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Thursday, January 12, 2012

The Great Poop Race

It's Day #5 of "The Real Underwear Experiment" and Bob and I are sitting on the front porch. This is our usual morning routine, after bedbath, I take him out to the front porch for some fresh air and also so that I can change the sheets on his bed.

So we're sitting there and Bob says, "I don't know."

And I say, "What don't you know?"

"I don't know."

"Well, if you don't know, I certainly don't know."

Then he's quiet for a minute but he has a funny look on his face. So I say, "Are you OK?"

"I don't know." But he's fidgeting in his chair and sort of pulling at his shorts.

"Is something wrong with your pants?"

"I don't know."

"Are they twisted? Are they uncomfortable?"

"No." But he's still fidgeting.

"Is it your chair? Are you sitting wrong?" Then, I have a flash of horror and I freeze. "Please don't tell me, do you have to poop?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" I ask. Because this is a bit unlikely, I mean, Bob's pretty regular in that respect and he's not due for another day or so.

"Yes."

So oh shit! I mean this quite literally. I leap out of my chair and make a mad dash into the house, where I quickly make up his bed. Then, rush back onto the porch and unlock the wheelchair brakes and grab the handles, whirl him around and back him up, wrench him through the screen door and over the threshold, through the front door.  At record speed, we screech up to the bed and I yank the wheelchair arm off and flip the foot rest in and grab the slide board and pretty much launch him onto the bed, then run around to the head of the bed where I yank him up to the top with the drawsheet, then run to the foot of the bed and rip off his shorts and real underwear and zoom through the house into the breakfast nook which has become a medical supply room where I grab a pair of Depends then fly back to the Bob and pull those Depends up so fast they nearly reach his ears.

All this while Bob is looking at me with a rather strange expression, as if to say he thinks I've gone completely mad.

And I say, "OK, we did it! You can go now."

And Bob calmly reaches for the urinal.

GAAAA!!!

So, it was just another one of those aphasia miscommunication moments.

And I wonder why I am always exhausted.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Isn't it amazing how fast we caregivers can respond to an "oh shit" situation??? Hugs, (DS) Dan

Jenn said...

Hilarious! (but not)
You move with lightening speed! Lololol :-)
Oy!!!

Rebecca said...

I was gasping for breath after reading about this heroic feat. My mantra since my stroke is "cheat safely." A ST would probably smack me, but I would put a few words that are needed urgently (e.g. urinal) on an index card and keep it handy. Why can't you can benefit from Bob's new reading skills?

Anonymous said...

D. Well this time everything worked out. You never know, better keep your running shoes handy. Seriously your doing an awesome job !! I wish I was as good. Love, Patricia