I joke with my friends and some acquaintances about my incontinence;
opportunities abound. Heck, my pad is even convenient sometimes. For
example, I got a massage Monday to try to cure some ailments, and when
she asked whether I would be comfortable in my underwear, I said, "Sure"
quickly and easily because a) I've had CANCER; things have changed
forever; b) dozens of strangers stared at my *naked* crotch in the
recovery room; heck . . . at least I had on Spandex boxer briefs this
time; c) my pad presented a pretty nice bulge in those skin-tight
shorts, if I do say so myself; and d) I wasn't worried about getting a
visible boner while she worked on me because I *can't*.

I change pads in the gym locker room, discretely when convenient or less
so if surrounded; it's little more than a quick sleight of hand in my
lowered drawers, and anyone watching closely enough to notice it is
watching me way too closely. Many men there have far greater problems
than I do. One's leg was mangled while he was looking for Bin Laden in
Afghanistan (10th Mountain Division). Many are limited by age or
infirmities, others by obesity (but at least they're in the gym working
on the problem, so no one faults them). I'm sure many have medical
issues we can't see; the most fit guy there exercises like a racehorse
on speed several hours every day because he'll die from his *next* heart
attack if he doesn't. Hell, I'm one of the healthiest guys there; I just
happen to dribble. BFD. And there are many smaller pointers than my
little three-incher in there, and they have no excuse.

Any male can get PC, wear pads, point south, etc. It takes a man to
accept it, get over it, quit feeling sorry for himself over it, and
maybe even talk about it if and when appropriate [such as a PC talk,
strange looks in the locker room (I haven't seen one yet), or explaining
to a masseuse why I've got something stuffed in my boxer briefs].
(Actually I felt no compunction to explain it; I just happened to
mention my prostate cancer and assumed she could add two and two.)

Many people know I wear diapers/pads; the only comments any one has made
have addressed my great attitude, not my "disability". And I'm in the
best physical condition I've been in since about the '70s, because I
chose the gym and sports over just-in-case, preemptive, unwarrented ADT.

A few months in diapers (it was 15-18 months for me) and a lifetime in
pads is a slight nuisance. I far prefer it to more serious problems,
like being in poor physical shape, a chronically sore knee, smoking,
having to work for a living, living in the eastern half of the U.S., or
not having a good cook in the house. And I never *expected* to be a
horny teen-ager walking around on three legs all my life.

Last but not least, who else gets to carry a concealed weapon even in
gym shorts? I'd bet that many an aggro dude wanting to play tough guy
would back down real fast if his mark pulled a smelly wet cat out of his
pants and shoved it towards the smartass. I'd far rather shove a
piss-soaked pad in a guy's face than risk breaking a knuckle on his jaw.
(Not totally unrealistic; the most musclebound guy I've seen in two
years in the gym was threatened just today by some average-sized idiot
with a chip on his shoulder. The big guy -- an ex-collegiate wrestler
and fullback -- backed down rather than go to jail for tearing the idiot
limb from limb. He got a HUGE laugh out of MY wet cat solution . . . and
I'd never met him before.)

There's no need to take this PC $#!+ seriously until it actually gets
serious.

I.P.

I do not think it is anyone's business.

And, like most physical problems, which are very important to the
afflicted, other people are not that interested.

j.

I'm an almost four-year dripper and only my spouse and one or two
close friends know I wear pads - except for those on this newsgroup.
I don't hide the fact I wear these things, the subject simply never
comes up.  The only consessions I make to pads are:   I always wear
dark/black pants, I always have a couple of spare pads in my pocket, I
always have a few more stashed away in my car, and finally, if I'm
going to be at someone's house for the better part of the day or
overnight, I carry along a couple of ziplock plastic bags to stash a
pissy pad which I then jam in my pocket and dispose of in their
garbage can or in the back of my car or in my luggage for disposal
later.  Unless they have a diaper pail full of disposable diapers, and
none of our friends do, I don't want to throw a pissed up pad in their
wastebasket.  Nobody has asked about any of these things and I doubt
anybody has noticed anyway.  There has been only one limitation on my
life and that has to do with playing a musical instrument in a local
community band.  This particular band wears khaki pants and often goes
some distance to play taking up much of the day.  An "accident" in
khaki could be a disaster so I don't play in this group - never did
very often anyway since the director is a moral basketcase.  The two
other groups I play in wear black pants/white shirt which is perfect
for me.

