Ultrasound desperation
Another that I didn't write, but that I do absolutely love!
My alarm went off at 7.30am, but I pressed the snooze button and enjoyed dozing until my bladder declared I truly had to get up. I made a quick trip to the bathroom and relieved myself of the eight hours’ collected content of my bladder. It was 8am when I trudged into the lounge and saw the sunlight illuminating my letter from the hospital. I’d read it a dozen times but scanned it again to confirm the instructions.
I was meant to have a pelvic ultrasound, which required a full bladder. The scan was scheduled for 10am. I was supposed to empty my bladder at 8.30am and then drink a full liter of water before 9am.
The ultrasound was the follow-up to surgery I’d had three weeks earlier. I’d been having pain in my abdomen, and ended up having an operation to try to find the cause. The surgeons did a laparoscopy, making an incision in my belly-button and putting in a camera to have a look around. They found several burst cysts on my ovaries, and so cleaned these up. They found several more cysts that hadn’t burst, and so they ordered this ultrasound for several weeks after my operation to see if things had settled down after the surgery or if I was going to have an ongoing problem with the cysts.
As I contemplated having a full liter of water in my bladder, I tried not to think about the week I’d spent in hospital after my operation. The first few days in particular, I was so sore it hurt to move. All my movements were much slower than usual, and I’d had a few close calls getting to the toilet, even though the patients’ bathroom was just across the hall from my room. There were a few times when little streams had escaped and ended up in my panties and trailing down my legs, but I had almost wiped these from my mind. Losing a bit of bladder control when one is in pain, moving slowly, and dozey on painkillers doesn’t count, I reckoned.
I was feeling much better on the morning of my ultrasound and measured out a liter of water. At 8.30 I went back to the bathroom and peed a little more, just a few drops since I’d just been when I woke up, but it made me feel better to know my bladder was completely empty before I started drinking all this water for my scan.
I returned to the lounge and started reading the morning news online. As I read, I drinking the water, pouring glass after glass until it was gone. It was just on 9am when I finished the last drop.
I went to the bathroom, this time to have a shower. As I stepped into the warm cascade of water, I had to make a conscious effort not to start peeing. One of my few vices in life is allowing myself to pee in the shower sometimes – the warm water is so relaxing! – But not this morning. I had to save everything for my scan. As I finished the shower, I glanced at the toilet and reminded myself that, unlike every other time I leave the house, today, I needed not to make sure I went to the toilet!
I dried myself off and put on some conservative pink cotton panties with a red waistband. I had no idea what I’d need to wear (or not) during the scan, so I made sure to wear some panties that were suitable for viewing by strangers. On top I wore a simple black dress and some black slip-on shoes – easy to kick on and off if necessary. By the time I’d dried and styled my hair and put on my makeup, it was time to leave for the hospital. I drove and found a good park, all the while aware of my bladder filling. I consoled myself with the fact that the ultrasound would be quick and then I’d be able to go to the toilet.
I arrived at the ultrasound department just on 10am and announced myself. They asked me to sit and wait, saying it would only be 5 minutes. I was relieved that the wait wouldn't be too long, but find myself jigging up and down a bit. I definitely needed to go. Ten minutes passed before the receptionist called me. "FINALLY" I muttered, as I leapt to my feet, but she said "sorry, I was just going to explain that there has been a slight delay. It won't be long though". I groaned out loud. "Are you OK" asked the receptionist. I was mortified, but my bladder seemed to be getting fuller by the second. I had to release some of the pressure, or I was going to be in serious danger of having an accident. I approached her desk, and said, quietly, "I reeaalllllly need the little girls room". I was hoping she would give me permission to go, even if i was only allowed to relieve some of the pressure, but she just laughed at me. "Yep, everyone here does. The fuller your bladder, the better your scan will be, so its great that you are feeling uncomfortable!"
