It's later still on Monday, and I'm out of the triage area and in a regular hospital room, stable, but hooked up to three monitors and an IV. I'm like an octopus with all the wires snaking out from under my gown. Unlike the last time, however, this time the doctors have not given me "bathroom privileges." After I graduated kindergarten, I never thought I'd need permission to go to the little girls' room again. But here I am, stuck in a prone position, the nurses poking their heads in every two minutes to make sure I'm not standing up or break dancing.
But the bed inprisonment has given Emily and I an unexpected opportunity to reaffirm our love for one another. I'm talking about the bed pan. If you've never used one, wow, you and your partner are missing out, because Emily and I just saved thousands of dollars on a vow renewal ceremony. If only I'd known how much closer a piece of cheap Pepto-Bismol-colored plastic would bring us, I would have bought my own bed pan years ago.
Basically, once I knew I had to use one, I held my pee for as long as I could. But with several IV bags of fluids pumped into my body over the last few hours, there was only so long I could wait. I begged to be allowed to use the bathroom, but the nurses just shook their heads and handed us the pan. "I can't do it, I can't do it," I whined. "I really just can't do it." How do you pee in bed?? It's so unnatural. Even our pea-brained chihuahua refuses to piss anywhere near where she sleeps.
"Yes you can, baby," Emily assured. "I'll help you."
I stalled for time by asking the nurse a million times how you use it (the answer: stick it under your bum and, um, and let loose).
I struggled to get it in place. When you're eight months pregnant, holding up your lower body for any amount of time isn't easy. Emily helped me.
I couldn't keep it in place. Emily helped me.
Then I simply froze, unable to pee. Emily helped me. "Just do it sweetie, it's no big deal," she repeated.
I looked up at her as she held the pan, and I cried like a baby. I peed.
It's too much information, I'm sure, but I feel obligated to tell the truth about bed pans: They are messy. It's impossible not to soil yourself or the bed, at least a little bit. Emily helped me.
Quite a love story, right? I think so.