Shy bladder on a plane and the airport bathroom afterwards

Last spring I had a flight I still call living hell. I’d had a few drinks before boarding, and an hour in I needed to go. That’s when my shy bladder showed up.

I made it work in the bathroom at the front. An hour later nothing happened. I was sweating, my chest pounding, up and down the aisle muttering to myself. When we landed I pushed past people and ran to the airport bathroom, and it finally came.

After that my bathroom anxiety got worse. I couldn’t use a stall unless the room was empty. At a football game I missed the whole first quarter before finding out about the family restrooms. One of those worked straight away.

The trip I was dreading

This fall I flew out with my dad, my brother and some of their friends for a duck hunt. I drank very little, and of course our plane was broken. Two hours late, a rebooked connection, and I locked up. I panicked on the plane, then went fifteen minutes after landing.

The field was flat and open. I emptied my bladder before we drove out and drank nothing during the hunt, and a few times I held it uncomfortably. I know that’s not a plan to lean on. I don’t want to end up dried out and unwell, so I’ll ask my doctor what’s sensible.

My dad and brother know. The friends don’t, and I’d like to keep it that way, since they came to relax. I think they suspect something.

I got so angry at myself that some dark thoughts came back. I’m telling my doctor about those too.

My doctor won’t put me on a benzo because of my addiction tendencies, so I need other options. When I’m home I’ll ask about outpatient therapy, which I’ve never tried, and mention the cyst and hydrocele, even though I was told they’re unrelated. Someone suggested a support group call, so I might sit in on one. I honestly don’t know how this goes yet.