My sister’s inability to have a bowel movement for four days had us all in agony, her from the pain and us from hearing her torture-level moans. The nurse suggested a suppository, and after a lot of probing (literally) she finally caved. Dad and I left the room for about fifteen minutes so that the head nurse and her night nurse could administer the waxy poop maker. Jennifer, her nurse, came out into the family area and assured us we could go back into the room. She continued to inform us that the quicker-shitter-upper could take up to an hour to produce results, except that by the time that we had returned to the room, my sister was curled up in a ball squeezing her butt checks and clinging to the red emergency call rope.
We walked in and she said, “I got to go! NOW!” I ran out laughing, and nearly shit my pants––it was a hilarious scene. I ran to get the nurse, and in the meantime my dad asked, “Wasn’t that a pleasant experience?” To which my sister responded, “The going in part wasn’t, but this next part might be!” We burst into laughter and the nurses ran by with gloves and a bucket. When you’re sick, there’s no difference between us and animals, shit is shit––and you don’t horse around with that.
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