You might want to skip this one. Really.
Have you ever had the crap scared out of you?
Happened to me.
Literally. Sort of.
Like I said, you might want to skip this one.
Thursday night, I was watching TiVo. And, I'd been drinking.
No, I'm still a good Baptist. I had been drinking Diet Rite. Only, I had had a few. Two with supper, and a couple more while watching TiVo. Hadn't gotten ready for bed, but had removed my shoes and shirt. So, I'm in my socks, pants, boxers, and t-shirt.
I fell asleep watching, oh, I believe it was some National Geographic science show that it had recorded earlier in the week.
Fast forward to a little after midnight. Unless you decide to skip the rest.
I wake up. Oh, I've got to pee. Really bad.
It's hard to get up. It hurts. Really bad. Have to pee. Really full bladder. I'm talking Copernicus.
I get to my feet. It hurts to walk. It hurts to not walk. I head to the bathroom. Oh, wait. There's a problem with the septic tank on that end. So, I head to the other end of the house. That bathroom works just fine.
I turn on the light and grab at the door handle, but miss.
There's the toilet. Lid down.
I reach down to lift the lid and seat. It hurts.
Okay, nearly ready. Button undone, zipper down ... okay, everything's well in hand. I really need to pee.
I don't remember how to pee. Let me think. Oh, yeah.
Okay, there we go. Aim is good. Flow's a little weak at first, but picking up steam. Still hurts, though. Not the peeing, but the full bladder.
Wait a second. Where am I?
I look to the right. Is that the tub? Yes, it is. And I'm looking at it from the inside.
I'm in the tub. Most of me, anyway. How did I get here?
I see my feet. They are hanging out of the tub. Why am I in the tub?
My right shoulder hurts. And it's cold. There's cold liquid on my shoulder. No, wait, it's on my upper arm. Slowly running down my upper arm. Why is this happening?
I look at my feet again. What's that beyond my feet? Is that the toilet? There's something about the toilet. What is it about the toilet?
Oh, yeah. I came in here to pee. 'Cause I had to pee, really bad. So bad, it hurt. Did I pee? Yes, I started to pee, I remember that much. But what happened next?
Oh, well, I don't need to be lying in the tub. Let me get up.
Something's wrong. I can't get up. So, I struggle a little. My feet are now in the tub. That doesn't help. Not at all.
Okay, I'll sit here for a minute. Maybe I'll remember how I got here. But first, I'm tired. I'll relax for a spell.
Uh, oh. I need to pee. I can't get up. Maybe I can get up if I wait and try in a minute or so.
Wait, this isn't right. I might have hurt myself. I'm thinking I must have fallen. Surely, that's what happened. But why did I fall? I went to pee. Actually started to pee. I was standing there, emptying my bladder -- or trying to, anyway -- when ... what? I'm suddenly in the bathtub.
I fell, that's got to be it. Did I hurt myself? Am I okay? I really should get up and check. But I can't.
Why can't I get up? This isn't right.
Okay, now I'm peeing on myself. I look down, and see my t-shirt is covering the source of the urine flow. So, I'm wetting my t-shirt, and it's wetting my stomach. And my sides. And my back.
Now, there's another problem. Am I emptying my bowels? Why would this be happening? Can I stop it? No, I can't.
Doesn't this happen when people die? That is, don't they lose bowel control? Am I dying? Is that what it's like to die? If so, I don't think I like it. No, not one little bit.
No, this can't be what's happening. First death, then muscles relax. I'm just not able to control things. Besides, it's not as bad as I had feared. I'm not crapping all over myself. Well, maybe a little.
Okay, I'm getting a picture of things. I'm not able to control everything. Hence, the urine flow and slight loss of bowel control. And my inability to get up.
So, I'm hurt. But how bad?
Head injury? Maybe. But I'm thinking clearly. Or am I? No, I'm not. I am a little fuzzy.
All in all, though, this isn't good. I'm unable to control my muscles fully. I can look around. I moved my feet. But I can't sit up and have lost at least partial control of my bladder and bowels. So, I'm in trouble, that much I know. How much trouble? No idea.
I need help.
That wasn't much of a call. Let me try again.
"Help. Help. Help"
Each one a little louder than the previous.
"Help. Help! Help! Help!"
A response. Let me call again.
The Wife appears. She's shocked to see me lying there. I reach out, and she takes my hand.
She tries to ask, but can't find the words. She's almost in shock. Finally, words come. She wants to make sure I'm okay, but she knows I'm not.
I try to explain it, but I'm not certain that what I'm saying has any bearing on reality. She has a confused look on her face. Is it my situation, or is it that I'm not making any sense?
Finally, I get across that I came in to pee, but ended up in the bathtub.
"You're stuck," she says. My undershirt is hung on the bathtub faucet. That's why I couldn't get up.
Finally, with her there, things are starting to get better.
My bladder no longer is causing pain. Because I've emptied it, starting first in the toilet, then finishing on myself in the bathtub.
Maybe I can get up now.
Sure enough, I'm able to, with help. The Wife helps me to my feet, and guides me to our bathroom.
After I get my clothes off, with help, I shower, get myself clean, and head to bed.
Maybe I'll wake up and it'll all be a bad dream.
But it wasn't.