I had to drive DD to a school entrance exam an hour away the other morning. Used the toilet before I left but for some reason needed to shit again quite badly by the time I reached the destination. (Something wrong with my stomach that day.)
Dropped her and DW off and was wondering if I was going to make it home. Waves of nausea from holding it in that came and went. At times I felt I was seconds away from losing control, but then the urgency would recede a little, before coming back stronger. Diverting from my route in the hope of finding somewhere not really a viable strategy on an arterial road in London rush-hour traffic.
Survived half-an-hour and at that point the prospect of shitting in the street became a more attractive option than shitting in my pants while driving, which felt like the certain outcome of trying to continue. Pulled into a quiet side street behind the main road. Short cul-de-sac with one block of flats and entrances to some industrial estates. Only humans about a parked works van with two guys eyeing me.
Thought I'd check the main road for cafes etc, most were shut but there was a Pret across the road open. Went in, clocked I needed a code for access to the toilet, walked past the queue at the till and told lady I urgently needed toilet. I think I communicated my desperation in the way I asked, she gave me the code immediately. If she hadn't, I would have gone back to the back street where I parked and done it in the gutter. I really wouldn't physically have an alternative by then. (Other than shitting in my car.)
I've had decades of adulthood in which I've usually been competent at life. I've never in my life been this desperate before, not sure what went wrong or what I could have done differently.
(I couldn't actually have bought anything in Pret. I usually keep a payment card in my car for emergencies but for some reason it wasn't there that day.)