I figure this is going to be a regular thing for me, once I start doing it. Shall I start a category in it’s own right for it? We’ll see….
The things you don’t get told about having babies are numerous. But the big thing for me has been the change in ahem, bladder control. Although my distress yesterday has made for lots of amusement for other people, so I figure it’s only right to share it here with you.
I’m on the train yesterday to London, and it’s only an hour journey. I get to the station in good time, decide to get my hot chocolate and move to get myself sorted on the train. I could kind of do with a wee, but want a seat on the train. So I stay where I am. Having watched a couple of other people go to and from the loo, when I actually need a wee, 20 minutes later, I go to the loo myself.
But the door is closed, and the “engaged” sign is activated. I hover for a couple of minutes. The American Lady tells me that there’s no one in there. I keep pressing the button to open the door to no avail. So I decide to sit it out and wait. In the following 40 minutes, 6 people came to use the loo. A couple banged on the door. No response from inside. And no door movement. There’s only one loo on a train, so I sit there, getting more and more uncomfortable. And then, it turns to panic when the train stops and we are held at Harringay.
Hannah and Richard are in the office and phone me for something work related. I share my predicament and fear that I’m about to literally have an accident in the middle of the train. Where do you go? What do you do? Do I go back to the bin for my costa coffee hot chocolate cup???? Arrrrrgggghhh. Their *support* is not entirely useful – they are cackling with laughter and Richard is particularly brave with his comments because he’s not within arms reach of me at that point. Their making me laugh makes it even worse, so I hang up and revert to my pain.
And then with a lurch that makes it even more painful, the train goes off again.
After this, there’s the final injustice of it all. We get off at platform 11b at Kings Cross. I am hobbling along the platform and the first loos are for boys. The girls toilets have been moved as part of the upgrade. I’m on the phone – I think to Chelle, whimpering saying I can’t see a toilet. An older bloke tells me kindly where they are and I move as quickly as I can in that direction. You’ll note that I didn’t say walk, as that would not be an accurate description.
I get to the loo, can’t get the 20p and 10p out of my purse quick enough, and end up in tears trying to sort myself out. That’s my make up done then. Eventually, I have my time in the “ladies facilities” and feel much better for it. So much, that I can’t remember what the fuss was for. But then I see other people fumbling anxiously at the entrance and it all comes flooding back. (that’s an unintended pun there. sorry)
And on that note, I nonchalantly leave the loo, with very little make up on and saunter over to the tube entrance, thinking “no one will know how close you’ve just been to wetting yourself, it’s fine”. And then I see the bloke who pointed me in the right direction and he winks so I revise my self chatter in my mind – “only one person will know how close you’ve just been to wetting yourself, it’s fine….”
What do you do when you’re out and about and need the loo with no “facilities” to be found?
How do you cope?
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