I couldn't believe it. it felt anything but great, but I would clearly be seen as an idiot if I begged for the relief my bladder was screaming for, so I returned to my seat. The girl who had come in after me looked about 7 months pregnant, and was visibly desperate too, and whilst I was sat there she approached the receptionist 3 seperate times. I couldn't hear what was being said the first two times, but the third time, the poor girl was making a real fuss. She was trying to keep her voice down, but I heard her almost shout, "I am literally going to wet myself, please understand, I am absolutely desperate, I can't just keep holding. She was obviously denied again, and came back with tears in her eyes. It was only fifteen minutes since the initial delay before I was called, but during those fifteen minutes my need rose massively. I shifted around on the chair, looking for a distraction. I looked for a magazine to read, but the magazines all looked ancient and tattered, and I didn’t want to pick up a three-year old golfing magazine that some sick person had thumbed through, even if it would provide a temporary distraction. So I just stared straight ahead. My bladder was throbbing now, screaming at me for relief, it was getting ridiculous. The relief I felt when I was finally called was overwhelming.
"Miss Gregory" said the technician, with a friendly smile. I stood up, pressing my thighs together hard, and hobbled towards her. To my horror though, she said, "apologies for the delay, we had a bit of an emergency, but we're back on track now, it'll just be a few more minutes", "WHAT!" I gasped almost forgetting myself, "erm, I mean, I kinda, well, I need to, erm, well" "I know" said the technician, cutting across me, "I can see you have a full bladder, and that is great, we're going to scan Miss Sinclair here first, as she is having a bit of a crisis, and pregnant girls really have a hard time in holding it, you're next though". My bladder screamed at this, and I almost burst into tears on the sport, "oh, erm, its just..." I started, trying to find the words to tell her an extra delay literally wasn't an option, when the pregnant lady dashed over "Oh thank God" she cried, "I'm literally about to wet myself, please, please hurry". "You poor thing" said the technician, "I'll be quick, just another couple of minutes and you can let it all come pouring out". "NO" I gasped, forgetting myself, "It's my turn" I felt myself about to cry, such was my need, I had never felt so helpless, "Please, it's my turn". I was almost wailing like a desperate toddler, begging for the potty, and being told to wait her turn! The other girl hobbled to the open door, "Please hurry" she gasped again, as the technician ushered her into the surgery, turning to me, "I won't be long Miss Gregory, I promise, just cross your legs a few minutes longer, a full bladder will make our job so much easier too, you're doing great"
With that they just turned through the door, leaving me stood there pee dancing for all I was worth. I wasn't doing great. I really wasn't, I was nearly pissing my knickers in a doctors surgery, like a little girl whos waited too long! I dashed across to the receptionist. "I need to pee" I gasped. She looked at me with sympathy and said "I know sweetie, but it wont be long, you'll be OK". "NO" I shouted, probably a bit too loud. "I reallllllyyyyy need to pee, like, really, really, really, oh god, please I MUST go to the Ladies". The only toilet was behind the reception, and you needed buzzing through to use it. "Just cross your legs" said the receptionist, "Its just 2 more minutes and you'll be seen." "Cross my legs!" I gasped, "Are you k**ding, my legs have been crossed for the past hour, I am literally going to flood this waiting room, please, please have some mercy, don't make me stand and pee my pants"
I argued probably only for another 30 seconds, and I really thought the receptionist was going to give in, when, the door opeened, and the pregnant woman dashed through, skirt up to her waist, hands working hard between her legs. "TOILET!" she shouted, "Please now fuck, its coming out"
The ultrasound technologist who called me introduced herself as Bethany and invited me to lie down on the exam table in her exam room. She wasted no time in asking me to pull up my dress so she could start the scan. I was really glad things seemed to be going quickly. “I’m that much closer to being able to go to the toilet!” I thought.
Bethany asked me to pull my panties down lower on my hips, which I did, exposing the top of my pubic hair. She then squirted some clear gel onto my lower abdomen and I gasped a bit from the cold. She put the head of the ultrasound scanner into the gel, using the lubrication to slide the head around my belly. She started gently, but then began pressing harder and harder, trying to get a good view of my ovaries and uterus. Looking at the monitor, she held the head in optimum places and pressed keys to capture images. Once I got used to the initial pressure, I thought, “No problem, this is gentle, I’ll be out of here in no time.”
