Incontinence. Warning -- full disclosure.

Yeah. In-con-ti-nence. Again. One hell of a topic.

Let me preface this post by reporting that I had a very productive conversation with one of the representatives from my long-term care insurance. She called to do the initial interview to determine how many of my activities of daily living (ADL) are impacted by Louise. During the course of the conversation I learned I may be eligible for a waiver of the elimination period because of the nature of my illness which would be FANTASTIC because that would allow me to hit the ground running (I need to find more appropriate clichés). Additionally, they do not restrict me to an agency as long as my private aide is licensed and/or certified (note to self: check with Rose about this). Another happy discovery is that, when I am deemed eligible to receive benefits, my premiums are suspended. All good news.

So, back to incontinence. One of the questions asked of me was if I was able to maintain continence. The honest answer is no. Forgive me if this is something I've mentioned before but when the urge hits I don't get much warning, and the walk to the restroom is fraught with peril, as is the excruciating time it takes to do the pull-down. Long story short, there is a lot of laundry.

This morning was the worst I've experienced to date. I had a great night's sleep and woke up near 7 AM. Since I am back in my own bed I am able to turn and stretch and prepare myself to get up. I had turned onto my right side and was luxuriating in my beautiful sheets when it hit. Oh my God, how it hit. I called out to John to help me get up but, when I was finally in a sitting position, I couldn't move. I employed every trick I knew to try to distract myself to give me some time to make it to the bathroom. You know the feeling, everyone knows the feeling. Finally, the coast seemed clear and I got up and walked toward the bathroom -- about 20 steps away. With 15 steps to go it hit again. I had nowhere to go -- I couldn't sit and I couldn't stop. I baby-stepped along and almost made it. Almost, but not quite. With my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my pants the dam burst. I tried and tried to control it, to no avail. I stood there horrified as my bathmat bore the brunt of my bladder's breakdown.

Oh, Stadium Gal, where were you when I needed you most?

I peeled off my pants and dropped them, along with the mat, into the laundry. I turned on the shower and stepped in (still wearing a T-shirt) and washed off, disgusted.

I was under the impression this was one of the areas left unaffected. Clearly the ability to pee and poop are unaffected but your ability to control when you go must be what is compromised. What I need to do is make sure I adhere to a potty schedule, going even though I don't feel the need.

I warned you.