Archive for the ‘ Poop ’ Category

Henrietta update

Don’t forget to enter my contest to win millions in cash and prizes! Wait… who said that?

Just go here and do as I say and nobody will get hurt! Seriously, this is some really good crap,  booty!

Sooo, I’m like just minding my own business this afternoon and in the span of a few minutes, my laid-back, vegging out, bon bon popping self was plunged deep, DEEP into hell.

I walked into Henrietta’s room to check on her, thinking all the way from her doorway to her bedside that it smelled quite… bad. Like urine, but she has a catheter, so… what?

She has been steadily sliding downhill lately and warrants trips in to check on her even when she hasn’t rung the bell. She mouthed some garbledy-gook to me. She makes absolutely no sense anymore. Only a few recognizable words scattered here and there amongst crazy sounds. And nothing that you could string together in a sentence. Plus the fact that she can barely make any noise at all. Her voice is a mere whisper of it’s former self. Literally.

Anyway, I check her out and chat with her for a few minutes. Pull her up more in bed and ask if she needs to sit on the potty. She shakes her head no and I tell her that I really do need to change the dressing on her bottom anyway. She nods OK and I get her ready to roll over on her side. I get gloves and prepare to get down to business.

Sloooowly and carefully I roll her over after I have undone her diaper.  I peel back the old bandages and examine the remains of a few small bedsores. Yes, they are coming along nicely.

I turn around to retrieve some sterile gauze and the medicine tube from the bedside table. I then turn back and there is a poop fountain sprung anew right in front of me.

Oh, so fast. How did she do that? A big stream of it. I shove the new diaper under the… stream and begin catching all the rest that’s coming out. I clean it all up off of her, remove the soiled hospital chux and there is now poop stoppage.

This is a good thing.

I run out of t.p. and am about to go and get some more, since she is resting comfortably on her side and the more time she can spend off of her butt the better for getting her sores well.

The phone rings. So I trot down the hall and answer it. It’s my brudder, Cam. He is calling to confer about the malware problem I’m having on my blog site. I tell him I’ll call him back in no more than 5 minutes.

When I turn to leave the DINING ROOM where I had left the phone, I notice shiny footprints on the floor. Not good. The floor was clean moments ago.

Weird. They seem to lead right up to where I am standing.

Odd. They are the same shape, size and pattern as the soles of my flip-flops.

Slowdumbandstupid. That’s me.


I backtrack and find footprints through the foyer, aaaall the way down the hall and across her room. As a matter of fact they are all over her room. Between the bed and dresser and closet and all around the nightstand.

It’s pee, people. It’s everywhere. And I had been cavorting in it the whole time.  If you can call cleaning up pee footprints and bandaging butt sores cavorting.

Her catheter was leaking. There was a puddle of pee on the floor at her bedside the size of a turkey platter. How I didn’t see it when I walked in the first time is beyond my understanding. I blame these wood floors. You can’t see anything on them.

So I spent… God knows how long, on my hands and knees with a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of disinfectant, crawling all over the freakin house spray, wipe, put in plastic bag. Spray, wipe, put in plastic bag. Spray, wi….. you get the idea.

It took forever!

I know this turned out to be just one long bitch session about my ridiculous administrations to her and all and she really is doing much worse and don’t see her lasting too much longer.

I joke around about her, all the shenanigans she used to get up to and the problems with taking care of her.

I wonder how it will feel when she’s gone?

Easter update.

Remember my plans to take it easy and chill out on Easter Sunday?  Well, I was well into doing that and just hanging out in my nightgown cause, hey, I could.  And John won’t be off work until late.  Henrietta plans on staying in bed and watching a DVD of The Stations of The Cross.  So I am on my hands and knees in my raggedy nightgown, scrubbing the bathroom floor, (around the toilet, no less) flitting around the house in my finest lingerie when what happens?  The *&^%$#! doorbell rings.  I looked out the window and I don’t recognize the car, can’t see the front porch from where I am and so I walk over and snatch the door open because whoever is showing up on Easter UNANNOUNCED deserves to see me like this and smell the bleach emminating from my hands and knees.  (Plus they need to be appreciative of the fact that there is no pee on the floor in my guest bathroom.)

There, followed by her SIX children is Henrietta’s grand-daughter.  The one that shows up once or twice every few years.

She said, “Sorry, I didn’t call, I lost the number.”

Dude, we are LISTED.

“We’re just going to pay a short visit.”

