Excruciating pain in my buttocks for three days. The large Jamaican nurse says she is going to mix a pint of molasses and a pint of warm milk. Insert a plastic tube into my tush and fill it with this mixture. Life is really getting tough. Why did that little tube feel so big? Why did she leave the room? I had been in serious pain for eight hours, so she could’ve said she was going to stick a vacuum cleaner in my butt and I would have agreed. Shortly after she left, I was ready to explode all over that hospital bed. I hit the call button 25 times then screamed, “Nurse, help!”
It took all the strength in my butt cheeks to hold back the explosion. She popped back in the room. Took a long time to put gloves on. Pulled the tube out. I ran down the hallway half-naked and barefoot. It was one of the top five bowel movements of my life time. The noise alone was scary. The pain was finally gone. I thanked my nurse as if she had saved my life. I am going to now eat more fruits and vegetables.
What are you some kind of jerk? When I took my math homework to my Dad I would eventually be hit with this question in his loud angry voice. My father was a chemical engineer. He went to Johns Hopkins, Princeton and MIT. I was kicked out of the local community college. After a long explanation of how you find the answer to a math problem, I knew he was going to ask me what the answer to the problem was. I was wrong 100% of the time. That’s when he would loudly question my intelligence. This was another blow to my already fragile ego.
Fortunately I have gotten through life without ever using a mathematical formula, geometry, or algebra. I have seldom used my brain for anything. I am more like my mother who could not keep a checking account straight. Deep thinking is not my forte.
Do you want to shave my legs? My roommate’s girlfriend was questioning me from across the room. She came out of the bathroom totally naked. My roommate was at work. I was stoned so my judgement was thrown off. Her smile, and what I knew of her past, led me to believe she wanted to make whoopie.
It was 1982, sex, drugs and rock and roll were a big part of my life then. My roommate was a crack head. This attractive girl would run up the street and get it for him. She was fearless. That afternoon she taught me things you don’t learn in school. I was 24 and nearly a virgin. Twenty minutes passed and I was as wiped out as if I had wrestled a bear. There are events from my past that I wish I could forget, but this is not one of them.