The Water’s Fine—Until It Isn’t

Adventures in Peeing After 70

I never thought I’d write publicly about peeing. But here we are. And if you’re over a certain age—and honest with yourself—you’ve probably thought about it a lot more than you used to.

Getting up two or more times each night is something that you have to get used to and hopefully, that does not increase over time. Having to hit the pause button while watching your favorite program or sports broadcast are events both you and the family start to expect.

In my case, it’s not just the meds. I had radiation therapy for prostate cancer—first at72, then again in 76. The treatment was effective, but the side effect was what doctors call “mild incontinence” and what I call “let’s find the bathroom—now.”

Then when I noticed a bit of swelling in my right leg. Nothing dramatic, just enough to raise an eyebrow (mine, not my doctor’s). After a quick visit, I walked out with a prescription and a warning: “It might make you pee more often.” My retort, of course: “I don’t think that’s possible.”

I was wrong!

Let’s just say I’ve now scouted out every store or restaurant that has easy access to a restroom in a 10-mile radius and could write a Yelp guide for bladder-friendly options for distances beyond that. Question: Are Depends out there in the near future?

But this isn’t just about me. A recent New York Times article asked the question many of us have quietly wondered: Is going to the bathroom “just in case” actually bad for you? (Spoiler: yes, sort of.) Apparently, our bladders have a training schedule, and we’ve been messing it up by constantly preempting the call of nature. Who knew peeing was like jazz—timing matters.

It turns out that your bladder has a built-in stretch-and-hold capacity, and when you short-circuit that with nervous habits or overhydration (I’m looking at you, wellness water bottle crowd), it starts to rebel. Add in aging muscles, prescription side effects, and the odd midnight glass of water, and suddenly your bathroom is your most-visited room.

Before prostate treatment, I thought peeing was just something the body handled—predictable, controllable, and forgettable. Now it’s a strategic operation. Long car trip? Map the exits. Going to a concert? Better skip the intermission drink. Watching a movie at home? Pause button within reach.

And heaven help you if you ever try to go back to sleep after a 1:30 a.m. pee and/or the 3:00 a.m.. You lie there wondering if that was it—or if another round is still lurking.

It’s worth noting that prostate cancer is now routinely caught early, thanks to modern screenings and experience shows that these early catches result in 100% cure or remission. Most treatments avoid surgery and chemotherapy, instead using targeted radiation. It works well, but as many of my friends can confirm, you pay for it in frequent trips to the loo.

But here’s the thing: there’s some solidarity in all this. Every time you glance over at someone scanning the restaurant for the nearest door, or see another guy make a beeline for the single-occupancy bathroom at a hardware store, you’re in good company.

Aging has its indignities, but it also has its laughs. And if you can’t laugh at how often you pee, you’re probably missing out on some of the best punchlines in your 70s.

So here’s to the water-drinkers, the pill-takers, and the route-planners. May your kidneys be efficient, your bladder be trained, and your timing be impeccable.

Just don’t choose the window seat—unless you’re ready to disrupt everyone else on the way to the facilities.

Inspired in part by the NYT article: Is Going to the Bathroom ‘Just in Case’ Bad for You?

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