No Shame

When I’m at my parent’s house, I have to help my mom to the bathroom. This means getting her from her chair in the living room to her wheelchair, from her wheelchair to standing in front of the toilet, to holding the bars my dad had installed, to pulling down her pants and underwear, to helping her sit down on the toilet, to waiting for her to go to the bathroom, to helping her stand back up, to pulling up her underwear and pants, to getting her back in the wheelchair, to getting her to the sink so she can wash her hand, and taking her back to the living room to sit back down in her chair.

It’s a little weird. I mean, I’m helping my mom go to the bathroom, helping her do one of the most basic human functions. I sit with her as she poops, and I make sure she doesn’t fall over as she wipes.

And sometimes my mom doesn’t make it to the bathroom in time. Sometimes she wets herself, and I have to help her change into a new pair of underwear and a new pair of pants. My dad recently had to change her sheets because she wet the bed in the middle of the night - she was so deeply asleep that she didn’t even register that she had to go to the bathroom.

Why am I telling you this? It sounds kinda awkward, right? Not a normal topic of conversation. We don’t normally share about bathroom details in polite company (okay, some of my friends do, but it tends to be with a more select group of people… mostly).

But it’s not awkward. When I’m helping my mom, in the moment, it's normal. It’s life. It's what I have to do as her daughter who wants to care for her, even in the uncomfortably intimate moments.

In the book I’m reading, Marie de Hennezel writes:

“Prey to confusion themselves, both children and partners in such situations [cleaning up for someone who is unable to clean themselves] frequently find themselves embarrassed, not to mention somewhat disgusted, with the result that the patient is left alone with a feeling of shame.” Intimate Death, p. 114

It’s normal, it’s not embarrassing, it’s not disgusting because I don’t want my mom to be ashamed. It’s normal, it’s not embarrassing, it’s not disgusting because it’s a part of life. It’s normal, it’s not embarrassing, it’s not disgusting, because I don’t want my mom to ever feel bad about asking me for help.

So now you know. You know the somewhat awkward, somewhat gross, somewhat intimate details of my mom’s bathroom habits. Because she should not feel ashamed or uncomfortable about it, and neither should I.