Forgive Me Father...It Just Slipped Out

I’ve been spending a lot of the time at the hospital lately visiting with a sick relative. It sure does wear you out; not only is the patient irritable most days but the family gets that way too. Just when you think the doctors, nurses, housekeepers, and business office people have decided to stop coming into the room for a few moments someone else will drop in to ask a question or take your temperature. It wears me out so I know it wears out my family member. My relative looked at me the other day and said he had just about had it with everybody bothering him all the time. He wanted to know how he was supposed to get any better when he couldn’t get any rest. I really didn’t know what to say because his condition has warranted very close observation. I went back to the hospital a few days later and was met with a happy and somewhat well rested looking fellow motioning excitedly to me when I walked in the door. “Come in and close the door, I’ve got something to show you,” he said. “Well, what is it?” I asked. “Just wait and watch,” he said again. We were engrossed in a very exciting program on Animal Planet when I heard the door open. My relative reached under the side of the bed and pulled out a nearly inflated whoopee cushion. He held it between his big meaty hands and gave it a nice long squeeze. Out came the most horrendous sounding noise that I have ever heard. From the door I heard someone say, “Whoops, I’ll come back later.” We looked at each other and giggled like school kids. Before I could ask where he got it, he said one of his buddies had dropped by with one of his kids and the child had left it behind. For the next three hours every time the door would open the whoopee cushion would come out and the visitor would turn on a dime and walk back out. We were having fun and we both managed to take a short nap. Of course, the door opened once again and out came the noisemaker but before he could squeeze it a head peeked around the corner. “Aha, I know that you have been flatulent all day but I had hoped the staff would have cleared that up by now,” said the visitor. “I see it wasn’t gas after all.” I was mortified and my relative just shrugged it off. “It keeps people away,” he said. “I can understand that, my son. But, the Lord is with you all the time. No flatulence, real or not was going to keep me from stopping to see how you were,” said the Chaplain. With that my relative rolled slightly to the left and let the biggest fart imaginable. No whoopee cushion here, it was the real thing. The three of us looked at each other and started laughing until we were blue in the face. I was laughing so hard I had tears running down my face. We had just started to calm down when the door opened again and my relative tooted once more. That person said I’ll be back later turned around and went back out. The patient looked up at the Chaplain and said this, “Forgive me Father, that one just slipped out.”

Sleeping In The Car

I mentioned awhile back about my late night trip to an Atlanta hospital to be with a sick family member. It took several hours of being transferred from one department to another department and filling out a lot of paperwork before things began to calm down a bit. It was 2:45 in the morning and we were very tired. You really don’t have a lot of options at that time in the morning. We were in the party section of Atlanta and most of the hotels were probably already filled up with drunks, one-night stands or Georgia Tech fans. Even if we would’ve found a hotel we would have had to check out by 11:00 AM. This in itself isn’t a bad thing but when you check in at 4:00 AM, it seems like a waste of money. Unfortunately, my family knows its way around hospitals. There are certain waiting rooms that have reclining chairs and somewhat comfortable couches. You can also get blankets and pillows which can make your visit a little more comfortable. But, there’s a catch. These prime positions in the waiting rooms fill up very fast. You need to have claimed your spot by 6:00 PM at the latest or you can expect to spend the night in a chair with hard wooden sides or a loveseat that has one too many soft drink stains. This was the predicament that my mom and I found ourselves in; try and find a hotel for six hours or sleep in the waiting room on the leftover torture chairs. We didn’t like either option so we decided to sleep in the car. It wasn’t very comfortable; in fact, it was terrible. I have a Mustang and the seats don’t recline very far back. I sat in the driver’s seat and I don’t have a removable steering wheel. I couldn’t cross my legs or even stretch them out. I couldn’t turn to one side because the steering wheel was always in the way. I don’t know how mom did it but the next thing I knew she was snoring over there in the passenger seat. She slept for about three hours. I dozed from 2:47 until 3:18. The parking area was a very noisy place and was very well lit. I had my sunglasses on trying to keep out the lights. I had cracked the windows to let the air flow through but it eventually got hot. I had drunk to many soft drinks, and, of course, I need to use the facilities. I held it as long as I could I didn’t want to wake up mom by getting out of the car. I think it was about 6:00 o’clock when mom opened her eyes and saw me grimacing. I had to go I told her and I hadn’t wanted to wake her up. Wake her up she said, she hadn’t been asleep at all; she was just resting her eyes.

Friday Night In Atlanta

It seems that my mother and me have been spending an awful lot of time together lately which is a good thing I guess. After our two consecutive weekend attempts of yard selling together we thought we would each do our own thing this weekend. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I haven't been around much lately because I've been tending to a sick family member. Things were going as smoothly as could be expected when hospital staff decided that a transfer to a bigger hospital was needed, in Atlanta, which is 75 miles away, on a Friday night. I used to go out in Atlanta years ago before I became the MA Fat Woman. I used to be known as the twenty-something chunky gal heretofore known as Thunder Thighs. I used to love going to night clubs and all of that jazz then I realized it was a waste of money. I could buy a six pack, turn up my radio real loud, smoke a pack of cigarettes in 3 hours and get the same effect at home without worrying how I was going to get home from the club. That being said, I don't come to Atlanta very often. It's usually just passing through on my way to Florida. It's not a bad place, the traffic is horrendous and there is always a traffic jam somewhere, day or night. I usually get in the far left lane and go as fast as possible to get the hell out of there. Anyhow, after several hours of negotiating construction sites, Friday night party goers and reversible traffic lanes, we finally made it to the hospital at 1:00 AM. My mom was riding in the ambulance and I was following in the little red Mustang. You know, I almost outran that ambulance. I kept having to put on my brakes, and waiting on them to catch up. I think they saw me pass them one time because all of a sudden, they took off like a shot and I had to floor it to keep up. I was following the ambulance with my hazard lights flashing, we passed 3 cops and not one of them looked our way and we were going 85 in a 55. I guess I have found another way to get through Atlanta traffic--find an ambulance and follow it.