What To Wear to Hide a Catheter (or how I didn’t wear proper pants for 30 days)

There were lots of things I did before my surgery to try to process and limit my stress: I read a lot of WebMD articles (not helpful), looked at forums full of women who wore catheters, typically after hysterectomy, (really not helpful), started a blog (surprisingly helpful! 10/10 would do again.) But without a doubt, the single most successful thing I did to put myself at ease before my surgery was buy myself cheap, loose clothes on amazon, and try them on at home with a bag of change stuck into one of the legs. The weight of a bag of change was a bit much (no amount of urine attached to your body should ever weigh that much!) but I figured that if an outfit could hide a bumpy bag it would hold a smooth one just as well.

It was important to me that I wasn’t spending a ton of money on clothes I wasn’t sure I would ever wear again. I ordered clothes on threadless.com, an online consignment shop, and looked for wide legged or baggy pants, and maxi dresses. To be honest, I wouldn’t recommend threadless for cheap clothes ONLY because you have to pay for shipping and if they don’t fit you (or your bumpy bag of change) you have to pay for it twice. I found the below pair of flowered pants on amazon prime and wore them a considerable amount; even decided I would keep them because they hide sweat and are breezy in the hot Georgia summer. Beyond clothing being cheap (less than $15/item) and loose or long, I also opted for clothing that was printed or a dark color – with the goal of hiding leaks should they arise.

This post is the one I’ve spent the most time thinking about for a few reasons. For starters, “what to wear to hide a catheter” or some variation is my most searched phrase of all time. Secondly, while I frustrated, in pain, and miserable, “take a photo for the blog” was a silly, but welcome, distraction. Finally, I thought long and hard about whether or not to edit the pictures for this post. From the beginning, authenticity and honesty about this experience is something I put value in. That being said, there are no instagram filters, snapchat dog ears, or editing of any kind done to any of these photos, with the exception of cropping out my “lived in” apartment or random strangers in the background.

Pants from Amazon and Top from Threadless. Catheter cover made by my grandma.  These pants were the MVP – they hid both my cath bag and my panty lines.

I actually owned all of these clothes before the surgery but would never have worn them together. Bohemian gypsy became my aesthetic for a while.

Pants from Eastern Market in DC, but similar can be found on Amazon – the busy pattern saved me from the singular peemergency I had my second day of class where the bag detached from the tube connected to my leg. The second picture has some obvious lighting challenges, but the dress is purple and comfy cotton. It was long enough to mostly cover the bag while I was standing still; while walking you could see the bottom of the bag and the white elastic strap – my boyfriend told me it looked like a knee brace. It was very freeing (emotionally and physically; it was a billion degrees with humidity in May) to feel like I could go out in public with my lower leg uncovered.

Black maxi + belt + chambray was my favorite outfit except the skirt wasn’t remotely good for pantylines. It was also way too hot for sleeves.

This is what I actually wore to the concert, borrowed from one of my classmates. It was nice to actually get dressed up and go somewhere, although I regretted walking when I got home and realized I had an unfortunate amount of blood in my urine. That good looking guy who isn’t me is the friend I was visiting with!

I thought that I would be able to wear more of my own clothes (read: leggings) but when the time came, my athletic leggings were too tight to fit, and my fashion leggings were too see through when stretched. These leggings are Lula Roe and you can’t completely appreciate it in this photo, but they make quite the statement (they’re kind of an eyesore) But on the plus side, the neon pattern was very effective at distracting from the lumpiness and asymmetry of my legs. and they are the comfiest.

Real talk: getting dressed to leave the house was an important exercise for my mental health, but most of the time I was wearing the outfit on the right – huge T, boyfriend’s old boxers, and I carried the big foley bag in a paper bag most of the time. (I say carried, but to be honest, the bag’s use doubled for privacy and convenience as I kicked it across the floor. Kicking it kept it below my pelvis, which meant I had 2 hands free and I didn’t feel like I was getting kicked in the bladder by urine or air flowing the wrong way in the tube; 2 birds, 1 stone.)

As mentioned, light on the pants options, but http://www.verityslifestyle.com/confidence-catheters-clothes-and-cancer/ is the best (also, only) blog post I’ve found sharing catheter camouflaging clothes. She wears way more pants than I was able to, and it seems like she is able to keep her cath bag higher on her leg and hide it under shorter skirt. I was very sad when I realized that the tube to empty the bag was about 2 inches long and peeked out under most of the skirts I purchased that weren’t maxi length. That post is also a good eye cleanser if you’re having a hard time remembering what well lit, non camera phone photos look like.