What a crappy day...

Hi Steve,

Damn, this day has been full of crap.  I mean that literally and figuratively.  I've never had a kid, ya know, so changing diapers was never included in my daily routine.  I didn't like doing it for my sister when she had her kid either.  I just like taking the kid, spoiling it rotten, sugaring him or her up with some candy, and then returning him or her home to the parents.  THAT is the extent of my experience with kids.  I have always been the "fun Aunt Becky."  I rather LIKE being the "fun Aunt Becky."  So I know NOW, after today, that it's a damned good thing I never had a kid of my own.

Why is that, you may wonder?  Lemme tell ya.  When a 90 year old woman doesn't drink enough water, or eat enough veggies or fruit, and won't drink her prune juice, guess what??  She can't take a shit.  Not to mention adding some medication that has a side effect of constipation.  Old people tend to have this issue more often than younger people, and are too embarrassed by it to mention it to anybody.  They would rather sit and DIG IT OUT themselves, making a huge mess all over themselves and the bathroom, than to actually TELL somebody about it.

So the morning started with an issue at our bank that we had to go get figured out, which sucked. Then, we drove about 40 minutes away to drop off this half-stained, half-stripped rocking chair to a guy who owns a flea market store and refinishes furniture to sell it, but the stupid place wasn't even OPEN today. Then, we get home, and Florence is in the bathroom, and I hear her crying...more like whimpering really. I peek in, and see her trying to dig into her ass.  GROSS.  I said, "What are you doing?" She whimpered, "It hurts. I can't get it out."

The next 3.5 hours of my life were so very disgusting, I feel gross and icky all over.

I even said to her, as a tongue-in-cheek teasing to get her to calm down, "Ya know, after dealing with your POOP, Florence, I've never had a baby, and now I can honestly say, I DON'T EVER WANT ONE." My mom even joked, "We love ya, Flo....even if you ARE full of shit."

Have you ever given anybody an enema before?  Well, I used to do them for myself all the time because, in all honesty, I loved anal sex with my boyfriend.  So every time he was planning to come over, I made sure I was all squeaky clean.  There's nothing more I loathe in this world than gross germy bodily functions.  I have actually CRIED like a baby if I made a mess during sex. Cannot STAND IT.  Won't sleep in the wet spot, HELL NO.  Don't even try it.  I'll kick your butt to the curb if you do.

So here I am, with no medical knowledge, and only a vague memory of doing an enema for myself (haven't had anal since I met Pete).  SIGH.  So, I go get my mom and ask her to help me.  We lay this 90 year old woman down on her bed, and put on latex gloves, squeeze this enema into her butt, and wait.  Meanwhile, her blood pressure is sky high, her pulse is way too fast, and we're afraid she might have  heart attack or a stroke.  (Wouldn't that be a PISSER, to die from taking a CRAP that caused you to have a damned heart attack?!  I'd be so pissed off, I'd smack God across the head, WTF GOD? REALLY?!)

Anyway, I'll spare you the gory details, but it wasn't pretty.  Now I feel all disgusting and dirty and nastified, so I need to go take a shower.  I've washed my hands about 50 times.  I had gloves on, sure, but holy bejeezus that was NASTY!!  We finally had Pete go get some suppositories, some Dulcolax, and some prune juice.  I called the doctor, even, and they said they would page her, but she's never called us back......what a friggin' stupid ass doctor.....I'm so disgusted with doctors.  I called my new one today to ask about my blood work to see what my A1C level is, but the lab apparently didn't HAVE my blood work.  I wasted an ENTIRE DAY doing this stupid lab work stuff, and they now tell me, 2 months after the fact, that they don't HAVE IT?!  GRRRRR!!!  So I'm now going to have to pick up another prescription and then go to another lab, and do it all over again.  GRRRRRRR.

Today has really sucked major sweaty, hairy balls.

WE GOTTA GET A DAMNED NURSE IN HERE BEFORE I GO BALLISTIC.

I told Pete today, "Don't you EVER get Alzheimers, or I'll just kill ya dead right on the spot.  I'm not in the mood for YOU to get this shit too.  Don't do that to me, or you'll be sorry you ever lived."  (He thinks I was joking).  I said, "It's gonna be MY TURN after this old lady croaks, and YOU can take care of MY poopy ass for a change!"

I did NOT sign up for this.  This ring around my finger does NOT constitute signing up for this shit.

Today is one of those crappy days that I'm glad has finally ended.

Pete says, "Hey, go write to Steve and tell him all about this fun day you've had."

So, it's his fault I've written all this to ya.  You have my permission to beat his ass.  Seriously.

Bye for now.

Love, Rebecca