Bubba and The Hospital Rules??
A couple of years ago I had to spend a week in the local hospital getting my innards sewed back together from a prison injury.
It was one long difficult trip. I almost starved to death, and the infection almost killed me.
The first day I was presented with a big bowl on my tray which looked like it could contain food. It was covered with a lid to hide the contents. My high hopes were soon deflated by a bowl of brown colored juice of some sort. I think they called it "broth".
Day number two was no better as was days three and four.
The "Dungeon Master,"( nurse), came in and asked me if there was any gas yet. I sheepishly said, " No, so far I'm vapor-locked".She proceeded to tell me that I wasn't going home until I had a BM.
I told her that there was no way that could happen by only eating that dad-blasted "broth". I asked her how much of that stuff would it take to produce anything.
I was instructed to get up and walk as much as I could to help the process along. I must have dragged that IV stand a hundred miles up and down that hall. I even challenged another old codger to a IV stand race. He looked at me with a frown and hobbled off down the hall.
During one trip I passed the door of an old lady that was operated on the same day that I was, and she let out a rap so loud that I almost stumbled over my IV stand.
The nurse at the end of the hall yelled down and said, "Bubba, was that you?" I told her that I only wished that I could rip one that loud. I told her that I couldn't do that good in good health, let alone with a belly full of stitches.
Finally on day six they brought me some real food. By then I told them that I was so weak from starvation that I doubted if I would ever be able to pass gas. They brought me a cup of good old prune juice about every hour on day six, and by that night the war was on.
I told the Head Nurse that I had been thrown out of the house many times due to gas, but this was the first time that I couldn't get thrown out until I dunnit!!
None of this makes much sense to me.
Recently I told my wife that I wasn't really guilty of gas, but the older I get, the smaller I get, so all I was actually doing was "vaporizing". She wasn't impressed by my explanation. She simply said that the next time I decided to vaporize, I could do it standing out on the porch.
It's snowing today and I have a real chill in my old bones.
It was one long difficult trip. I almost starved to death, and the infection almost killed me.
The first day I was presented with a big bowl on my tray which looked like it could contain food. It was covered with a lid to hide the contents. My high hopes were soon deflated by a bowl of brown colored juice of some sort. I think they called it "broth".
Day number two was no better as was days three and four.
The "Dungeon Master,"( nurse), came in and asked me if there was any gas yet. I sheepishly said, " No, so far I'm vapor-locked".She proceeded to tell me that I wasn't going home until I had a BM.
I told her that there was no way that could happen by only eating that dad-blasted "broth". I asked her how much of that stuff would it take to produce anything.
I was instructed to get up and walk as much as I could to help the process along. I must have dragged that IV stand a hundred miles up and down that hall. I even challenged another old codger to a IV stand race. He looked at me with a frown and hobbled off down the hall.
During one trip I passed the door of an old lady that was operated on the same day that I was, and she let out a rap so loud that I almost stumbled over my IV stand.
The nurse at the end of the hall yelled down and said, "Bubba, was that you?" I told her that I only wished that I could rip one that loud. I told her that I couldn't do that good in good health, let alone with a belly full of stitches.
Finally on day six they brought me some real food. By then I told them that I was so weak from starvation that I doubted if I would ever be able to pass gas. They brought me a cup of good old prune juice about every hour on day six, and by that night the war was on.
I told the Head Nurse that I had been thrown out of the house many times due to gas, but this was the first time that I couldn't get thrown out until I dunnit!!
None of this makes much sense to me.
Recently I told my wife that I wasn't really guilty of gas, but the older I get, the smaller I get, so all I was actually doing was "vaporizing". She wasn't impressed by my explanation. She simply said that the next time I decided to vaporize, I could do it standing out on the porch.
It's snowing today and I have a real chill in my old bones.
posted by Bubba at 4:22 PM
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