Thanks Abby, for "breaking the ice" with your timely (for some of us) piece. I have had bladder "problems" since my first pregnancy in 1956. Worse at some times than at others, I've learned to live with it, I thought, but Time is beginning to win the struggle. I've always had a modicum of control, knew where public lavatories were located, voiding before leaving the house, watching liquid intake, etc. This summer however, it all came home so to speak, on a deserted street in Key West when control evaporated, so to speak. Turns out I had a bladder infection that lasted for about 3 weeks during which I had to work, standing in public view for anywhere from 3 to 7 hour shifts, 4 or 5 days a week.

Embarrassing as it was, I had no choice but to buy adult "diapers" as having them made life possible. There's more to the story, too much to detail in a response, but I realized how much I take control of elimination for granted. I do not want to be incontinent in the latter years of my life. I don't want to lose control over those processes which almost define civilization for all of us. My rather brief experiences with that loss has made me determined to stay healthy.

Still, I was glad to read your essay since no one hardly ever speaks publicly about this topic, and it's something we should do. When we learn how others handle these situations, we can prepare ourselves for the time when we might have a similar experience. So, thanks again, Abby.

Re: the Abby Frucht article

It seems to me that, in addition to trying to ignore the problem (for fear that she would have to accept this terrible reality), she was probably facing her doctor's suggestion to avoid diapers. If he didn't know at first that he had actually caused a tear in the bladder (as the article indicates), he would have pushed her to retrain her urinary sphincter. And the fastest way to do that is to have accidents. When the doctor realized that he had damaged her bladder, I can only imagine the shock and embarrassment he felt. Not only for causing the problem, but perhaps also for urging her---as is common practice with post-surgical incontinence---to resist using diapers.

I'm astonished at the level of vitriol and sarcasm in the letters. I thought the Abby Frucht article was brilliantly written, moving, brave, bold and honest. Perhaps these letters say more about the letter-writers than they do about the piece.

Thank you for an article that makes me feel a lot less alone. A series of operations and infections left me with little bladder control at age 23. I'll never forget standing in the grocery store 5 minutes from my house, trying to buy a quart of milk, frantically swiping my credit card, hoping nobody would notice. I didn't leave my home for days. I thought nobody could ever understand. Maybe someday I'll be brave enough to even attach my name to my story.

Yesterday morning, I read this article and found it cringingly repellent, but I tried to shrug it off.

I couldn't.

I have thought about Frucht's yucky self-obsession for one entire day. Enough!

What's next: Penile puss?

Please Salon: No more.

Damn, I dignified him with a ph. I guess he's really a fan--of what? frozen body parts?

I read through all the letters to find out what cryophan said, only to find hysterical drivel, but wisdom in the other letters. Problems with continence will happen to all of us if we live long enough; I have had mine since the age of fifty or so. Usually I can plan ahead. Sometimes I am just caught. Humility and a sense of humor help. A partner, if you have one, must be supportive.

This is an important subject and whenever I read about it, I try to remember not to take my health for granted.

On the other hand, I must also echo the person that said that the writing in this piece was mannered -- the talk of honeydew melons and seeds and ladles -- it's self-conscious and needlessly "arty" and obscures the message. The message itself is enough, painting it with rosy words isn't necessary.

And I agree, the choice to delay purchasing diapers was odd.

it may not solve everything and it may create it's own problems but just look at the alternatives

really, just quit reaponding to him. he's either as much of an asshole as he seems to be, or he's just baiting everyone for a laugh.

So is yours.

Your penis-envy is showing.

I suppose one can wax poetic about just about anything. I don't think the subject is inappropriate or anything like that, I just think it's sort of absurd and really reaching to almost romanticize what seems like the height of inconvenience and discomfort. And I agree with a previous post which called Ms. Frucht self-absorbed (interesting choice of word)and not just because she refused to wear diapers. The fact that she wrote this love poem to her uncontrolled pee is...silly. And I find her writing mannered and self-important.

NYChick, you fucking crack me up, ROTFLMAO!

I almost pissed my pants just laughing at your comments to the fake populist.

For 20+ post-menarche years, until I set myself free with a uterine ablation that I still remember with tears of utter joy, I was plagued with menorrhagia (that's insanely heavy menstrual bleeding for you, cryofan; it's a girlproblem.)

Every month, my body betrayed me, literally gushing uncontrollable floods of blood, clots, and mucus for 8-10 days at a time. I went through High School and University classes in utter terror that my my sadly inadequate triple-defense (super-plus tampons + two overlapping Ultra MaxiPads) would become soaked and overflow in the 90 minutes before I could get to another girls' room. It happened more times than I like to remember, causing me to eventually stop wearing anything but black on my lower body.

In light of this essay, am I to believe that somehow I would have been a bit more noble, a bit more admirable, a bit more fragile, a bit more literary, a bit more poetic, a bit more feminist, a bit more sympathetic if I'd opted to bleed all over everything in my path until my delicate, sensitive mind could wrap itself around the concept that I needed absorbtive equipment for my nether regions?