Bethany started in on small talk, which I knew was to distract me from the fact that she was scanning my insides and looking for abnormal growths. I was happy for the distraction. We talked about where we were from, our jobs… Everything was fine until she moved further down my belly and started pressing on my bladder. I held my breath and wondered how the pressure I was feeling had increased so quickly. She would press the scanning stick deep into the flesh over my bladder and swirl it around, looking for the perfect angle from which to take a picture.
“I can see you followed our instructions to a T. Your bladder is so nice and full! It’s really great, you’re helping me to get some fantastic clear images.” I nodded, vaguely aware that she probably didn’t see the motion of my head in the darkened room.
Finally she withdrew the scanner from my bladder, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I started to pull up my panties and climb off the table. Thank God it was over, I needed to run to the loo straight away! To my horror though, she said, “Oh no, I need to you stay there and roll onto your left side. I need to scan you from the back as well.”
Inwardly I cursed her, but I obediently rolled onto my side. The shifting of my body was accompanied by a shifting of my now massively full bladder. I squirmed a little bit, and Bethany said sharply, “I need you to hold still so I can get a good look.” I held still, aware that my breathing was becoming shallower. Bethany reached around and placed one hand on my belly while she put the stick on my lower back and pressed. The pressure of her squeezing me from both sides made me close my eyes and see white spots. How was my desperation building so quickly?
I was aware Bethany was still trying to make small talk, but all I was able to manage by way of replies were single word answers or “mm-hmm.” Then, unbelievably, she asked me to roll onto my other side so she could scan me again. I steeled myself for the transfer of weight of my bladder while I shimmied on the narrow exam table, lying on my right side. This time I was still and stiff as a board, my thighs clasped together to try to stem the urge to pee.
“Great, you’re really still this time!” Bethany enthused. I just held my breath and noticed for the first time a clock on the wall: 10.35. I’d been in this room with her poking my belly, pressing around my full bladder, for half an hour now.
After what seemed like an eternity, Bethany said, “Okay! We’re done. Now here’s a towel, you can wipe off that gel.” I sat up, eager to wipe and dash to the loo, but Bethany had one more instruction for me: “Once you’ve got the gel off, you can wait in this room. I just need to check the films and make sure they’re clear. Then you can empty your bladder and go.”
Hold on longer?! I couldn’t believe it. Surely she knew people were bursting by this point, having held their pee in while someone poked around their bladder. But it made sense that she’d have to confirm that the images were visible before I went to the bathroom, in case she needed to take any more pictures.
I managed a quiet “okay” and pulled my dress down over my belly and hips. The dress had fit quite loosely when I put it on this morning; now it was taut across my lower belly.
I stood tensely in the ultrasound room, trying hard not to think about anything. Breathe in, breathe out… I tried to summon my understanding of Zen and concentrate on nothing other than breathing and survival. With each second, I could feel that liter of water moving further and further down my abdomen.
Thinking it might be better to sit, I lowered myself into a seat, surprised by how painful the impact was of my body into the vinyl covered chair. I gasped and immediately crossed my legs. Almost immediately I uncrossed and recrossed them – was that a drop of pee I felt at my lips?
I told myself, “Okay, you have got to hold it together. Just a few minutes and then Bethany will come and say that the films are alright and I can go pee.” I shifted my weight to one side, hoping to relieve the pressure on my bladder.
I heard the door open and saw Bethany emerge with films in her hand, and I smiled broadly – she was coming to free me! But she said, “Sorry, it’ll just be a few more minutes before your films are ready.” I tried to keep smiling but was aware my face had crumbled into a grimace. I couldn’t believe how rapidly I was deteriorating. I thought if she didn’t hurry up and let me go soon, I would definitely wet myself.