I was not the least bit apologetic about my appearance and the state of things.  I told her H was on the bed pan, which she was and the smell of poop probably snuck in and visited her as soon as I went in and hauled her off of it.

*Why does spell check say “snuck” is not a word?  It most certainly is… English According to Krissa.  Look it up.*

Of course then I had to dress her and put her in the wheel chair and the whole nine yards.

Those six kids must have completed the circuit of living room, breakfast area, kitchen, dining room, foyer, living room, breakfast area, kitchen, dining room, foyer… etc., a milliondy-two times.


She got here at 3:00.  It is now 3:53.  She is here to see her Mimi, not me.  I am trying to be ensconced in the riffraff room by myself, only “they” keep running in here.

Soon I will scoop out my eyeballs with a spoon.

I can see into my dining room from here and there are children hiding under the table and pulling the tablecloth down to hide themselves.  I have all my bill paying crap all over the table. (Did I mention I wasn’t expecting company?)  An avalanche of paperwork slid off the table and onto the floor.

Kids scattered like cockroaches.

The bathroom door just opened and kids came out.  If there is pee on the floor in there I will hurt someone.

All I was waiting for was H to do the poo thing so I could put in the DVD for her and I could go and take a bath and clean up for John to come home.

It is 4:10 and I just heard her say that they have to get going.

Now?  How ’bout now?  Oh, come on!  Now?

It’s 4:11 now.

I’m not having fun.  Please comment and tell me about your good holiday experience.

It's a Shit Explosion.

What a day!  I have spent the majority of it on the phone with the state and other people trying to set H up with a new Provider Care company.  Last Friday I FINALLY managed to track down the owner of the company that sent out our little thief that swiped the hundred dollar bill from my purse.  I had left multiple messages throughout the week for her to call me back and she never did.  I finally just managed to get somebody to answer the phone in the office that didn’t know that she wasn’t wanting to talk to me.

She was a bitch.

I was very nice and told her that I just wanted to make sure she had been told what had happened as I would want to know if it was my company and she simply stated that yes, she knew and the aide had denied it and she was made to fill out an incident report.

I said something to the effect of, “Yes, I am sure she did deny it.  I mean if she stole money from me, why would she have a problem with lying?”.

To which she said… nothing.

That’s about all I got.  No apology, nothing.

I told her that I hadn’t heard from anyone to ask me any questions about what had happened and if anyone wanted to contact me to fluff up the incident report with, ooooh, I dunno, MY SIDE OF WHAT HAPPENED, I would be here, 24/7 to answer the phone or door and help them out.  Cause, hey, you know me, HERE TO SERVE!

She actually indicated that that would not be necessary.  NOT NECESSARY.  So the incident report about the employee stealing from me is filled out entirely by… the employee.  Needless to say I decided to move on to the big boys.

So I called the state of Texas, after all this is a state funded agency.  It’s services are paid for by Henrietta’s medicare.  So the Texas Department of Aging and Disability was contacted.  I tried to nail down the case worker that was assigned to her long ago, but she has been moved to another department.  They gave me another very nice little lady that was horrified to hear what had happened to us and, even though I KNOW she probably hears of stuff like this everyday, (I mean she was in the complaint department), she was courteous enough to be understanding.  She looked and said that the agency was supposed to report what had happened to the state as a matter of law and, guess what?, they hadn’t.

Big surprise.  (Can you hear the sarcasm dripping off here?)  I asked if they were gonna get in trouble for it and felt like a little kid that had been wronged and wanted their brother to “get it” for what he’d done.  Vengeful, ugly, spiteful feelings.

Felt sooo good when she said, Yes”.

She then put me in contact with my new case worker and they are faxing John a list of new agencies at his work for him to bring home and me throw darts at and pick out a new one.


In Poop News today, Henrietta is still without a catheter.

How is this Poop News, Krissa?  A catheter is only a font for urine.

Well, don’t worry, I will tell you, ( read sounding a bit vicious), BECAUSE I KNOW YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW.

We are going through tons of diapers and latex gloves and poor H is usually opting to stay in bed almost all day since she has to be changed so often.  I am getting up well before dawn with John and changing her and then again about 10:00 AM and so on.  Well, after I had fed her breakfast she rang for the bedpan and said she had messed her diaper.  This is not unusual, but the amount of it was something else.   The…. stuff, (trying to be nice here and not offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities), was squirting out the sides of the diaper and covered a good part of the hospital chux that she was lying on.  It also managed to get it on a little pink pillow that I had been using to put between her knobby knees.  I did not see this and picked the pillow up and tossed it over against the wall on the other side of her bed to get it out of the way.  I was a bit frantic and, indeed, was on hold for some agency office or another.

