I woke up like this

I distinctly remember shitting myself. That’s the first solid memory I have. I remember waking up and
thinking “I need to shit” and that’s what I did. No heartfelt “hello, glad you’re back, sweetie!” and “you

scared  the hell out of me” as tearful relatives gather ‘round the bedside, which I have seen on every
TV show, movie, and documentary, except Rick Grimes, who wakes up in the middle of a zombie
apocalypse, and that seems about right. No, I remember glimpses of my fiance and son and wonder
what made them so sad, and having an MRI and the nurse saying “I GAVE her a sedative” and boom,
right to shitting myself. Why did I wait until I woke up? No idea.

I tried to get out of bed and ask the nurse why I had shit the bed, and holy hell, a bunch of nurses just
swarmed the room like killer bees in scrubs and cleaned all that shit up. I remember feeling totally
humiliated, but I don’t know why--they were the ones who decided a stroke patient who they just gave
a laxative to should be in bed without a diaper.  But I’m not in nursing school, so. I feel like there should
have been a note in my hand or by the bed or something saying “Don’t freak out--you’ve had a stroke”
but there was no note, so no one can blame me for not knowing what was going on.

The killer-bees-in-scrubs got me dressed and changed and hooked back up to the machines, and I felt them looking around for the joker who decided I didn’t need to be in a diaper and the silent consensus was that it was James, whose last day was today and wasn’t it just like James to pull a prank on his way out the door.

I decided to ask what the fuck was going on, but my mouth would not say the words, and I kind of gave

a “What the fuck is going on?” glance at the nurse, who apparently was last in his class at interpreting
patients’ thoughts. He told me to stay in bed and not to mess with the tubes that kept me hooked up to
the machines, and I gave him the “Whatever” stare, but it was lost on him.

It turns out that I was grateful he didn’t understand what I was saying with my thoughts, because once the KBIS went back to their hive, I realized I needed to crap again. I made a noise like “oh no” and to his credit, he heard me and grabbed a couple of nurses and went back in for round two.

An hour later, I dropped another deuce, and I was caught between “oh no” and “Where is this shit coming from?" I probably don’t need to tell you this, but when the guy changing you has to talk the way you do when you’re chopping onions--that whole “try not to inhale” thing--that’s worthy of my “Top Moments I Wish I Were Dead” list. I made a note to apologize to my son about whatever faces I made when I changed his diaper.

The FOURTH time I shit, I think the nurse went to the nurse manager, and was like “if i take you in

there she’ll KNOW I’m serious” and pretty soon my most recent Top Moments I Wish I Were Dead

included the nurse manager saying things like “I’m sorry you’re in here; I’ll do my best to help you

out.” It wasn’t even what he said, it’s the way he said it-- like I was runner-up in a shit-taking contest,

and he was trying to break the news to me gently. Though I’d like to know who won, because four

times in one night is impressive.

I spent the rest of my night looking out the window--it was blurry, because I didn’t have my glasses on--
and hope that whatever this mess was, someone who knew more than me had a plan for what
was going on, because I had not a sliver of a clue.