I moaned softly, the noise escaping my throat before I was even aware of it. I realized I was fighting a losing battle. I was going to pee soon, and the only question was whether I’d make it to the bathroom before the inevitable happened. I resolved to walk the fifteen feet to the ultrasound reception desk and ask if I could just go, and that I would return later with a full bladder to repeat the scan if necessary.
I put my feet together and lifted myself from the chair, willing myself to walk on autopilot. Unfortunately I was even further gone than I thought I was. I took a step and felt a searing hot stream of pee squirt into my panties. I gasped and snapped my legs together. I froze in this position unable to move.
I told myself it was okay, that my bladder just hadn’t been ready for me to stand up quickly and spread my legs apart. All I had to do was focus and walk, step after step. I decided to bypass the reception desk and just go straight to the bathroom, which I knew was just across the hall from the waiting room.
Intellectually my plan was flawless, but in execution it just didn’t work. I unclenched my right leg and put it a few inches in front of the left. Another spurt of pee escaped, and this time I felt it trickle down my left thigh.
Instinctively I wrapped my right leg around my left and froze. I squatted in place, hoping just to be able to recover my composure until I could manage the next steps to the loo.
But the entire liter of water, the waiting, the holding, and Bethany’s kneading my belly with her hands and the ultrasound scanner had all added up to be too much. I felt my bladder giving up, spasming inside me, even as I clenched my muscles together to try to hold my pee in. It was too late – I felt my pee surge forth, through my panties and somehow out between my thighs. With my legs clasped and wrapped together, the pee spiraled downward, around my legs and then everywhere – some silently into my shoes, with the rest dripping off my knees and calves and pooling onto the floor. I rammed my right hand between my legs, trying to stop the torrent, but it didn’t work. I was standing in the middle of the ultrasound exam room, hand between my legs, pee pouring out and streaming down my legs onto the glistening linoleum floor.
As my bladder finished emptying onto my hand, and into the black dress material I’d rammed into my crotch, Bethany cheerfully opened the door, announcing, “Everything’s fine, you can go now!”
My alarm went off at 7.30am, but I pressed the snooze button and enjoyed dozing until my bladder declared I truly had to get up. I made a quick trip to the bathroom and relieved myself of the eight hours’ collected content of my bladder. It was 8am when I trudged into the lounge and saw the sunlight illuminating my letter from the hospital. I’d read it a dozen times but scanned it again to confirm the instructions.
I was meant to have a pelvic ultrasound, which required a full bladder. The scan was scheduled for 10am. I was supposed to empty my bladder at 8.30am and then drink a full liter of water before 9am.
The ultrasound was the follow-up to surgery I’d had three weeks earlier. I’d been having pain in my abdomen, and ended up having an operation to try to find the cause. The surgeons did a laparoscopy, making an incision in my belly-button and putting in a camera to have a look around. They found several burst cysts on my ovaries, and so cleaned these up. They found several more cysts that hadn’t burst, and so they ordered this ultrasound for several weeks after my operation to see if things had settled down after the surgery or if I was going to have an ongoing problem with the cysts.
As I contemplated having a full liter of water in my bladder, I tried not to think about the week I’d spent in hospital after my operation. The first few days in particular, I was so sore it hurt to move. All my movements were much slower than usual, and I’d had a few close calls getting to the toilet, even though the patients’ bathroom was just across the hall from my room. There were a few times when little streams had escaped and ended up in my panties and trailing down my legs, but I had almost wiped these from my mind. Losing a bit of bladder control when one is in pain, moving slowly, and dozey on painkillers doesn’t count, I reckoned.
I was feeling much better on the morning of my ultrasound and measured out a liter of water. At 8.30 I went back to the bathroom and peed a little more, just a few drops since I’d just been when I woke up, but it made me feel better to know my bladder was completely empty before I started drinking all this water for my scan.
I returned to the lounge and started reading the morning news online. As I read, I drinking the water, pouring glass after glass until it was gone. It was just on 9am when I finished the last drop.
