Urinary incontinence: One of those prostate things

Not holding tight enough

I found myself looking at a range of men’s underwear for a particular issue when I realised that my sturdy resolve to postpone a nature call until a time when I could access suitable conveniences was leading to embarrassment.

The pair of red trousers I wore recently turned a dark shade due to wetness, but I was literally at my front door, and the little control I seemed to have before was no longer effective; I had just wet myself.

As it stands, this is the second time I have had to deal with urinary incontinence in a week. It is cause for concern as it is understandable that the complete resolution of prostate issues will take time.

Wear to wherever

For the long-haul flights to and from South Africa, my incontinence underwear cost a fortune, and their care required special washing machine bags with a low-temperature and gentle cycle programme.

Tena seems to have a more affordable range with less stringent maintenance and care factors to keep them in use. Most of the time, I do try to be near public conveniences, and it also makes sense to use them as often as possible, to avoid being so hard-pressed and causing a mishap.

Generally, these are for leaks rather than for full flows; containing this within the underwear rather than allowing it to show around the front and down the trouser leg could be a saving grace too.

One is hardly sleeping enough

Another remedy to try

A hot bath with Epsom salts and English mustard comes from the yet unwritten book of Brian' s remedies. He has similar ideas that I have sniffed at which might even work, but I am always a sceptic first until persuaded.

Beyond that, he has recommended chamomile tea; his advice is an earworm. However, when I think of chamomile, I think of a lotion, and the last time I applied it to soothe my skin was during an episode of shingles in June 2009.

Obviously, I need to find something to deal with insomnia; in fact, sleep seems to arrive at any time rather than at designated times for that activity. I use my weekends to catch up on all the sleep I could not get during the week.

Keeping awake doing

While I do not feel the same level of fatigue I had during and for the few months after radiotherapy, there is still a lot of tiredness that hits you in the middle of the day, no matter how much you try to stimulate yourself. With the lack of caffeine, you just depend on nature to stay alert and focused.

Then, in my waking hours deep into the witching hour, I cannot idle about; I just completed five difficult Sudoku puzzles, as if that would tire out my brain. Besides, nocturia is an issue too; whenever I get some sleep, I wake up to pass water, usually four times during the night. I have hit the litre mark a few times this week, and I do not drink as much water as Brian insists I should.

It will get better

I have made a few adjustments, like taking my pills earlier and resisting the urge to drink late into the evening, but I sometimes have a dry mouth, for which swilling cranberry juice might be too great a luxury if you do not swallow after you taste it. I used to drink sparkling water, but I stopped because fizzy drinks do not help urinary function after radiotherapy.

I hate still water, yet I find myself having a glass or two, but never as much as necessary. What I have avoided all along is medically induced sleep; however, the insomnia is a long- term side effect of radiotherapy. I know sleep will eventually come, but I must find ways to prevent this from ruining a productive day.

Pissing from a great height

A turbulent bladder

And so, I felt the sudden urge to use the toilet and got up just as the air steward was walking up the aisle towards me, she was insistent I sit down, and I told her I had to go the toilet. She disapprovingly asked if it was urgent and without hesitation gave me a lecture on turbulence and the concern I should have for my safety.

I was between two minds of either telling her I had flown to South Africa 5 times last year or I had been flying since the age of 4 and I am now 54. Why bother? I sat down, crossed my legs and fingers hoping not to wet myself.

Checking on the piping

I appreciate she flies that route and probably has the training to handle severe turbulence, she was not tethered to anything and the aisles do not have railings. My being of a certain age was brought into stark reality by the Uber driver that took me to the airport.

His father had an obstruction in his urinary tract that resulted in him having a urostomy, the minor detail of him being 55 that I will celebrate in 10 days. He advised I should be seeing a urologist if I didn’t already have someone professional poking around there.

Without making too much of a thing about it, I would have hated to have to tell unnecessarily personal stories about a condition that requires an urgent dash to the loo. I suppose my shaving conceals that evidence of highlights on my beard acquired naturally, but let's not labour the point. I soon got to ease myself, a Nigerian colloquialism with emphasis on ease.

Awkward nature calls

When I got up the second time, I had the privilege of having the door to the lavatory opened for me without any discussion as to why, when, or what. Well into the morning before we landed, I needed another visit, and this time, all the toilets were occupied.

We had to queue up and one of the toilets seemed to be in use for long, an air steward opined that it might be a lady freshening up, I thought I saw a gentleman go in, but you never can tell nowadays, who is who. I declined an opinion with you never know.

I literally ran into the next available toilet, I wasn’t as pressed, but it was good humour as everyone laughed and when I was done, I was quite at ease, took my seat and wondered about pissing from a great height of 10 kilometres.