Notes From Gordon 250116: Pee And Me, a Tale of Urgency & Disaster!

ATTENTION SPAN NOTICE
Reading time: 801 words @ 238 wpm = 3 minutes, 22 seconds

TONE: amusing yet sadly true

NEW READER?
Subscribe here… forward to a friend!

Pee And Me, a Tale of Urgency & Disaster!

Am I sharing too much here? … lol

Hey, we're all human. This could have happened to you. Thank God it didn't.

November 18, 2016: A date that shall live in infamy.

I managed to do something that ranks up there with the very best of stupid.

I totally lost track of what I was eating and drinking.

Over a period of five days while working feverishly on my next book, I drank far too little water, drank far too much coffee (a diuretic), and ate far too much cheese (uh, oh).

You got it. I became constipated. And not just your garden variety constipated.

I’m talkin’ like a Greyhound bus stuck in a tunnel.

Realizing my peril, I hastened to consume a tablespoon of castor oil along with a couple of drug store "overnight relief" pills.

The next morning arrived, and no overnight relief. So much for truth in advertising.

It appears that my ureter (can you believe this?) had became pinched off as a result of an excess of, er, intestinal contents.

I could not urinate at all, not a drop. Like I said, not too smart.

I hastened to the local emergency room with my back teeth floating and quickly explained my situation.

The nice receptionist observed me dancing from one foot to the other and rushed me right in, saying we’d do the paperwork later.

A serious, efficient looking female nurse entered the room.

Her name tag said "Grimley" and I knew I was in for something grim.

Nurse Grimley instructed me to lay flat on my back and lower my Jockey shorts to half-mast.

The thought flashed through my mind that maybe she wasn't getting enough at home?

What concerned me most was the long plastic needle that I spotted in my peripheral vision.

I recognized this instrument of torture immediately. It was a catheter.

Surely they wouldn't... oh, yes… they would!

I quickly learned that it takes not one, but two to execute the procedure.

One to hold you down, the other to stick it in.

The “stick it in” assistant was a male orderly with a purple T-shirt, black eye liner and a nose stud.

His name tag said "Steve" which he pronounced “Thteve” with a distinct lisp.

Thteve was smiling oddly and licking his lips.

Not good. Not good at all.

Thteve held Willie straight up in the air and told me to take a deep breath and count to three.

I got to "two" when he performed the insertion in a sudden, stabbing motion.

Actually, it wasn’t as bad as I had imagined. It was worse!

To add insult to injury (or was that enjoyment?), Thteve now inflated a miniature rubber ball so the catheter wouldn’t slip back out.

These people think of everything.

What happened next can only be described as a religious experience.

Nurse Grimley reported that I generated 787 milliliters of urine.

Apparently this was a significant performance.

Thteve now rolled me onto my side, pumped in a few gallons of water where the sun don’t shine, and told me to hold it.

He said at least ten minutes of retention was necessary.

I asked how long people usually last. "Ten minutes, but thirty would be better."

I told him I would go the distance. I would go thirty.

Thteve came in at the end of thirty minutes and said I had broken the record.

I asked, "Really? What was the longest anyone has held it before?"

He said, "About ten," and laughed.

So cruel!

A doctor entered to insert some extra strength glycerin suppositories after which Thteve set a portable commode next to the gurney and covered everything with absorbable pads.

I remember that they both left the room rather quickly.

A few minutes later and... what was this?… a great rumbling... tremendous rolling gurgles… the sound of distant drums… maybe bagpipes too?

I wondered if Braveheart ever got constipated.

Just in time, I managed to center myself directly over the commode as all sphincter control was abandoned and a thundering barrage of liquefied waste erupted.

Uh, oh…. the commode was overflowing onto the floor!

As I shakily attempted to escape this fountain of effluvium while half-crouching and half-standing, one bare leg outside of the disaster zone and my smock gathered up under my armpits, it was at this very moment that a new nurse walked in.

And stopped, dead in her tracks.

The look on her face shall remain frozen in my memory for the rest of my days.

The moral of the story.

Eat your fiber, drink plenty of water and always listen to your body.

The dignity you save may be your own.

GP