Even today, among the best charities for highly effective giving (highly effective charities that get way more value for your money than others), is considered to be the Fistula Foundation.

Fistula is largely eradicated in developed countries, but continues to ruin lives in the poorest parts of the world where access to maternal care is limited. Women often lose their babies in labor, and without proper treatment, they are stigmatized for their smell and isolated from their communities.

Obstetric fistula do not heal on their own. Fortunately though, reconstructive surgery can reverse the damage and repair the birth canal. However, the limited number of trained fistula surgeons in the world means that fewer than 20,000 procedures take place annually. Even where the procedure is available, combined surgery and rehabilitation costs total an average of $586 per woman--far beyond the financial means of most women who suffer from fistula in developing countries.

So even today we're having a tough time getting everyone this relatively cheap surgery that otherwise excludes people from their communities.

So I checked in a gynecology textbook--Mark D. Walters and Mickey M. Karram's Urogynecology and Reconstructive Pelvic Surgery--and came up with a chapter on vesicovaginal fistulas (or, more generally, lower urinary tract fistulas). It's not a conventionally "historical" source, but it provides a pretty well-sourced, chronological overview of the medical literature. According to Chi Chung Grace Chen and Karram, "the earliest evidence of a vesicovaginal distula was reported by Derry (1953) in the mummified remains of Queen Henhenit, one of the wives of King Mentuhotep II of Egypt. It tells a pretty coherent narrative of early medical attempts to characterize the problem: Avicenna, an eleventh century physician, noted that "urinary incontinence after difficult labor was caused by communication between the bladder and vagina"--but it isn't until the mid-eighteenth century that physicians begin to record successful surgical repairs of fistulas, and it's not until the nineteenth century that gynecologists became particularly adept at the procedure. (602)

What this kind of source doesn't give is an answer to what I take to be the social implications of the question, e.g. how did the absence of a viable solution to this problem affect the lives of individual women? So I consulted Robert Zacharin's "A History of Obstetric Vesicovaginal Fistula," published in the ANZ Journal of Surgery, which fleshes out some of the details but leaves questions of the lived experience and social response to the problem generally unanswered. One point of interest is that James Marion Sims, a white doctor from Alabama, refined the surgical procedure by operating, without anesthesia, on three enslaved women--Betsy, Lucy, and Anarcha, the latter of whom was "cured" after twenty-nine attempts (851-852). This is the guy who Zacharin credits with the "[enunciation of] the important principles involved," which "to this day [...] remain the standard with very few additions or modiciations." (852) We also learn that the "world's first fistula hospital" opened in New York City in 1855, a couple of decades after Sims's experiments and relatively close to the spot in Central Park where a statue to Sims still stands (though the city plans to move it to Brooklyn). But there's still scant evidence of how this medical issue manifested itself socially.

Sims does offer the following reaction:

The accident, per se, is never fatal, but it may well be imagined that a lady of keen sensibilities so afflicted, and excluded from all social enjoyment would prefer death. A case of this kind came under my obsercation a few years since, where the lady absolutely pined away and died, in consequence of her extreme mortification on ascertaining that she was hoplessly incurable.

(This quotation is from Sims's "On the treatment of vesico-vaginal fistula,' American Journal of the Medical Sciences (1852), 59-87, quoted in Durrenda Ojanuga, "The medical ethics of the 'Father of Gynecology', Dr. J. Marion Sims, Journal of Medical Ethics 19 (1993), 28.)

Ojanuga, who ultimately describes Sims's actions as "a classic example of the evils of slavery and the misuse of human subjects for medical research" (30), gives us more substantial information about the social effects of vesicovaginal fistulas, though it is difficult to discern how much of his characterization is speculative and how much is supported with something stronger than intuition. That said, Ojanuga states that "before the 19th century, European and American women suffered from [vesicovaginal fistulas] and often became social outcasts rejected from society. Suicides among them were common." While he concedes that "statistics are scarce" in the nineteenth century and earlier, vesicovaginal fistulas were "a serious problem. The records of the Women's Hospital in New York revealed significant numbers of poor immigrant women suffering from this condition." Nonetheless, he maintains that up until the mid-eighteenth century, "vaginal fistulas were generally unknown to the public at large." (28)

Nancy Theriot, in Mothers and Daughters in Nineteenth-Century America, concurs with Ojanuga's description of the social ramifications of untreated vesicovaginal fistula, describing vesicovaginal fistula as "a debilitating birth-trauma injury" and noting that, prior to the advent of nineteenth-century gynecology, "women who suffered from this condition were permanent invalids." (99) However, I suspect that Theriot might question Ojanuga's claim that the existence of vaginal fistulas was not common knowledge: she makes the argument that the physical agony of childbirth, along with its attendant complications, was be a necessary component of feminine identity--at least prior to the advent of anesthesia. It seems more likely that knowledge of the effects of untreated vesicovaginal fistula was often familiar to women who had experienced childbirth, either personally or indirectly. Certainly, much of the medical profession of the eighteenth century (and earlier) was largely incompetent at treating women--Theriot mentions that many instances of vesicovaginal fistula likely came from doctors misusing forceps during other operations (53)--but the refinement of the procedure was clearly met with a substantial demand from theretofore-untreated women. Historian Deborah Kuhn McGregor agrees, suggesting in From Midwives to Medicine that "when medicine becmae clinical and began to concentrate on female diseases vesico-vaginal fistulas became a focus," a concern which "indicated that there was a higher incidence of the condition than occurs today, at least in many parts of the world." (33-34).

Anyway, to your questions:

Did women have specialized products to deal with this?

Ojanuga says that, prior to a viable surgical solution, "Women with [vesicovaginal fistulas] were left to rely on the use of palliative or other minimal treatment which lessened the dribbling of urine, but did not allow the women to participate fully in everyday life." (28). It's not entirely clear what those "treatments" would be, though McGregor notes that "physicians often resorted to using pessaries and sponges for various female complaints" (34), so those are some clear options. I can't find any evidence of improvised/"folk" treatments, though I would strongly suspect they existed.

Did women die from this in the past if it was untreatable/unmanageable?

None of the authors I have mentioned above regard the condition as fatal--McGregor is insistent on this point, in fact)--though attempts at treating the issue often carried substantial medical risk (One of Sims's experimental subjects nearly died from blood loss during a botched suturing attempt). The aforementioned quotation from Sims likewise indicates that the condition was generally not going to kill you, though its effects brought so much embarrassment and anguish that the afflicted might wish to be dead regardless. Likewise, Ojanuga indicates that suicide was "common" among women with untreated vesicovaginal fistulas.

There's a lot I haven't mentioned here, but hopefully this works as kind of a primer. I think all of my sources are mentioned in the text.

I'm curious, have you found evidence that they did survive?