So, in a nutshell, I don't go very far out of my way to hide it but I
don't wander through someone's house waving a full pad around.  Then
again, neither did I ever do that with dirty underwear or even used
socks.  It's basically a non-issue.
Dave Perry

Interesting question.  After all I have been through with various
medical problems and surgeries I have more or less lost all modesty
when it comes to talking about such things.  However, the reception I
get from others varies widely.  My boss, a guy with children, does not
want to hear any details.  Some of the post menapausal women, and some
premenapausal who have had children, suffer from minor incontinence
and some of them are very sympathetic and they actually ask me about
how I am doing (to be clear I am talking about my incontinence, there
is no one at work that I talk to about the impotence).

I now keep a 52 pack of Depends Guards under my desk because I am
leaking a lot more since the recent sling surgery (not exactly the
result I expected).  Also there are some in my brief case and car.  I
use the plastic sandwich bags at home in an attempt to control odor,
but at work I just wrap it up in toilet paper and put the soiled pad
in the trash.  That is emptied every day, so I do not see a problem
there.  At someone's home I use the plastic bag and sometimes,
especially when the trash container in the bathroom is small, I will
walk it out to my car and dispose of it when I get home.

One more comment.  Because there is no way, that I can figure out
anyway, to handle the AMS 800 without dropping my pants I always go
into a stall to urinate at work (the AMS control device is implanted
in the scrotum and there is no way to get to it through the fly, plus
it is a slippery little devil so it takes two hands to operate).  I
often wonder what some of the men think, i.e., am I a sissy or
something because I won't pee with the big boys?  Now some know of my
problem, but most do not so that does bug me (yes Curtis, I do know
what they can do with it).

One other thing too please.  I very seldom wear anything but dark
pants.  Too damn many accidents over the past four years so I try to
play it safe.

Thank you for the question Alan.  This was interesting.

David S.

P.S.  Hello Dave Perry, fellow veteran of the leaking wars.

Hello, Alan:

It's a very interesting question.  I have hid nothing about my
condition from anyone at my college; I even spoke about it to a group
last week, and I freely admit to whoever asks that, at the moment, I
am incontinent and impotent.

My sentiments are somewhat along the lines of I.P.'s.  This cancer,
and my reaction to it, has never been just about me.  If I continually
whined and sulked about it, what kind of message would that be to send
to my two sons and to my wife?  IIt's more manly (to me anyway) to
have it out in the open.

And while I do get a lot of good wishes -- even from campus enemies --
the more important thing to me is that there are men who feel free to
ask me questions, not only about my own cancer, but about some of the
things that they are going through.  I've already been approached by
at least two of my colleagues who got the diagnosis and were
overwhelmed, just as I was back in July -- and there are other men and
women on campus who have asked me other things about symptoms,
treatments, other prostate troubles, and so on.    I'm not sure they
would have felt as comfortable discussing such things with me if they
hadn't sensed that I was being pretty open about it.

On the other hand, I do not like the feeling of making it someone
else's problem.  No one empties my diaper pail but me.  I buy my own
pads, and I usually do it when I'm shopping by myself.  It has made
for an awkward but amusing moment or two for some of my younger female
colleagues when they happen to be getting their tampons when I'm
getting my Depends at the local supermarket.

I try to be as discreet as I can be about changing.  The restrooms I
use on campus lock, so that's good.   The only time I've had to change
at a social event was at my sister-in-law's, and she and her husband
were very kind about it.  And while I do not like the Depends guards,
the briefs seem to work pretty well for me.

--charlie