I had a really bad bout of bronchitis a few weeks ago. The bronchitis has gone but the hacking cough still remains.
That's annoying enough (and made worse by the apparent early arrival of winter in Melbourne, the thin air making me cough even harder) but it's the damned bladder control that's driving me mental.
Honestly. I'm so sick of hacking my guts up only to feel that terrible squirt as my formerly proudly tight (toight, loik a toiger) pelvic floor muscles decide it's just all too hard and let go, resulting in wet knickers and a red face.
I need to start travelling with pads all the time, I've decided. I got caught off-guard on the weekend. There we were, strolling through the romantically gorgeous little town of Maldon (seriously, check it out - you'll love it!) when I started coughing...and suddenly felt that decidedly UNromantic squirt of urine. I told my sweetheart that I had to get to a shop asap and get some pads. Concerned, he asked "are you bleeding again". Me: "um, no, but I am coughing a lot..." "Oh...I see" was all he said. Oooh yeah, I'm bringin' sexeh back alright.
Wet knickers are never an option so I raced into the little supermarket and grabbed some pads, asking where a public toilet was. The woman behind the counter was very sympathetic and let me use their staff loo. What annoys me most though is that I was too embarrassed to say what was actually going on, instead making up something about unexpected perimenipausal bleeding. Why though? Obviously blood is acceptable, urine is not. But I just didn't want to say "I'm wetting myself every time I cough and have to pad up to cope". Obviously I am more vain than I realised. Years ago, I always made sure I never went anywhere without a spare pair of knickers in my bag. I'm about to start doing that again, only for entirely different reasons now, sadly!