Years go by, you’re no longer a child and yet you don’t realize what was a secret then no longer needs to be a secret now. I’m 34 and I just noticed that what was a very embarrassing secret 24 years ago, known only to me, my mom and my aunt (as far as I know), need no longer be embarrassing nor secret.
So now I’m ready to free myself from what still is the slightly embarrassing story of the time I made in my pants.
Yes, in case you weren’t sure, I can tell you from personal experience, that people’s bowels really do unintentionally move when put in an acutely traumatic situation.
I was around 10 years old. My mom did something she’d afterwards regret and promise to never do again until we were older. She let me ride my bike alone along Bathurst Street, a busy main street in Toronto. I’d ride from Patricia southward to the JCC where I’d meet her and get a lift back home.
All this was without a helmet, of course. There was no law about helmets and very little education about their importance.
I zipped along and when I got to Finch and saw a green light, I started crossing on my bike. At the same time, a woman was making a left turn in her car from Bathurst to Finch. The sun was shining in her eyes and she had a huge sticker on her dashboard for parking somewhere illegally.
So she hit me. Just like that.
I fell to the ground, noticing with gratitude that my head did not touch the pavement.
One of the driver’s young sons poked his head out the back window in his hockey gear and yelled, “Are you OK?”
From the asphalt I said, “No, [you crazy kid, of course] I’m not OK. [Your mom just hit me with a car!]” I really was thinking what’s written in brackets.
Thankfully I was barely injured. But my poor mom… She had left after me and was sitting in her car at a red light on Bathurst by Finch. Suddenly she looked to her right and noticed a child on the ground, a broken bike nearby. She jumped out of the car and ran over. I was already sitting up and an ambulance had arrived. (How did people used to call ambulances before cell phones?)
I seemed fine but needed to be checked at the hospital. She may have broken my leg and they had to test for internal injuries. I was given the choice to ride by ambulance or by Mommy’s car to the hospital and I opted for the familiar (sometimes it’s just not the right time for adventure).
After some time in the hospital, waiting in between tests, I went to the bathroom to pee. While in the stall I was suddenly made aware of the disturbing fact that I’d pooped during the accident. I was shocked and a little scared. I had had no idea. None.
I called to my mom through the door who got really scared and broke open the door to see what was wrong (wow Ma, quite the strength!).
I was appalled. How did it happen, I didn’t feel it happen and I didn’t feel it afterwards? I’m 10 years old, not two!
We threw out the underwear and my aunt brought me a clean pair to the hospital. (How did she get the message without cell phones?)
This automatically became a deep dark secret in my life. I hoped no one would ever know besides those who knew out of necessity – my mother and my aunt.
But now I realized I don’t need to be there anymore. There is no shame in this story of mine. I look back on myself with tears in my eyes. I was 10 years old. I was a child. I was hit by a goddamn car. Little me against a car. And my bowels loosened because that’s what happens to humans during trauma. I am human and when I tell my story I am so grateful that idiot woman didn’t maim me (besides a small bump on my left leg).
There. Now you know.
Anything you want to share?