Hey there, it has been so long since I’ve blogged because.. life. If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, I’ve been posting lots of updates, but I’ve been too lazy to write anything. Yesterday, however, I had this experience that seemed very blog-worthy. So here I am, for your reading pleasure:

 

The past few days, it’s been like a thousand degrees out, and it’s too much — especially for October. I’m taking this Chemistry class in Fallbrook, because it was the best fit for my schedule and the professor is really good, but Fallbrook is about a 30 minute drive from where I live, and it’s inland, and it’s about 10 degrees hotter there —  all things I should have considered before enrolling, but didn’t.

 

As I was driving to school that morning, I was super tired. I’ve had a lot of pain lately, and I haven’t been sleeping well. So, when we stopped for gas, I got a Monster to kickstart my brain. It was cold and delicious, I drank almost all of it without thinking of the consequences, and it was working! By the time I rolled into my classroom, I felt like an actual human.

 

There I am, listening intently and taking notes, like the diligent student that I am, when I get the urge. I rarely pee in public because public restrooms are not accommodating for people with disabilities like mine. Over the years I thought I had developed this “bladder of steel” that I am quite proud of, but it turns out the reason I can hold it so long is less because of my exceptional bladder, and more because I deprive myself of liquids until I get home.

 

I try to ignore it, but with each passing minute I get more and more uncomfortable and I know I’m going to have to give in and go. My nurse and I walk to my van to get my bathroom bag, and proceed to the tiny, non-air-conditioned, inaccessible restroom.

 

This might be too much information, so feel free to skip this part, but you’d be surprised how often I get asked how I go to the bathroom — even by adults. Well, I cannot hold myself up on a regular toilet, so I go in a female urinal, which is basically an oddly shaped cup. The best way for me to use it, is to lay down, so I can pull my pants all the way down for easier access. I tell whoever is helping me how to position it, I go, then they pull my pants up, empty the cup into the toilet, and put me back in my chair.

 

Obviously, laying down is not really an option in a public restroom. Even if it has a changing table (which this bathroom did not), they are usually too small for me. So, years ago, my mom and I devised a way that I can go in my chair. I recline my chair all the way back, scoot my butt to the very edge of my seat, stretch my pants out of the way as much as possible, and proceed as described above. It sounds easy enough, but it’s difficult to do with my pants in the way, and there is a risk of spilling — especially if the person helping me is inexperienced.

 

Aside from that there’s the added challenge of working in such a confined space. This handicapped stall barely fit my wheelchair in its reclined position with just enough room for my nurse to stand. We finally get everything set up, and I start going, praying to Jesus the whole time that she doesn’t spill it on me; I don’t think I could handle the humiliation of rolling out of there drenched in pee.

 

Speaking of humiliation, as I’m going, someone else comes in. I start panicking, thinking of all the things this stranger will think of me if she hears me coaching the nurse on how to take me pee, or what if we do spill, and the stranger sees it on my pants?

 

I just can’t think about that. I finish (with no spills, thank the Lord!), and the stranger’s still in there. I can’t leave with her in there. I have to fill the urinal with water and dump it in the toilet again so it doesn’t get stinky. I don’t want her to see the urinal, so my nurse and I stay in the cramped, way-too-hot bathroom stall, sweating profusely, and waiting for the stranger to get out of there. She finally leaves, and we come out of our stall. My nurse is filling the urinal in the sink when another stranger walks in. She looks right at the urinal, and I die a little on the inside.

 

Now that it’s over, I keep thinking of how ridiculous it is that we are approaching the year 2020, and there are countless people in situations similar to mine that either can’t use public restrooms, or who choose not to because it is too difficult. Instead, we damage our bodies by holding it too long or by purposely dehydrating ourselves.

 

The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t care that that girl walked in. The problem is not with me or my urinal — some people walk, some roll, some pee in toilets, some pee in weird looking cups, and ain’t nothing wrong with any of it! The only real problem is that we live in a world that gives almost zero consideration to people with disabilities when designing public spaces. This is just one of many examples in my experience. I feel like in this day and age, we can do better, and we should do better.