Nesting

As I mentioned in a previous post I have been going through old stuff in the house and either taking it to Goodwill or straight to the trash. It took me a while to become ambitious about this project but once I got started I found it very therapeutic. The house is still in disarray but I see the light at the end of the tunnel. This "forced nesting" as I like to call it (because I really had to force myself to get started) has spread to other parts of my life. Recently I was going through old computer files and e-mails and found this gem of an e-mail from my sister:



From: Heather Smith

Sent: Tuesday, February 15, 2005 11:45 AM

To: Jennifer Smith

Subject: Happy Valentine's Day


Juni,



Up until this point I have conceded the worst Valentine's ever to you. Simply because of one word...Fun Inc., I guess that's two words but as you will soon find out I am a bit flustered this morning.



Yesterday began as any other day, I had no reason to anticipate the drastic turn of events that will forever haunt me. As I arrived at work I learned that today was "shower day". We each got a resident and had to give them a shower - you can imagine my excitement. My resident was Eva, I'm not sure what is wrong with her...maybe MS or a stroke. Anyway, she is entirely dead weight and honestly I'm not such a big fan of her. She always smells horrible (I suppose that's why she needed the shower) and I look at her and think that her brain is perfectly fine and she's trapped in a body that doesn't work, which really just freaks me out. So I decide to just go for it, how bad can giving a shower really be??? (Oh, the innocence I possessed in that moment!)



The shower itself wasn't that bad, but if I thought she stunk with her clothes on, it was a real treat when she was naked! She is wheelchair/bed bound, but while in the shower she was sitting in a special shower chair. I needed to transfer her back to her wheelchair. (A quick side note: Explosive Diarrhea...Is it really possible for a bowel movement to be "explosive", or is it just a figure of speech. I'll let you ponder that for a bit.)



So as I am transferring Eva back to her chair she has was can only be referred to as "explosive diarrhea". So explosive in fact that this milk shake textured liquid squirted everywhere, including under my foot (I know, what are the odds). I took one small step back and slipped. In order to keep Eva from falling I had to take a knee. I took a knee right into a pile of her, her, I can't even say it, her excrement! I thought to myself, "Go to your happy place, a place where there are flowers, birds singing, children playing." But it's just too hard to visit a place of wonder when the pungent odor of diarrhea is filling the air. Somehow I got her to her chair and then began to evaluate MY situation.



My left leg, from the knee down was covered in diarrhea. Now I know what you are thinking, "That's horrible, how can her day get any worse?" I changed my clothes, but still felt incredibly dirty. As I walked back onto my floor, still a bit flustered by the days events, a room's call light went off. Since no one else was around I had to take it. Again, I marvel at my innocence.



THIS woman, Leah, is also bed-ridden. She told me that she had had a bowel movement and needed to be changed. Simple request, I'd done it before, nothing to be afraid of. As it turned out she wasn't quite finished having a bowel movement just yet, so I told her I would give her some privacy and be back in 5 minutes. In the hall I saw a co-worker and told her of Leah's situation. She informed me that there was only one way to handle this. Go back in the room, glove up, roll Leah on her side and have her push. (Apparently that's not a task she will do on her own.) I walk back into Leah's room, all the while cursing this day, and well, poop in general. So I have Leah roll on her side and for the next 5 minutes feel like her birthing coach. "Push, Leah, Push. You're almost there, you can do it!! PUSH, PUSH. Ok, take a breath. Let's try one more time, PUUUUUUUSSSSHHHHH, good, good, PUSH. YOU DID IT, YOU DID IT!!!"



As you can imagine, because Leah was on her side I was "able" to watch this monstrosity of a bowel movement come out of her. The image is now burned into my brain, and I fear I will never be rid of it. So, that was my Valentine's Day. Not so much a day of love, more a day of poop, poop, and more poop.



Heather