Sunday, April 20, 2008

Keep the door closed

My parents have an elderly neighbor man that sends out a mass email every morning. This guy is old, like 90 something and uses a computer. I find that amazing. My parents still have trouble using theirs and they have had it for more than a few years now. What is even more amazing about their neighbor is that he has found it necessary to email his daily bathroom habits.

My mom finds it disturbing, yet forwards me the more interesting emails. For instance, the other day, Edgar, I will call him, let everyone know that he had an enema. Nice. Before that, emails went out detailing his prostate troubles and his new purchase of Depends. Do you really think that we all need to know this kind of private info? I would say, no.

My grandmother did the same thing. When I was young, we lived in Dallas and my grandparents lived here in Wichita. We visited at least once a year and got lots of letters. This was before computers so they were actually written on paper! Anyway, my grandma would write about her bathroom habits. WHY?

When I would visit my grandparents solo, my grandma apparently found it necessary to slip me a nice glass of Metamucil each morning. YUM! Keep in mind, she put half and half in my cereal and let me drink as much 7Up as a small child could drink. Once I threw up from drinking too much 7Up and eating a strawberry frosted doughnut. Ah, the memories.

Flash forward to one of her many stays at Riverside hospital. Just entering that hospital was enough to make me want to vomit. There was always the pervasive smell of death, old people and puke that clung to my clothes and skin, even after I had left. An intern came in to her room to ask her routine questions. She questioned my grandma about whether she was ever constipated. My grandma looked at her and said, "I was born constipated." I don't know how you get more honest than that. The intern also asked whether she wanted a pelvic or not. Hello, she was like 80, cut her a break.

Being that I just got Mia mostly potty trained, I have heard my fair share of, "Mommy, poopy" and "Mommy, peepee." I am ready to not have to see or hear about bathroom habits from an adult or child. What happens in the bathroom, stays in the bathroom.

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