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Thursday, April 17, 2014

The Enema

Bless her heart.  Grandma is more than 90 years old.  She lived alone until just the last year or two.  By herself in a home where she'd lived for many years.  She drove an old car.....for years, the same old car.  And she'd come to the Oakland Hilton Airport hotel to pick up her granddaughter Nicole and whichever crew members wanted to go to grandma's house for the day.  Nicole is a crewmember with me.  And we've both been around for nearly 20 years.  Nicole is a conservative Christian woman.  And so is her grandmother.  Church-going, no drinking, no swearing.  And whoever wanted to go to grandma's house was welcome to on Oakland layovers.  Until she ended up in a retirement home recently.   Nicole visits her as often as she can.  She is a very good granddaughter. 

Nicole was visiting just two weeks ago when grandma broke the news.  The pipes were clogged up and she needed an enema.  Things weren't quite right.  "Oh wow, okay," Nicole said as she stood in the drug store in front of what seemed like 100 or more choices for enemas.  She had no idea......this was all new territory for her.  A first.  She selected what seemed like the appropriate bottle to plunge into grandma's bum.  She returned to grandma, rolled up her sleeves, donned her gloves, and prepared the enema for insertion into grandma's you-know-what.  "Okay grandma, time to drop your drawers."  Grandma obliged.  

Now grandma has one of those walkers that seem to be all the rage nowadays.  All of the cool kids have one.   The kind with the comfortable sitting bench built into it.  So you can sit down if necessary.  Grandma bent over the walker and held on with her hands to the top handrails.   "Bend over as far as you can, grandma," Nicole instructed.  And grandma did.  Trousers dropped, bum bared, gloved hands ushering the enema bottle into grandma's, ummmm, rectum.  And no sooner had things begun, grandma uttered the words that began a rapidly disintegrating situation.  "Nicole!  I'm not so sure how long my hands can hold on....I feel like they're going to give way!"   And they did. 

Grandma's old hands could not hold on any longer and let go of the top handrails which dropped her bent-over head to the sitting bench on the walker.  Bang!  Her head hit the bench seat and slipped backwards in the walker wedging her head in between the seat and the metal rails on the walker.  She was stuck.  Ass up.  Nicole administering the goods.  And grandma, for the very first time in her life, uttered the words that no one was even aware that grandma knew:  "Oh shit."  Nicole dropped the enema bottle and helped grandma dislodge her head from the walker.  Grandma stood up semi-straight as the enema apparently began to do some sort of good.   And grandma repeated her earlier swear words -- only this time with further embellishment:  "Oh shit, I'm standing in my shit!"  And she was.

I don't think I've laughed as hard as I did when Nicole shared grandma's story with me.  Tears were running down my face.  I think the funniest part is that it happened to Nicole and her grandmother -- the conservative, Bible-toting, straight-laced women that they are.

Apparently grandma has learned a few new words in the retirement home.  Oh and for the record, grandma is back to normal.  Things are functioning properly now.