A bedpan situation…

Last week I travelled to Argentina because my grand-father was hospitalized… I guess that heart problems and old age don’t get along really well in an 88th year old person.

 Don’t let my gracious comments misguide you; we were all worried by the situation, but with a family member in the ICU, you have to lead your emotions to other less important matters and stop fretting every time a nurse enters the room.

As you learned before, we’re a numerous family with members ranking in all ages… during visiting hours, the waiting room was crowded by us, chatting along, trying to send good vibes to our bed resting grand-father, even though we couldn’t enter his room all at the same time.

 We took turns to accompany him during his stay, so I got to experience the uncanny feeling of being left in the ICU alone, with an 88th year old person who was as demanding and difficult as a child. Whoever thought that high doses of medicine and being in a hospital bed was a synonym for recovery and tranquility, didn’t spent 5 hours with their ex-military grand-father into a four-walled room, stranded on a bed.

Everything bothered him, the light… the dark, the noise… the quietness, the cables, the pinching needles, the tasteless food (he was always demanding for a steak with fries)… just like a bored child who wants to push your buttons until you crack.

But I managed to stay strong and attend all his requests without uttering a single word.

My problem arrived when he requested the bedpan (you know, to do his number 2) and I entered the bathroom to get it and without even thinking about it I put it on the floor, at the bottom of the bed, below him… and he stared at me, while thinking (I’m assuming): What’s her problem? Does she think that my poop is going to teleport there?

At that particular moment, my twin sister, future doctor of the family, entered the room and asked me:

-          Why’s the bedpan on the floor?

-          He asked to do number two… duh!

-          I’ll rephrase then: why’s the bedpan below the bed, on the floor, instead of being below his butt?

-          Huh? (dumb face stamped all over)

-          What is he suppose to do? Concentrate hard enough so the poop can travel through the mattress and get to the bedpan?

-          Isn’t there a hole in the mattress?

Her face told me everything I needed to know… I’m definitely not cut out for nursing.

True story!