by Kent Fletcher
A couple of days ago, when the temps were still warm and balmy in Texas, my Little Darlin’ decided she wanted to play before breakfast. So I tossed her squeaky toy down the hall and she hauled her fat little body after it; however, about the time I caught sight of her retrieval, she stopped and puked on the floor (linoleum, thankfully). And I was nearly right behind her in her act of puking. I had to actually turn away, head off to another room, out of sight, out of mind. It was nearly an hour later that I was able to find some paper towels to get the stuff off the floor, and even then I had to take an educated guess on the exact spot to drop the towels, as I was still gagging.
Which reminded me of an episode back in November at my nephew’s home in Jackson, Mississippi. Niece Lisa had to take her number one son to the doctor before the family departed for New Orleans for Thanksgiving, and she asked me if I would watch number two son, Talbot, while she was gone. Talbot is a tad over two years old now, in that ‘terrible twos’ stage, but I said sure, I can handle him. Hah! Just about lost it when I saw the snot running out his nose! Was all I could do to get a napkin and wipe the drivel away before I puked.
Some adult I am, huh? And I was worried about his pooping in the interim.
So I still had to unload my pick’um’up truck with all my tools, as I would be building some shelves for Lisa while the family was off gallivanting around the countryside and I was, in general, house-sitting.
Now Talbot was great with this little task of helping me, even one piece at a time, and for some reason the snot wasn’t flowing much either. I also kept asking Talbot about his pooping machine, and he kept saying he was fine -- which I knew, because of my history, was a very good thing.
About the time he asked me to hold the needle in her arm for a moment, one of the nurses turned the woman’s head to one side and began aspirating her mouth and throat. The last thing I remember was saying someone else should hold that needle. I woke some 15 minutes later in the room across the hall.
Moral of the story? Wanna get my attention? Just start vomiting or letting your nose run or put me in a situation where aspiration is taking place, you’ll have my attention, sho’ nuff!
A native Mississippian and retired military, Kent Fletcher now lives in Texas. He’s a storyteller from way back. Enjoy more of his tales at USADEEPSOUTH:
Last Locomotive North
Check the USADS Articles list for many more! Write Kent at HOTS64.
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