When Rain Hurts by Mary Evelyn Greene

March 9, 2010


Spring 2006

March 9, 2010.  Peter and I had a good time at the urologist’s yesterday.  Yep, its true, the urologist.  All of Peter’s doctors, it seems, are at least an hour’s drive from our home, which, when parking time and wait are factored in, turns an otherwise routine appointment into an all day, skip school affair.  The good news is there’s nothing anatomically or neurogenically wrong with his kidneys or bladder.  The patternless pattern of continence and incontinence appears to be behavioral and/or developmental.  So we’ll keep plugging away and hope that one day the issue resolves and we can check off yet another important achievement toward his rather daunting readiness for life list.  Peter’s first appointment, by the way, was an appalling experience.  Six weeks ago he was in a room just like the one we were in yesterday but instead of joking and flirting with the nurse, he had to be held down like a wild animal by two other nurses and me so that a painless ultrasound of his bladder could be performed.  Thank goodness yesterday was different.  He endured an ultrasound of his bladder and a separate, more detailed ultrasound of his kidneys with virtual aplomb.  The staff was readied for another round of capture and subdue, and they were all too happy to disperse when Peter quickly demonstrated his willingness to comply.  When the technician began the scan, I kept my hands on top of his for safe measure, but soon realized he was genuinely calm and wasn’t going to take a swing at anyone.  “Can you keep it there, Mom?” he asked, after I casually slid my hands away.  “I like it.”  Beaming, soaring, rejoicing and ecstatic, our eyes met with beautiful, brief solidarity as I returned my hands, giving his only the slightest squeeze.  The rest of the day went equally well.  We made up little games in the car to pass the time on the way home and then Sophie joined us after school where we embarked on a spontaneous read-a-thon.  One book, then five, then eight.  We took turns reading and the kids chose their favorites without escalating into World War III over the decisions.  Dinner was uneventful, a rare blessing, and Peter remained dry again after blowing his 4-day dry streak over the weekend.  We celebrated the complete normalcy of the day by having a family Wii night.  Indian Jones, Lego style, followed by a few rounds of Curling and Snowboarding in honor of the recent Winter Olympics.  Pat and I watched a movie, Children of Men, after the kids went to bed.  It’s about the inevitable extinction of the human race due to global infertility; inevitable, that is, until one woman becomes pregnant and against all odds, gives birth to a baby girl.  Even though it’s a dark, bleak film, the possibility of hope and redemption that tempts viewers in the closing scene reminds me of our small but extraordinary day at the urologist’s.  As the film so clearly highlights, we build our world, our societies, our families one day, one child, at a time.

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1 Comment »

  1. Hello!

    I have a little guy, age 7, who does not have to struggle with all the things your little guy does, so perhaps this is all irrelevant. I also know how irritating it is to get parenting advice from someone who doesn’t know you, so I apologize in advance. And finally, I apologize because I am coming to your blog late and don’t have any idea if this is all stuff that you have already tried and found unhelpful – which can make this doubly irritating.

    Still, the whole bedtime/daywetting thing was so distressing and overwhelming that I always feel obliged to share what helped me with my son. He probably could gotten dry sooner, but he had so many things that he was struggling with that I decided we would do two things – one, I got non-humiliating reusable pants that he could use to protect himself in case he had an accident, and two, I bought an alarm. And, most importantly, I stopped worrying about it. Again, this may not be an option for you, but in our situation, I realized that I was upset about the impact that his wetting had on our lives – the stink, the laundry, the interrupted times at school and out and about, the interruptions at home. When I was able to stop the wetting from having an impact on our lives, that instantly made life better for all of us and brought my anger level down considerably. (I know you aren’t talking about anger, but I did experience anger at the impact on day-to-day life.) It also made it impossible for him to use the issue to manipulate.

    Secondly, after reading several books about bedwetting and all the physiological issues that can cause it – even when there is no urological or physical deformity or malfunction – I decided to try the alarm process. It has worked tremendously well. Not instantly, but tremendously well. (I got this, at the suggestion of another parent, from a website called http://www.bedwettingstore.com – which was very, very helpful to me.)

    Anyway, again, I hope you will take this as information offered by one struggling parent to another. I can see how much you care for your kids, and how far you go to help them and only intend to offer information in case you don’t have it.

    Comment by E Carter — April 11, 2010 @ 12:08 pm | Reply


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