tip-toes and reach it.
Smugly, and with a sense of accomplishment, I put the pads into my cart and turn around to return the cane to the next aisle. The man I had considered asking for help was now nearby. “You had to get creative?” he said. I gathered a smiled and managed a little laugh, returned the cane, and high-tailed it to the grocery section.
I gotta find a web site where I can order this stuff online.