I went to the bathroom, this time to have a shower. As I stepped into the warm cascade of water, I had to make a conscious effort not to start peeing. One of my few vices in life is allowing myself to pee in the shower sometimes – the warm water is so relaxing! – But not this morning. I had to save everything for my scan. As I finished the shower, I glanced at the toilet and reminded myself that, unlike every other time I leave the house, today, I needed not to make sure I went to the toilet!
I dried myself off and put on some conservative pink cotton panties with a red waistband. I had no idea what I’d need to wear (or not) during the scan, so I made sure to wear some panties that were suitable for viewing by strangers. On top I wore a simple black dress and some black slip-on shoes – easy to kick on and off if necessary. By the time I’d dried and styled my hair and put on my makeup, it was time to leave for the hospital. I drove and found a good park, all the while aware of my bladder filling. I consoled myself with the fact that the ultrasound would be quick and then I’d be able to go to the toilet.
I arrived at the ultrasound department just on 10am and announced myself. They asked me to sit and wait, saying it would only be 5 minutes. I was relieved that the wait wouldn't be too long, but find myself jigging up and down a bit. I definitely needed to go. Ten minutes passed before the receptionist called me. "FINALLY" I muttered, as I leapt to my feet, but she said "sorry, I was just going to explain that there has been a slight delay. It won't be long though". I groaned out loud. "Are you OK" asked the receptionist. I was mortified, but my bladder seemed to be getting fuller by the second. I had to release some of the pressure, or I was going to be in serious danger of having an accident. I approached her desk, and said, quietly, "I reeaalllllly need the little girls room". I was hoping she would give me permission to go, even if i was only allowed to relieve some of the pressure, but she just laughed at me. "Yep, everyone here does. The fuller your bladder, the better your scan will be, so its great that you are feeling uncomfortable!"
I couldn't believe it. it felt anything but great, but I would clearly be seen as an idiot if I begged for the relief my bladder was screaming for, so I returned to my seat. The girl who had come in after me looked about 7 months pregnant, and was visibly desperate too, and whilst I was sat there she approached the receptionist 3 seperate times. I couldn't hear what was being said the first two times, but the third time, the poor girl was making a real fuss. She was trying to keep her voice down, but I heard her almost shout, "I am literally going to wet myself, please understand, I am absolutely desperate, I can't just keep holding. She was obviously denied again, and came back with tears in her eyes. It was only fifteen minutes since the initial delay before I was called, but during those fifteen minutes my need rose massively. I shifted around on the chair, looking for a distraction. I looked for a magazine to read, but the magazines all looked ancient and tattered, and I didn’t want to pick up a three-year old golfing magazine that some sick person had thumbed through, even if it would provide a temporary distraction. So I just stared straight ahead. My bladder was throbbing now, screaming at me for relief, it was getting ridiculous. The relief I felt when I was finally called was overwhelming.
