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As every woman who's ever been pregnant knows (at least here in
England) at around 16 weeks you have to go to the anti-natal clinic for
a routine scan and for some reason that I don't understand, you are
asked to have a full bladder.
Well, when I was expecting my first child I was given the appointment and the instructions and I was told to be at the clinic at 2pm on the Friday.
My late husband had to work (he had his own gardening business) so he'd asked a friend of ours, Jean, if she'd go with me. Jean was a much older woman and had had 5 children, she was only too happy to accompany me. She'd been quite good to me already, reassuring me about this and that etc.
Friday morning came and I was excited about seeing my baby's image on the screen and so, after waving Andrew off to work, I set about my day.
I had my usual half a dozen mugs of tea, plus a few extra glasses of orange juice and by about 10.30am I began to feel the need to 'go', but I knew I had to have a full bladder by 2pm, so I enjoyed the feeling and held on.
Jean called for me at 11.00am and we walked to the bus stop together.
We'd planned on hitting the shops while we were in town before going to the clinic at 2pm, but standing at the bus stop I began to worry a little bit, I was getting very desperate very quickly and couldn't stand very still.
By the way, I was wearing a pink flowery dress and white cotton panties.
I must admit, I was very glad to see that bus coming I really was, but I found sitting on the bumpy bus very difficult and I found myself squirming about rather a lot as my desperation grew very bad.
"Oohh," I whispered to Jean, "I don't think I can hold on till 2pm, maybe I'll pee when we get into town and refill again?"
"No!" she said, "you'll never be full enough in only two hours and they'll make you wait until the very last before you're seen. We'll be there all afternoon! That's exactly what happened when Ann had Charlie and it happened to me when I had two of mine. No, you've got to hold it, sorry"
Reluctantly I nodded my head and continued squirming uncomfortably on my seat. Suddenly a wave of urgency hit me, I sucked in my breath and instinctively jammed my hand between my legs and held tight. Jean gave me a sympathetic look, "I know." She said.
Then, as I stood up to get off the bus, I almost lost control again as another powerful spasm hit me, but again my hand and my willpower won and with difficulty, I made it off the bus. It was 12.30pm - another 90 minutes to wait!
I was really bursting to pee, I wanted to go so badly, the pain was sending tingles all
through my body. I was also getting a bit concerned too; I really was
having my doubts whether or not I could hold on that long. We looked
around a few shops, but I couldn't concentrate on anything but my poor, overstretched
bladder, it was really bursting and very difficult to control by now.
Suddenly and without any warning, a really strong spasm overcame me
right there in the crowded shopping centre, I looked around to see if I was being watched as my whole body began to
tremble, my bladder was screaming for relief and my mind was screaming
to hold on! I stood frozen to the spot, both hands jammed tightly
between my crossed legs, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, all my
strength and concentration was on holding my bladder shut, everyone was
staring at me but I didn't care, I couldn't care!
Finally the urge lessened just enough for me to whisper through gritted teeth, "Please, Jeaan, get a taxi cab and get me to that darn clinic now!"
Jean hurried to a nearby phone box and returned, she said, "It'll be here in a minute." The spasm had eased off enough for me to be able to stand reasonably normal again, but the desperation was so intense that my toes were curled up!
When the taxi arrived Jean helped me in and directed the driver to the anti-natal clinic "FAST!" The driver smiled knowingly, "Going for a scan love?" he said, "It's ok, I understand, we've got three kids."
He smiled, but I just glared back. Getting out the taxi was a nightmare but somehow I made it - don't ask me how. We walked into the clinic an hour before my appointment time, Jean said to the receptionist, "I think she'd better be seen now, I don't think she can wait another 5 minutes, let alone another hour."
The receptionist took one look at me standing there almost bent double, clutching at myself with both hands between my crossed legs with a pained expression on my face and agreed with her. So two minutes later, I was called in for my appointment, the doctor looked rather amused as I hobbled into the room.
I was asked to lay on the couch, but I couldn't get up there, I couldn't climb up. "Errr," I began, "I think I'll have an accident if I climb up there." I was so embarrassed I was almost in tears, he helped me up, almost lifting me.
The nurse smeared the cold jelly onto my stomach - "Ouch!"
I was still holding myself as I lay there, it was agony, it was torture! I knew if I relaxed for even a split second, that would be it, I was hanging on by sheer luck and I knew it too. Finally the examination was over, "The toilets are down the hall." He said and then added, "I'm going to leave the room for 10 minutes. See this old bucket here? A lot of patients are sick in it sometimes. Then he left the room. I took the hint and tried to ease myself off the couch, but as I went from a laying down position to a sitting position, it was too much and I could feel the warm pee escape through my tightly clenched hands, I COULDN'T do anything to stop it, I was peeing and I couldn't control it, it just kept coming, dripping through my hands and running down my legs!! I ran to the corner of the room and squatted over the bucket in total, sheer relief and peed and peed until forever!! I didn't have time to move my panties out the way so they were soaked. After about 5 minutes peeing, I stood up and assessed the damage; the couch was a bit wet and the floor was too. I dried the couch as best I could, took my soaked panties off and put them in my pocket and walked out of there and hooked back up with Jean, I must've had such a relieved (but guilty) look on my face. Debra xx
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