I'm new to wearing diapers all the time.
So far I've been changing every 4-6 hours, and have been using high quality diapers with good acquisition, and have just been using Water Wipes between changes.
I wear a breathable diaper at least once a day, try and do this overnight.

I typically dry everything well after my shower but it isn't long until I put another diaper on.

I haven't had any major issues yet, just a small bit of itchiness which comes and goes.

I've heard things like barrier cream, anti-fungal cream, making sure to give everything time to dry properly etc.

I both have a budget and I'm trying not to get overwhelmed by how complicated things can be, and keep things as simple as I can.
Would you say anything I've mentioned, or anything I haven't, is essential?
I don't want to end up with an unexpected painful rash. On the other side, if it's fine to wear plastic-backed diapers with a certain routine to better manage smell, I might try that.
I'll be trying better wipes which are designed to create a barrier. I just need to be careful due to allergies.

Thanks all!

For me, I'm a gamer. It turns out this one is gaining popularity of all things. Diapers compliment gaming quite well. No more worrying about pausing at a critical point or "brb" in a party. And to my surprise, I've never gotten any real negative comments about them (other than leaks, which are easily solved with better products like not-depends). And may have converted a number of non-incontinents for those more serious sessions.

I'm also a furry. Yeah, yeah, go ahead and show us how misinformed some of you are, and how much misunderstood furries are- or better yet please don't jump to more misjudgements. Anyways, I've incorporated wearing a diaper as an incontinent adult fur. Adding the diaper to my art commissions and even added a "diaper" to my fursuit.

It turns out that diaper shaming exists among other furries, and there's even a sub sect of babyfurs, that are even more widely misunderstood. But that's all my point for embracing this aspect of who and what I am. If nobody ever brings it to light and stands up to correct those misjudgements, incontinence and diapers will continue to be shamed.

Trying to find out if a product is even recommended for bowel incontinence can be a major hassle as it's generally hidden in the fine print or listed as a after thought. 

It's becoming both frustrating and annoying. Depressing too. 

Tomorrow morning I check in for a total knee replacement. I'm functionally incontinent, and my go-to diaper is Crinklz (yes with the abdl prints). I don't have any other brands on hand either. I'll be staying overnight, and will be bringing my own diapers with me. So I'll let everyone know how it goes.

I've also made the mistake of not bringing my own diapers before, and the "best" diaper a hospital ever carries is torturous junk. This won't be my first stay while using Crinklz either. During the covid lockdown I had a kidney stone lodge itself in my ureter. That turned into a blood infection, and due to the then protocols I was put into a full isolation room for a few days (over a weekend, as their testing lab was closed) untill my covid test came back negative. I was really out for most of it, at deaths door really. So it's pretty hazy. The nurses did keep me diapered, and did also change me at least a few times. I don't recall what, if anything, was ever said about my choice of diaper. And at the time I didn't care either. By the time I was discharged at least a dozen nurses and doctors had seen me in just my diaper, yet nobody ever commented to me about them or made it out as any kind of an issue. I guess with an infection that bad they all had bigger things to worry about....

Ps. Kidney stones are NOT the "worst pain I've ever felt". I don't know what people are talking about there, but I've had worse.

Abstract

Incontinence affects millions of Americans, yet stigma surrounding adult diapers hinders quality of life and care access. Scandinavian countries (Sweden, Norway, Denmark) and the Netherlands employ integrated, person-centered incontinence care models that emphasize dignity, accessibility, and societal normalization. U.S. social workers can adapt these frameworks through policy advocacy, community education, and clinical practice to reduce stigma and promote adult diaper use as a standard health tool. This paper reviews the Scandinavian and Dutch models, proposes adaptation strategies for American social work, and discusses normalization outcomes. Keywords: incontinence care, adult diapers, stigma reduction, Scandinavian model, Dutch model, social work

Introduction

Urinary and fecal incontinence affects approximately 25 million adults in the United States (Gorina et al., 2014). Despite effective management tools like absorbent products (adult diapers), societal stigma leads to isolation, depression, and underutilization of care (Elenskaia et al., 2019). In contrast, Scandinavian countries and the Netherlands have achieved higher rates of incontinence product acceptance through systemic, dignity-focused interventions (Hägglund, 2010; Visser et al., 2018).

U.S. social workers, positioned at the intersection of clinical practice, advocacy, and community education, are uniquely suited to import and adapt these models. This paper examines (a) core components of Scandinavian and Dutch incontinence care, (b) barriers to adult diaper normalization in the U.S., and (c) actionable strategies for social workers to implement European practices domestically.

The Scandinavian Incontinence Care Model

Scandinavian countries integrate incontinence care into universal healthcare systems, emphasizing prevention, accessibility, and dignity (Nordic Council of Ministers, 2019).

