Today I found myself in the men’s room. TWICE. First time at the VA when my husband pulled the call button for help and a shrill alarm started sounding outside the door as well as flashing lights. I went in to check on him and we turned off the alarm, but it rang for nearly a minute. Sadly no one else showed up so those alarm buttons in the bathroom at the VA? Don’t expect much.
The second time we were at Outback for lunch. He insisted on walking in rather than me getting out his wheelchair. We get from the truck to our table (about a 15 minute excruciating process) and then he says he needs to go to the bathroom. Of course it is in the very far back of the restaurant and so he starts making his way there an inch at a time with his walker. I know this is not going to work and he is not going to make it. So I leave him moving at a snails pace toward the bathroom and go out to the truck where I retrieve the bag of extra clothes and his wheelchair that he should have been using.
Soon I find myself in the men’s room at Outback, on my hands and knees in the men’s handicapped stall helping him get his wet jeans, underwear and socks off. Helping him clean up and get clean underwear, socks and sweatpants on. While I am on my hands and knees in the bathroom stall someone else comes in. Once upon a time in another life I may have been a bit of a wild girl for a year or two, but this was definitely a first for me.
Even my husband had to laugh as I said “when you picture me on my knees in the men’s room I bet this was not what you had in mind…”
At least we can still find humor in this messed up life.