Today, I watched a guy vaccuuming the ceiling.
I grew up with a Dutch grandmother and I have had a Dutch mother-in-law for almost 25 years. Dutch women are notorious for being obsessive about cleaning, but I’ve never seen that before.
There is an enormous man in the next room. Eeeeeenormous.
As I walked past, he was clearly visible: sitting on the side of his bed eating breakfast, wearing nothing but shorts.
That is, I assume he was wearing shorts.
I hope he is wearing shorts.
I couldn’t actually see them.
There are some things you simply cannot unsee.
Let me start by saying this is NOT about my husband. It’s about behaviour I have witnessed in other people over the past two days.
When a cardiologist performs an angiogram and then gives a diagnosis that a patient’s condition is very serious, and he has 90% blockage in the main coronary artery, you should probably believe them, especially if neither of you have any medical training or experience.
When they tell you that you need a six-way bypass, you shouldn’t google the patient’s condition, find an alternative treatment that isn’t available in your country because it’s highly experimental, and try to tell the doctor that he wants that treatment instead.
When the doctor returns with a Professor of Cardiology for reinforcement, you shouldn’t try to tell the Professor that he is wrong.
When you do not just one, but all, of these things, the people who witness what you say and do are going to decide that you are a very arrogant and very special kind of stupid.
A nurse just went into the bathroom and came out visibly shaken.
Hubby’s specimen extraordinaire has now been escorted out by security.
They are probably doing a postmortem now, even though it was still alive and launching its pan-to-nostrils offensives as it was being taken out.
I guess we can rest assured that it died fighting.
It sure as hell smelt that way.
It’s sure to be interred as peacefully as it came into the world.
The cleaner has been into the bathroom twice and walked out in disgust both times.
I think hubby’s stool sample is creating its own little code grey in there.
The doctor asked for a stool sample, so this morning my husband obliged.
He has been telling nurses for 90 minutes that it’s in the bathroom waiting for them.
I’ve been adding my own commentary to the conversations:
“It’s THIS BIG!”
“I just checked… it’s now three feet long.”
“I guess you’re used to people trying to give you crap.”
“I guess if they don’t take it away, we’ll have to go on undeterred.”
“Your request has been logged.”
“Well, that’s just shit.”
“You weren’t meant to fill the whole container, you know…”
“It just kept piling up like he’s a soft-serve machine or something.”
“Any drinks or fries with your order?”
“There’s a bear in there…”
It’s a gift.
Oh wait, I can use that, too.
“I always pay attention, even when I’m not paying attention.”
Cleared that right up.
The person who snores loudly beside you every night will be annoyed by the snoring of someone else in the room.
The nurses tell you to rest, but every time you try to take a nap someone walks in to take your obs or ask you how you’re doing.
Daytime television is its own form of torture.