Your stories

It was only because my Mum had a fall that I found out about the bladder weakness she’d been keeping from us all these years. Her secret is out now and she’s relieved to be finally getting the help she deserves…

My Mum is an active and fiercely independent woman. In her early 50s, she was a popular face within the local community and loved spoiling my kids. Her spirit and sense of fun kept them amused for hours – everyone loved ‘Nana’. But when these wonderful characteristics started to fade we couldn’t work out what was wrong.

She stopped coming to see us as often, and when she did, her visits were short. Even on the phone, she would change the subject if I suggested an outing and seemed much less outgoing and even uncharacteristically moody and abrupt. I really worried about her and found these changes in her behaviour quite upsetting.

Although it happened eight years earlier, my brother and I thought that my father’s premature passing might have caused it. But when I suggested talking to a doctor about bereavement counselling, she laughed and said she’d only “bother” the doctor with “important” matters, and that we were being silly. Then of course we started to worry if there was some more serious problem she wasn’t telling us about.

Mum is not shy or frail and she’s definitely not stupid. Her insistence that nothing was wrong made each suggestion of help more difficult. After a while I felt my efforts were viewed as “nagging” which was heartbreaking.

Then, one day I received a phone call from the hospital to say that Mum had tripped up on a step and broken her leg. She needed bed rest, but was otherwise well and would be home in a few days but would need to come and stay with us until she was back on her feet.

Mum asked me to get a few things from home for her such as some clothes and wash things and then asked me to pick up some sanitary pads for her. I sort of did a double-take as I knew my Mum was well beyond her menopause. She went quite red with embarrassment as she explained she got the ‘odd leak’ and needed a bit of ‘padding’. I asked her if that was behind her coming round less often and she admitted it was. She couldn’t believe it when I actually laughed with relief. I told her that like a lot of women who have had children, I had the odd leak whenever I coughed or lifted heavy things. She’d had three children herself but, surprisingly, had never experienced it before. I also told her that she’d be much better off with proper incontinence pads as they’d help her feel much more secure and they stop any smells.

I could see the worry drop away from Mum’s face; I think knowing someone as young as me, I’m 35, has bladder weakness and isn’t that bothered by it was a huge relief. She now admits she should have mentioned it to her doctor (or even me), the moment it first happened and not wasted months of unnecessary worry for both of us. So if you suspect someone you love has a problem like this, try and drop your own experience or that of a friend into the conversation to see if it triggers a response.

Pat is the lady in Margaret's story, read Pat’s version of the story and how together, they managed Pat’s incontinence.

When I lost control of my bladder and wet the cushion on my favourite chair I was mortified. The chair wasn’t even mine. I was staying with my son Terry and his wife, Margaret, while I recovered from a hip fracture. When my granddaughter made a fuss about me being locked in the toilet I was furious – I was trying to get the stains off the cushion! I felt shown up.

Marg came running and even though I felt awful afterwards, I told her to mind her own business in no uncertain terms. I thought I’d got away with it but nothing gets past Marg.

She kept dropping these hints about seeing the GP and I could feel myself getting hotter under the collar about it all. I’m not sitting there telling some doctor I can’t control my bladder! I thought it’d clear up once the hip mended but it just got worse.

One afternoon, Marg came into the kitchen with a magazine article. It was obvious what she was up to so, after I’d told her to mind her own business yet again, she told me exactly what she thought too! Apparently I’d blocked the downstairs loo with all the cotton wool I was using and she told me everyone in the house knew about my problem because they could smell it! You can imagine how horrified I was, but after I’d calmed down a bit, I agreed to let Marg take me to the doctor.

Our GP was really nice about it and said that she had at least three patients a week with my condition - and that they were no more nor less proud than me. I was very surprised to hear how common it is (well it’s not something you talk about is it?). I’ve never been one to rely on others and I found it hard letting Terry and Marg take over – I suppose I gave Marg a bit of a hard time.

A few months later, I ended up even more reliant on the family. My hip started playing up worse than ever and, to my horror, I was actually confined to a wheelchair. It was all very distressing but Marg and I muddled through. In a way, I think it actually brought us closer – you can’t be dishonest with someone who has to help you in the bathroom department! 

The best thing is, with the help of Marg and the information from our GP I feel as though I have my dignity back, I’m not afraid of embarrassing leaks or smells and feel I can relax and chat with the grandchildren and encourage them to give their Mum a break every now and then.  I use incontinence pads during the day and incontinence pants at night as I feel they are more secure.  There’s not a great deal I can do about getting on in years and having a dodgy hip but I’m still enjoying family life for as long as I can.

Taking care of my mother-in-law gave me a real insight into how a person feels when they’re reliant on others to assist them physically.

“Grandma’s stuck in the toilet,” my daughter shouted. My husband’s mother, Pat, had lived with us since breaking a hip. We’d had differences of opinion, but got along okay. Certainly, she hadn’t locked herself in the toilet to make a point.

When I asked through the door what was wrong, she replied: “Is nothing private in this house?” Only then did I recall the cushion missing from her favourite chair and realised she might have had an ‘accident’.

Learning about bladder weakness from magazines and the Internet, I discovered that 1 in 4 women get bladder weakness at some point and about 1 in 10 need daily help to manage their condition – that’s a lot people going through the same thing!

Our GP confirmed that it was extremely common. When I mentioned that Pat hadn’t been to the doctor about it, he said that less than half of those with bladder problems ever discuss it, so the condition frequently goes untreated.

Pat’s a tough cookie and raising the issue wasn’t easy. However, when it happened again, I told her we could get help. She was extremely annoyed that I had noticed, though I insisted I wasn’t embarrassed. I let things cool off before taking her to the GP.

That’s when things improved. We ensured she had ready access to the toilet and chose the right size odour control pads. Then, just months later she became confined to a wheelchair. Suddenly I was in the role of care-giver - a new situation for both of us.

The increased level of intimacy required during the daily routines of washing and going to the toilet was challenging – especially for my mother-in-law. Maybe it would have been better if I was her daughter, but it’s an enormously sensitive subject. My husband helped, but used work and his gender as excuses to avoid intimate care.

Now the priority was to somehow get all the tasks done with dignity – both Pat’s and my own. With trial and error we got a routine going using incontinence pads during the day that can be changed without her having to remove her tights, and incontinence pants at night that tear at the sides so they can be removed quickly and cleanly in the morning.

To get my husband over his reticence, I made him practice on me. Getting me up into the bathroom and then onto the toilet seat was hard enough but when I then told him to help me clean myself after going, he stopped the experiment! Even after thirty years of marriage, the idea of wiping my bottom felt really awkward for him.

Still it made him realise that this was something me and his Mum were dealing with every day and that, whilst I don’t mind doing it, I do need a break every now and then and it’s not surprising I sometimes get irritable.

He hasn’t exactly taken on toilet duties yet but he has arranged for our older children to take on more household chores and organised two nights a week when he and the kids do the cooking. And, I have an afternoon to myself once a week when I can go for walks, see my girlfriends for coffee or just browse the shops. We didn’t ask for this situation, but we’re learning how best to deal with it as a family.”