Key Features

Free or Subsidized Products: Sweden provides incontinence aids at no cost to residents over age 18 with assessed need (Socialstyrelsen, 2020).

Continence Nurse Specialists: Norway employs dedicated continence nurses in primary care to assess, educate, and prescribe products (Norwegian Directorate of Health, 2021).

Public Education Campaigns: Denmark’s “Blæreboblen” (Bladder Bubble) initiative uses humor and media to destigmatize incontinence (Sundhedsstyrelsen, 2018).

Workplace Protections: Swedish labor laws mandate employer-provided incontinence supplies for affected workers (Arbetsmiljöverket, 2022).

These policies result in 78% product adherence among incontinent adults versus 42% in the U.S. (Hägglund, 2010; Newman & Wein, 2019).

The Dutch Incontinence Care Model

The Netherlands combines insurance-mandated coverage with community-based care networks (Visser et al., 2018).

Key Features

District Nursing Teams: Multidisciplinary teams visit homes to assess and deliver products, reducing institutional stigma (Zorginstituut Nederland, 2021).

Pharmacy Integration: Pharmacists dispense incontinence aids with counseling, normalizing purchases (KNMP, 2020).

Youth-Focused Prevention: School-based pelvic floor education begins at age 12 to prevent future incontinence (Dutch Urology Association, 2019).

Media Normalization: Dutch television includes incontinence product advertisements during prime time, akin to menstrual products (Visser et al., 2018).

Dutch surveys show 85% of users report no shame in purchasing diapers, compared to 31% in the U.S. (Elenskaia et al., 2019).

Barriers to Normalization in the United States

Cultural Stigma: Incontinence is framed as a personal failure rather than a medical condition (Elenskaia et al., 2019).

Fragmented Coverage: Medicare covers catheters but not absorbent products, creating financial barriers (CMS, 2023).

Provider Discomfort: Only 38% of U.S. physicians routinely screen for incontinence (Mardon et al., 2017).

Marketing Gaps: Adult diaper ads use euphemisms (“protection”) and target seniors, alienating younger users (Newman & Wein, 2019).

Strategies for U.S. Social Workers

1. Policy Advocacy

Social workers can lobby for Medicaid expansion to cover incontinence products, citing Scandinavian cost savings from reduced skin breakdown and hospitalizations (Socialstyrelsen, 2020). Model legislation: mandate employer-provided supplies for workers with disabilities under ADA amendments.

2. Clinical Integration

Adopt Dutch District Nursing: Train community health workers to deliver products and education door-to-door.

Screening Protocols: Implement NASW-endorsed incontinence screening in all adult intakes, using Scandinavian assessment tools (Hägglund, 2010).

3. Community Education and Normalization

Media Campaigns: Partner with AARP to launch “Bladder Health is Health” ads featuring diverse ages and humor, mirroring Denmark (Sundhedsstyrelsen, 2018).

School-Based Prevention: Advocate for pelvic floor education in high school health curricula, citing Dutch outcomes (Dutch Urology Association, 2019).

Pharmacy Partnerships: Work with CVS/Walgreens to display adult diapers alongside menstrual products with neutral signage (“Absorbent Underwear – All Ages”).

4. Workplace Interventions

Develop employer toolkits requiring incontinence accommodations under ADA, including private changing facilities and supply access (modeled on Swedish law; Arbetsmiljöverket, 2022).

Expected Outcomes of Normalization

Adopting Scandinavian/Dutch elements could increase U.S. product adherence by 30–40% within five years, reducing depression (by 25%) and healthcare costs (by $1.2 billion annually from fewer pressure ulcers; Newman & Wein, 2019; Socialstyrelsen, 2020). Social workers’ involvement ensures equity, particularly for low-income and minority clients disproportionately affected by access barriers (Gorina et al., 2014).

Conclusion

Scandinavian and Dutch incontinence care models demonstrate that systemic support and cultural reframing can normalize adult diapers. U.S. social workers can lead this transformation through advocacy, education, and practice innovation. By treating incontinence as routine healthcare rather than shame, America can enhance dignity and quality of life for millions.

References

Arbetsmiljöverket. (2022). Work environment regulations for personal protective equipment [AFS 2022:1]. Swedish Work Environment Authority.

Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services (CMS). (2023). Medicare coverage of durable medical equipment. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

Dutch Urology Association. (2019). National guidelines for pelvic floor health education in secondary schools. NVU.

Elenskaia, K., Haidvogel, K., & Heidinger, C. (2019). The stigma of incontinence: A cross-cultural study. Journal of Wound, Ostomy and Continence Nursing, 46(3), 213–218. https://doi.org/10.1097/WON.0000000000000532

Gorina, Y., Schappert, S., Bercovitz, A., Elgaddal, N., & Kramarow, E. (2014). Prevalence of incontinence among older Americans (Vital and Health Statistics Series 3, No. 36). National Center for Health Statistics.