"Miss Gregory" said the technician, with a friendly smile. I stood up, pressing my thighs together hard, and hobbled towards her. To my horror though, she said, "apologies for the delay, we had a bit of an emergency, but we're back on track now, it'll just be a few more minutes", "WHAT!" I gasped almost forgetting myself, "erm, I mean, I kinda, well, I need to, erm, well" "I know" said the technician, cutting across me, "I can see you have a full bladder, and that is great, we're going to scan Miss Sinclair here first, as she is having a bit of a crisis, and pregnant girls really have a hard time in holding it, you're next though". My bladder screamed at this, and I almost burst into tears on the sport, "oh, erm, its just..." I started, trying to find the words to tell her an extra delay literally wasn't an option, when the pregnant lady dashed over "Oh thank God" she cried, "I'm literally about to wet myself, please, please hurry". "You poor thing" said the technician, "I'll be quick, just another couple of minutes and you can let it all come pouring out". "NO" I gasped, forgetting myself, "It's my turn" I felt myself about to cry, such was my need, I had never felt so helpless, "Please, it's my turn". I was almost wailing like a desperate toddler, begging for the potty, and being told to wait her turn! The other girl hobbled to the open door, "Please hurry" she gasped again, as the technician ushered her into the surgery, turning to me, "I won't be long Miss Gregory, I promise, just cross your legs a few minutes longer, a full bladder will make our job so much easier too, you're doing great"
With that they just turned through the door, leaving me stood there pee dancing for all I was worth. I wasn't doing great. I really wasn't, I was nearly pissing my knickers in a doctors surgery, like a little girl whos waited too long! I dashed across to the receptionist. "I need to pee" I gasped. She looked at me with sympathy and said "I know sweetie, but it wont be long, you'll be OK". "NO" I shouted, probably a bit too loud. "I reallllllyyyyy need to pee, like, really, really, really, oh god, please I MUST go to the Ladies". The only toilet was behind the reception, and you needed buzzing through to use it. "Just cross your legs" said the receptionist, "Its just 2 more minutes and you'll be seen." "Cross my legs!" I gasped, "Are you k**ding, my legs have been crossed for the past hour, I am literally going to flood this waiting room, please, please have some mercy, don't make me stand and pee my pants"
I argued probably only for another 30 seconds, and I really thought the receptionist was going to give in, when, the door opeened, and the pregnant woman dashed through, skirt up to her waist, hands working hard between her legs. "TOILET!" she shouted, "Please now fuck, its coming out"
The ultrasound technologist who called me introduced herself as Bethany and invited me to lie down on the exam table in her exam room. She wasted no time in asking me to pull up my dress so she could start the scan. I was really glad things seemed to be going quickly. “I’m that much closer to being able to go to the toilet!” I thought.
Bethany asked me to pull my panties down lower on my hips, which I did, exposing the top of my pubic hair. She then squirted some clear gel onto my lower abdomen and I gasped a bit from the cold. She put the head of the ultrasound scanner into the gel, using the lubrication to slide the head around my belly. She started gently, but then began pressing harder and harder, trying to get a good view of my ovaries and uterus. Looking at the monitor, she held the head in optimum places and pressed keys to capture images. Once I got used to the initial pressure, I thought, “No problem, this is gentle, I’ll be out of here in no time.”
Bethany started in on small talk, which I knew was to distract me from the fact that she was scanning my insides and looking for abnormal growths. I was happy for the distraction. We talked about where we were from, our jobs… Everything was fine until she moved further down my belly and started pressing on my bladder. I held my breath and wondered how the pressure I was feeling had increased so quickly. She would press the scanning stick deep into the flesh over my bladder and swirl it around, looking for the perfect angle from which to take a picture.
“I can see you followed our instructions to a T. Your bladder is so nice and full! It’s really great, you’re helping me to get some fantastic clear images.” I nodded, vaguely aware that she probably didn’t see the motion of my head in the darkened room.
Finally she withdrew the scanner from my bladder, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I started to pull up my panties and climb off the table. Thank God it was over, I needed to run to the loo straight away! To my horror though, she said, “Oh no, I need to you stay there and roll onto your left side. I need to scan you from the back as well.”
Inwardly I cursed her, but I obediently rolled onto my side. The shifting of my body was accompanied by a shifting of my now massively full bladder. I squirmed a little bit, and Bethany said sharply, “I need you to hold still so I can get a good look.” I held still, aware that my breathing was becoming shallower. Bethany reached around and placed one hand on my belly while she put the stick on my lower back and pressed. The pressure of her squeezing me from both sides made me close my eyes and see white spots. How was my desperation building so quickly?
I was aware Bethany was still trying to make small talk, but all I was able to manage by way of replies were single word answers or “mm-hmm.” Then, unbelievably, she asked me to roll onto my other side so she could scan me again. I steeled myself for the transfer of weight of my bladder while I shimmied on the narrow exam table, lying on my right side. This time I was still and stiff as a board, my thighs clasped together to try to stem the urge to pee.
