I was a bed-wetter, a serious bed-wetter. I'm talking massive mattress seepage. It was so bad that when I spent the night at friends' houses I laid awake most of the night, waiting for the house to be quiet so I could sneak to the bathroom and find a towel to slip under me. Of course a few times I drifted off to sleep and peed anyway. At home I slept on a rubber covered mattress. It was like a big condom with a zipper on top. It made crunchy sounds when I moved.
The wetting was a constant source of fear of eventual humiliation, especially when I slept at my Dad's. My step-mother had been warned of my "condition" and mentioned it in only hushed tones and left a clean set of sheets on my bed each day and asked if I would kindly put the wet ones in the laundry myself. I can't really blame her for that.
My sister really suffered, she had to share the bed with me sometimes when we were traveling.I don't remember her ever making me feel bad about it though.
Today I found out my "condition" has a name. Enuresis. It's not so embarrassing when you call it that.
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