It's just p**p

Well it is. But then again I can't even bring myself to type it out in the title of this entry. It was my mother who raised me thus. We could talk openly about a lot but bathroom humor just wasn't humorous. I didn't get the finger pulling joke was about until I was in my 30s -and I was completely revolted when I learned what it was all about. I was in high school before I knew the "f-word" wasn't the 4 letter word that ended in t. Thus there has been little to laugh about here.
Besides the pain and life-threatening part, my mom is simply repulsed by the reality of the colostomy. I pretend not to be but I am too. She turns away and cries and I try to sound cheerful and nonchalant and then I go and cry -or yell at my husband -or forget what red lights are there for -or have my husband yell back at me because we are both too exhausted and too overwhelmed and ...
When the home-health nurse said we had to take her to the ER Saturday night due to unusually severe pains and swollen ankles, instead of acting like the veterans of such things we are, we acted like the traumatized wrecks that we are (also). If a friend hadn't stopped by and reminded us of basics like shoes and keys we wouldn't have made it there. The surgeon said, "I'll meet you at the ER" which sounds so as if he'll be waiting by the door -at least if you're delusional it does. So eventually when we'd gone through triage and we'd recounted everything to everyone the surgeon came and said (again I quote), "you just had a big p**py." We stopped at Burger King for fries on the way home and deliriously -even my mom, repeated his words over and over again.
...because while it is true my mom has never appreciated bathroom humor - it was her subversive sense of humor that inspired my choice of garden planters.