“Great, you’re really still this time!” Bethany enthused. I just held my breath and noticed for the first time a clock on the wall: 10.35. I’d been in this room with her poking my belly, pressing around my full bladder, for half an hour now.
After what seemed like an eternity, Bethany said, “Okay! We’re done. Now here’s a towel, you can wipe off that gel.” I sat up, eager to wipe and dash to the loo, but Bethany had one more instruction for me: “Once you’ve got the gel off, you can wait in this room. I just need to check the films and make sure they’re clear. Then you can empty your bladder and go.”
Hold on longer?! I couldn’t believe it. Surely she knew people were bursting by this point, having held their pee in while someone poked around their bladder. But it made sense that she’d have to confirm that the images were visible before I went to the bathroom, in case she needed to take any more pictures.
I managed a quiet “okay” and pulled my dress down over my belly and hips. The dress had fit quite loosely when I put it on this morning; now it was taut across my lower belly.
I stood tensely in the ultrasound room, trying hard not to think about anything. Breathe in, breathe out… I tried to summon my understanding of Zen and concentrate on nothing other than breathing and survival. With each second, I could feel that liter of water moving further and further down my abdomen.
Thinking it might be better to sit, I lowered myself into a seat, surprised by how painful the impact was of my body into the vinyl covered chair. I gasped and immediately crossed my legs. Almost immediately I uncrossed and recrossed them – was that a drop of pee I felt at my lips?
I told myself, “Okay, you have got to hold it together. Just a few minutes and then Bethany will come and say that the films are alright and I can go pee.” I shifted my weight to one side, hoping to relieve the pressure on my bladder.
I heard the door open and saw Bethany emerge with films in her hand, and I smiled broadly – she was coming to free me! But she said, “Sorry, it’ll just be a few more minutes before your films are ready.” I tried to keep smiling but was aware my face had crumbled into a grimace. I couldn’t believe how rapidly I was deteriorating. I thought if she didn’t hurry up and let me go soon, I would definitely wet myself.
I moaned softly, the noise escaping my throat before I was even aware of it. I realized I was fighting a losing battle. I was going to pee soon, and the only question was whether I’d make it to the bathroom before the inevitable happened. I resolved to walk the fifteen feet to the ultrasound reception desk and ask if I could just go, and that I would return later with a full bladder to repeat the scan if necessary.
I put my feet together and lifted myself from the chair, willing myself to walk on autopilot. Unfortunately I was even further gone than I thought I was. I took a step and felt a searing hot stream of pee squirt into my panties. I gasped and snapped my legs together. I froze in this position unable to move.
I told myself it was okay, that my bladder just hadn’t been ready for me to stand up quickly and spread my legs apart. All I had to do was focus and walk, step after step. I decided to bypass the reception desk and just go straight to the bathroom, which I knew was just across the hall from the waiting room.
Intellectually my plan was flawless, but in execution it just didn’t work. I unclenched my right leg and put it a few inches in front of the left. Another spurt of pee escaped, and this time I felt it trickle down my left thigh.
Instinctively I wrapped my right leg around my left and froze. I squatted in place, hoping just to be able to recover my composure until I could manage the next steps to the loo.
But the entire liter of water, the waiting, the holding, and Bethany’s kneading my belly with her hands and the ultrasound scanner had all added up to be too much. I felt my bladder giving up, spasming inside me, even as I clenched my muscles together to try to hold my pee in. It was too late – I felt my pee surge forth, through my panties and somehow out between my thighs. With my legs clasped and wrapped together, the pee spiraled downward, around my legs and then everywhere – some silently into my shoes, with the rest dripping off my knees and calves and pooling onto the floor. I rammed my right hand between my legs, trying to stop the torrent, but it didn’t work. I was standing in the middle of the ultrasound exam room, hand between my legs, pee pouring out and streaming down my legs onto the glistening linoleum floor.
As my bladder finished emptying onto my hand, and into the black dress material I’d rammed into my crotch, Bethany cheerfully opened the door, announcing, “Everything’s fine, you can go now!”
4 years ago
