I slowly walked outside. My head hung low.
Upon getting outside, I looked off into the distance and mumbled to myself, “Well, now I know my body can do that…”
I stood there, staring off into the distance.
“How did that happen? How come they weren’t prepared? I called and called. I told them over and over, ‘have towels ready. Have towels ready.’ I called once a week for the past month… ‘I have Spina Bifida and no control over my bowels, bladder or Sphincters.’ I told them. Over and Over.”
I walked to the car and hopped inside.
“How’d it go?” asked Papa.
“Just take me home, please.”
I was having some type of Colonoscopy. I say “Some Type Of” because they didn’t put me to sleep. I was awake. I was awake to witness it all.
“Did they find anything?” Papa asks.
“I pooped in a nurse’s hair…” I said, looking out my passenger-side window.
“Oh…”
And Papa knew not to really talk to me too much. He knew to leave me alone.
After Five Minutes or so of silence, I say, “I didn’t know it was possible.”
“I called them every week for over a month and told them to have towels ready.”
“Did they have towels?”
“No. Sheets. They had bed sheets. “It” just slides off of that. Sheets don’t do any good. I know.”
“I wonder why they didn’t get some towels for your situation.”
“I don’t know. All I heard was, ‘Get the sheets! Get the sheets!’ Over and Over.”
We drive in silence for a good while longer.
“Papa?”
“Yeah?”
“She had a crappy hair day…”
