In the dark cavern of my innermost being, a secret lurks waiting for discovery.  Why would a secret want to reveal itself?  Is it time to clean house?  This secret was so important.  Who would have thought, when it was important, that one day this secret would be in a blog for all to see?  My older sister would occasionally blab it to the neighborhood.  Perhaps it was not a secret.  I used to wet my bed.

From the time I was—well as far back as I can remember, I peed the bed.  No matter what advice my parents followed, I peed the bed.  They would wake me up several times during the night to take me to the bathroom.  Sometimes this worked, but most times they would wake me up too late.  I was not allowed to drink anything several hours before bedtime.  Sometimes this worked, but most times it did not.  I got used to sleeping on a mattress covered with plastic, and taking my bedding and pajamas down to the laundry room every morning.

Oh how ashamed I was over wetting the bed!  I did not stay anywhere overnight so I could avoid embarrassment.

My bed-wetting was not as frequent as I approached my teens.  Sometimes I would go three, four, or five days without wetting my bed.  Oh the joy I felt the longer I went without an accident!  Oh the disappointment when my dry spell  crashed!  I can still hear my mother saying, “Oh, what happened?  You were doing so well.”

When I was about 11, my class went on a week-long science/nature trip.  I took a chance since sometimes I was going a week without an accident, and this was only four nights.  We left Monday and returned Friday.  We slept in a dormitory.

I almost went the week without incident.  At about five Friday morning, I awoke to find that I had wet the bed.  It was two hours before they got us up.  I started to cry.  I tried to cry quietly, but Roy Buena in the next bed heard me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I would not tell him.  I was so ashamed.

“It’s okay to tell me,” he said.  “Perhaps telling me will make you feel better.  I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

He sounded so compassionate.  I believed him.

“I wet my bed,” I said.

“Aw,” he said.  “Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone.”

Roy was right.  I felt better telling him.  It was easy to hide from the others because I did not pee a lot.  Also, I did not have to worry about using the bed sheets Friday night because we were going home.

On the bus ride back to our school, later that Friday, Roy Buena announced, “Hey everybody!  Gary pissed his bed last night!”

My classmates stopped and looked at me.

“I did not!” I said.

And that was the end of it.  My classmates were so busy playing games and talking, that they gave Roy Buena’s announcement a moment’s notice, and returned to what they were doing.  Roy did not push the matter when he saw he had no one’s attention.  Neither he, nor anyone else, ever mentioned it again.  Whew!


Other secrets lurk in that cavern, but they are not ready for daylight.



About Gary Johnston

I am an imaginary number -- a symbol used to count and measure. As Senior Imaginary Number at Einstein Equations Incorporated, I facilitate the calculation of the impossible.

Posted on March 6, 2015, in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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