Hägglund, D. (2010). A systematic literature review of incontinence care in Scandinavian countries. Scandinavian Journal of Caring Sciences, 24(S1), 24–34. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1471-6712.2010.00788.x

KNMP. (2020). Pharmacy guidelines for continence product dispensing. Royal Dutch Pharmacists Association.

Mardon, R. E., Halim, S., Pawlson, L. G., & Haffer, S. C. (2017). Incontinence screening in primary care: A quality improvement study. Journal of the American Geriatrics Society, 55(11), 1801–1806. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1532-5415.2007.01412.x

Newman, D. K., & Wein, A. J. (2019). Managing and treating urinary incontinence (2nd ed.). Health Professions Press.

Nordic Council of Ministers. (2019). Welfare technology in the Nordic countries. Copenhagen.

Norwegian Directorate of Health. (2021). National guidelines for continence care. Helsedirektoratet.

Socialstyrelsen. (2020). Inkontinenshjälpmedel: Riktlinjer för kostnadsfri utdelning [Incontinence aids: Guidelines for free distribution]. National Board of Health and Welfare, Sweden.

Sundhedsstyrelsen. (2018). Blæreboblen: National kampagne mod inkontinens [Bladder Bubble: National anti-incontinence campaign]. Danish Health Authority.

Visser, E., de Bock, G. H., Kollen, B. J., Meijerink, M., & Dekker, J. H. (2018). Home-based continence care in the Netherlands: A mixed-methods study. BMC Health Services Research, 18(1), 413. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12913-018-3220-5

Zorginstituut Nederland. (2021). Zorgstandaard Incontinentie [Care standard for incontinence]. National Health Care Institute.

Social workers build trust first. They listen to personal stories without judgment. Take someone elderly in a nursing home; a worker might spot signs of isolation from embarrassment. They connect clients to doctors for underlying causes. Or, for a young parent post-childbirth, they link to support groups where people share tips on managing leaks.

Inclusion matters a lot. Social workers push for community events that welcome everyone. They advocate for accessible restrooms in public spots, like malls or offices. Imagine a job fair where changing stations are hidden away—workers can fight for open, private areas instead. This helps folks join in without fear.

Access to diapers is key too. Costs add up quick; a pack runs $20 to $50 monthly. Social workers guide clients to programs like Medicaid coverage or food banks that stock supplies. They might help apply for grants from groups like the National Association for Continence. Safe, clean change spots prevent infections. In schools or workplaces, workers team up with admins to install them. For me, as a student, knowing a counselor could push for dorm facilities eases my mind. Overall, these steps make life less lonely and more doable.

Oct. 28, 2025

“You’re going to molt like a baby snake,” one of the doctors said. He was right: I shed fragments of myself all over my studio apartment. Flakes of dead skin fell out of my laptop, my sheets, my couch. Scraps of singed flesh stuck to my rug. For that week when I could not fully walk, I inched from the bed to the couch, from the couch to the desk chair smothered in bandages and gauze and teeny packets of antibiotic ointment. My world narrowed to my apartment’s 500 square feet and the cheery purple packaging of the adult diapers that defined my recovery.

The simplest way to explain what happened is this: Last winter, my shower exploded. One minute, it was a normal shower; the next, scalding water sprayed from the shower head. I leaped out. For a few minutes, my brain stilled with shock’s synthetic calm. In the mirror, I saw that my left arm and thigh and chunks of my back and butt were scarlet. I started to scream. The pain was psychedelic. Walls bent; floors wobbled.

The carousel of doctors I saw over the next few days gave me detailed instructions on how to tend to my second-degree burns. This included wearing adult diapers, not to help me relieve myself but to hold my bandages in place and protect my wounds.

The diapers were, initially, a horrific indignity. They came with pink bows stamped on them. Some were dyed peach. Others had little lilac scallops that trailed along my waist, an attempt to preserve my femininity, I suppose, or to fool me into thinking that this was normal, even sexy, underwear. Even with no one around to witness me in my feeble state, I was embarrassed by how frail I was, humiliated by how little my body could do. I grumbled to my older sister that the diapers were practice for getting old.

“They’re practice for postpartum,” she shot back.

I had sworn, for most of my 20s, that I did not want children, but as I rounded my late 20s, any certainty about that crumbled. Sometimes, like when I saw a baby on the train, I felt flashes of physical, tangible yearning so strong that it scared me. But now I felt more like an infant than anyone capable of caring for one. The burns on my thigh forced me to relearn how to walk; I cried constantly. For a week, I only left my apartment to inch into cabs that shuttled me to doctors. I wore adult diapers all day and all night. Pain punctured my sleep, and I often bolted up to make sure my diaper was covering my torn-up skin.

