Missile Launching

men are stupid

Jan 27, 2012

I made it to the window of my private room.  I must say, I had a really excellent view of……. A Funeral Home.

The nurse told me that today, I had to have a poo.

“Well, I don’t feel like having a poo”, I told her.

“Too bad”, she answered.  Have you ever had a suppository before?

No.

Well, that will make you go.

This was the first time that I was told I was going to get a missile shoved up my rear.  I wasn’t happy about it, but my stomach was beginning to hurt more than my back. “ Fine”, I said.  “Fire away.”

Well, you know that this is a teaching hospital, don’t you.

“Great”, I thought, “I am going to have a missile shoved up my butt by someone who doesn’t know what they are doing.  Nice.  Needless to say, the blonde failed to launch the missile and the pro had to come and do it.

Then it was time for my sister to leave, as my husband had just arrived.  That was bad, very bad.  She tried to leave instructions on how to get me to the toilet, but Bobo, who knows everything, just said, “Yeah, yeah.  Don’t worry about it.”

The nurse returned and helped me to the toilet.  I had a mild explosion.  It really stunk.  Thinking that was it, I went back to bed.  Unbeknownst to me, that was just the beginning.  The nurse left.

Hurry.  Hurry!  I screamed at Bobo a few minutes later.

I HAVE TO GO NOW!!!!  Right NOW!!!

Pain or no pain, I knew I was about to blow.  I quickly rolled to the side and jumped on the commode (a silly little seat/wheelchair with a hole in it so you can roll the patient to a toilet to do their business there).  Anyhow, I’m in the seat and ready to go.  I think we are going to make it.  Bobo turns the wheelchair, but we are not moving.

Bobo!  I NEED TO GO NOW!  NOW!

“I can’t”, he says calmly, “the catheter bag is stuck in the bed”.  WHAT!!!!   NOW!!  I gotta go now.

“So what would you like me to do about it?” he answers matter-of-factly.

I tried.  I really tried to hold it, but the missile was too much.

I exploded, right there on the floor.  And then there was another explosion and another and another.  And the smell.  It was heavenly, let me tell you.  There Bobo.  I made a present just for you.  That’s for not getting me to the bathroom on time.

At this point, I called him everything under the sun and more.

“Useless twit,  why didn’t you stay at work today?”,  I yelled at him.  “And what do you want me to do about it, it’s stuck?”, he responds.  “All I wanted was to get to the toilet!” I yelled.  Now I have to smell my own crap!  And who knows how long it will be before one of the stupid nurses get here.  And you would think that nothing else could possible make the situation any worse.  But you would be wrong because my brilliant husband then grabs the handles of the commode and DESPITE the fact that the catheter is still stuck between the bed rails,  he forcefully pushes the commode to the bathroom.  “What the h**?”,  I’m thinking.  My business is done.  There is a big shit on the floor.  Why move me now?  BING!  The catheter drain/bag detaches itself and there is now pee all over the floor too.

“Great”,  I said.  Bobo moved me to the toilet.

But by then I was really pissed off.  So I’m screaming from the toilet,  “Just somebody get me a freaking gun so I can shoot myself”.

I then see the nurse outside the door.  I think the F word came out of  my mouth a couple of times too.

“Oh”, she said.

“You’re a little late,” I yelled.

“I’ll get someone from house-keeping to take care of this”, she answered.

Bloody hell!

Bobo came back into the bathroom.  “I’m bleeding”,  I told him.  “Where?” he asks.  My leg is warm.  He moves the gown.  Oh Great!

A part of the catheter is still in me and now it was leaking pee all over me.  Now I’m really going to smell.  The nurse came in and said that the catheter was not removed properly.  Really?  REALLY?  NO way.  Patients don’t regularly have catheters ripped from them.

My husband is trying to kill me.

—————————————————————————————

I was very upset about the whole missile thing for many hours after that.  It was embarrassing.  I wondered about all the old people on this floor who call the nurses to go to the washroom and end up getting it all over themselves.  It’s inhumane!

My surgery team came to visit me while I was very looped.

They asked me how my back was.  I was not in the mood to talk to them about my back, but I did tell them I shit all over the place and that the nurses don’t come when you buzz them, and that the food was horrible.  They didn’t stay too long.

I don’t really remember too much after that, but I think I even called my boss and told her just as much.  “Hi, I’m not going to come back to work any time soon, I just shit on the floor”.

Those drugs really did a number on me.  I even phoned Michelle twice.

“Wait, a minute.  I remember saying to her.  I already talked to you today, didn’t I?”

“Yes…. yes you did,” Michelle laughed.

Freaking drugs.

————————————————————————————–

P.S.  On Monday, Gilligan came to visit me to see how I was doing.  He looked a bit different.  Why?   He shaved off his mustache!  I know that this might sound weird,  but I am now quite fond of Gilligan.  He is actually a really nice guy.

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