The parent, both panicked and angry, shouted back, “I’m your mother! If I scold you a bit, you threaten to kill yourself! What kind of child behaves like this?”
“What kind of mother are you? Are you even my real mom? All you ever do is mock me and yell at me!” the girl cried hysterically, tears streaming down her face.
The parent was now both furious and anxious. “I’m your mother! Of course, I scold you sometimes. But look at your attitude! What are you trying to do, scare me with suicide threats? I raised you all these years, and this is how you repay me?”
“Yes! You gave birth to me and raised me, so I might as well die to return everything you gave me!”
The girl’s heart-wrenching cries drew the attention of the people waiting outside. Sophia glanced at the crowd, and Tobias immediately stepped in.
“Alright, alright, nothing to see here! Everyone, back to your places. Dr. Smith will take care of it.”
He turned to Sophia and said, “Dr. Smith, you handle this. I’ll make sure the others stay in line.”
Sophia nodded, looking at the parent and child before her. The situation clearly wasn’t just a medical emergency—it was emotional and psychological.
“Let’s sit down and talk,” she said gently, guiding them to a quieter corner of the clinic.
“Everyone, stop staring! The young girl is shy. Go on, go have hot pot or something!” Tobias shooed the onlookers away with a laugh.
Only then did Sophia turn back to the mother and daughter, handing each of them tissues. Smiling, she said, “So, have you both vented enough?”
The mother and daughter froze for a moment at her words.
“Dr. Smith…”
Sophia chuckled. “Looking at your faces, I can tell you’re both the type to suppress your emotions and keep your frustrations bottled up. From a Traditional Medicine perspective, this kind of repression often leads to health issues. So, honestly, having a good argument every now and then can actually be beneficial. Letting it out, crying it out—it helps relieve the tension and even lightens the illness a bit.”
The mother looked surprised, but Sophia simply smiled and guided the young girl to sit down. She pulled out a patient record notebook and asked, “Your name?”
“Martins Brisa,” the girl replied between sobs, her eyes red like a rabbit’s.
“Medical history?”
At the mention of this, Martins Brisa froze. She clasped her hands together, nervously picking at her fingers. Sophia observed her quietly for a moment before speaking softly.
“In a doctor’s eyes, you’re just a patient. My job is to treat your illness without judgment or personal feelings. I want you to remember that I won’t look down on you, belittle you, or make fun of you because of your condition.”
The girl nodded faintly, her voice trembling as she replied, “My medical history is… I… I wet the bed.”
The last two words were said so softly that Sophia almost thought she misheard.
Bedwetting isn’t solely a childhood issue, but for adults, it’s incredibly rare, almost unheard of.
Although it might not seem like a major issue, for those who deal with it daily, the emotional toll is significant. Each morning brings self-blame and self-doubt, ruining their mood for the rest of the day. Patients often wonder: Why can’t I control such a simple thing? Why do I seem like a freak while others don’t have this problem?
For parents, the frustration grows over time. Washing soiled sheets every day and failing to find a cure for their child’s condition can be exasperating.
Martins Brisa’s mother, Abena , sighed deeply in her heart.
Her daughter had always been her pride and joy. Abena and her husband weren’t particularly attractive, yet their daughter had grown up with delicate features—rosy lips, pearly white teeth, and a charm that turned heads wherever she went. She was the envy of everyone in their rural village.
As she grew, she excelled academically and was never a source of trouble for her parents. Raising such a daughter felt like a stroke of immense luck for Abena .
But there was one issue: from a young age, Martins Brisa had a bedwetting problem. Initially, they didn’t pay much attention to it, thinking she would grow out of it. When she was seven or eight years old and still wetting the bed, they chalked it up to something that would naturally resolve itself.
Back then, they lived in the countryside and didn’t consider going to a major hospital. By the time they did, Martins Brisa had developed a sense of shame and refused to seek medical help, fearing humiliation. Abena eventually managed to drag her to a few doctor visits, but none of the treatments worked. Over time, the issue was left unresolved.