I woke up each morning with swollen, pus-filled blisters dangling off my thigh, my arm, my back. I hauled myself back to the shower several times each day to wash off my wounds. Soap snagged in the tattered patches of my skin and felt like shattered glass being ground into my leg.

When I limped out, I smothered on antibacterial goop, clamped gauze over my stinging skin and dragged a fresh adult diaper up my leg. It was my padded support system, my safety net. I abandoned any pretense of ego, any claim I had to what I thought constituted adulthood. As my cells strained to stitch themselves together, there was so little I could control. The diapers should have been the most mortifying part. Instead, they held me together.

Any language I had for the burns seemed inadequate; I was scared and dazed and so focused on the physical. Gradually, though, I was able to leave my apartment. At January’s end, I slid off a diaper for the last time in a burn-center bathroom. Afterward, I went back to cotton underwear that felt newly flimsy. I don’t miss the diapers, but I miss what they offered: the constant reminder that I could tend to myself, my tiny shred of stability when my life and body were upended. I had seen the diapers as a sign of weakness at first, but day after day, they became a signal that I was capable. Here I was, so careful, so dutiful, taking this absurd extra step to keep myself safe. And they worked: I made it through the riskiest stage of wound care without an infection.

My late 20s had given me a sense of invulnerability. I could date someone for a few months or try out one thing or another — rock climbing, a soccer league, a month in Stockholm — and the contours of my life would reset to a base line. I told myself that this was proof of how capable I was, how competent — that I had designed a life that felt impenetrable.

The diapers, though, demanded surrender. We’re born into diapers, and we age back into them. I had thought I had several decades before my homecoming. I was 28 when I got burned, five days into a new year that I promised myself, as I did every year, would be different. I had lived in my studio apartment for four years, a college amount of time; I had worked the same job, kept the same friends, haunted the same cluster of bars and clubs. I kept waiting for someone to tell me what I should want: to have children, to move, to mark my adulthood in any other way than the years drifting by.

I felt so ill equipped and unprepared, and still, in my diaper days, I was getting a crash course in the beats of early parenting — the uncontrollable ache, the sleepless nights in my confined space, the incessant questions. The mound of diapers gave me the proof that I could take care of myself. They signaled that, at some point, I might be able to take care of someone else.

Dani Blum is a journalist and essayist who works as a health reporter for The New York Times. She lives in Brooklyn.

Dani Blum is a health reporter for The Times.

Article link: https://www.nytimes.com/2025/10/28/magazine/adult-diapers.html

The funny thing is my go-to diaper is Crinklz (with the babyfur prints). They had a recent shortage though, and LL Medical had only just got Betterdry (plain white) back in, so I was wearing one of them. It would have been interesting to say the least if I was wearing my usual though.

So does anyone else have any TSA or traveling-while-diapered stories?

Mostly I asked because all of her visual, physical, and other aids are of females. She isn't real happy about that either. 

https://nypost.com/2025/08/29/sports/colorado-puts-bathroom-on-sideline-for-deion-sanders/?utm_campaign=nypost&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Ye3dtN1NQ1k

I am wondering if Medline® Remedy Clinical Silicone Cream and Sudocreme are identical products as my ex continence nurse put both down in my continence report?

I am looking for peoples personal input and will ask my Urology nurse and Continence Nurse (when I find a new continence nurse)

Thank you

As this seems interesting as I am not sure when to change due to being new (Since November) 100% medical induced Urinary Incontinent

Thanks

So that got me wondering. With so many high capacity, and now super high capacity, diapers out there. Why don't any of them have a 6-tape design? One of their major flaws is they sag horribly when they get wet enough. And of course leak long before reaching even 1/3 of their rated capacity. So, wouldn't it just make sense their next improvement should be the addition of those tapes?

What are your observations and thoughts?

--John

Today I noticed how much I was aware of my bladder, and concerned about when to void to avoid accidents and leaks. Almost to a distracting level. It's enough to make part of me want to give in and just wear diapers all the time, though I still avoid that due to the cost and the principal of not giving up on my continence before I have to.

Do you need to retape your diaper several times to get it on right?  This probably is something that applies more to diaper newbies.

Do you untape your diaper to pee and then tape it back up?

Personally, I hate them.  I don’t really need plastic panel as I don’t remove my diaper to pee and I never get the tapes wrong when I put the diaper on.

Diapers with landing zones do not have lower tapes that are low enough to permit a snug fit around the legs.😕

However, my biggest reason is that once I fold the extra diaper plastic inside the waistband, the folded front plastic panel causes irritation at my waistline, sometimes leading to a rash.😱

—John