I know my previous little soliloquy about the locating of the proper people to talk to was fairly straight forward, but come on, we’ve all been on the other end of phone trying to do business with a government agency before…  I went through 5 or 6 different people and called tons of numbers, some of which didn’t work, and was on hold all. freakin. day.

So I am trying to get a move on with this diaper so I don’t have to hang up or lose the person I’m waiting on and start all over again.  I have a look of …. shock and awe(?) on my face apparently, as Henrietta repeatedly asks me if she has diarrhea.  I tell her no, she just has… a lot.  Period.

I had thrown on a robe to go in when the bell rang as I was in the process of changing clothes.  Yes, I do multiple things like this while on the phone taking care of business.  Witchypoo, over at Psychicgeek can relate to the whole being-tied-to-the-phone-while-attempting-to-move-about-your-life scenario.  Well, at some point the tie around the waist of my fluffy pink robe had swung forward and drug through the poo.  Henrietta just innocently lay her hand down by her side,  In the poo.  The little pink pillow I threw up against the wall to get it out of the way?  Trail of poo going down the wall.  I AM NOT EVEN KIDDING.  It was gruesome.

I kept thinking, “Oh my gawd.  These are the very last two gloves… what if there’s more of it?”  There is no way there is anymore shit left in that little old lady.  And John is bringing home more gloves.  And diapers.  And,  sadly, Miralax.

I got her dressed and all squared away eventually and she just looked at me and said, “Krissa, I think I’ll just stay in bed for a little while…”

Ya think?

Poor thing.  It wore her out.  All that hauling up her butt and cleaning from the back of her thighs to the middle of her back.  Me too.

Needless to say, I took a long hot bath and read a little bit in my book, About the Author.  It’s the book club book for the present at Holly’s blog, Anglophile Football Fanatic.  Go check it out and read along with us!I

I swear, by my very own little old lady, the next post I am doing is a giveaway.  I have acquired some really pretty darn cool prizes and have a Unconsicous Mutterings coming up.  If you will play, I will pay!  heh heh.

Please stay tuned for further bowel movements developements.

It is raining shit up in here!

This morning long before H was up the nurse called and said she was bringing by some supplies for me and doing a “supervisory visit”.  Well, this is all new to me.  I told her that the other nurse was just out here day before yesterday and they only come about once a month, unless there is something wrong and I call them.  She was surprised and said she was just supposed to bring by some supplies anyway.  I couldn’t imagine what, but told her to come on along.

She showed up in a few minutes and went on in to wake up and see H.  I went about my business and saw no reason to go in as there was no need for me to stand and scream what the nurse was saying at H because the nurse is too lazy to raise her voice and do it herself interpretation.  Sometimes Henrietta is having a particular complaint that she wants to address and so I go in and relay the answers back to her, but not today.  Not that I knew of.

She stayed back there talking to her, taking her vitals and getting information about the frequency, size, shape, color, smell and over all IQ of her stools.  I know this because the neighbors at the end of the street could hear her screaming the questions.  When every last bit of info about the poo, (classified and otherwise), was gathered.  She emerged victorious and held out two plastic bags to me proudly saying, “Here, I brought you supplies.”

Does it make me a bad person that my gut instinct, first response was, “You got booze in there?”

I took the bags and judged by weight and size of the bulges that there were several catheters, a box of latex gloves, and about 3 sterile catheter kits.

The latex gloves were a bit of a surprise and I am guessing the nice lady in the office, Paula had included them for me as that’s not part of the deal.  We are expected to buy our own gloves and I go through a shitload of them.  Hahaha!  Did you see what I did there?  I use the gloves to change shitty diapers and empty bedpans and I said I go through a shitload of them!  Hahahaha!  OK, maybe the shit jokes are a bit dense around here, but so is the shit.  (I bet that nurse didn’t even ask about density….)

Then the nurse leaves and almost immediately Henrietta rings the bell.  I go to see what’s up and am a bit surprised she rang and I hadn’t had time to get her breakfast in to her yet.

“Krissa, I hate to tell you this, but I have a dirty diaper.  That stuff just came out all of the sudden!”

It’s always called “that stuff”.  She has never referred to the poo as anything other than “stuff” once it has happened.

I must admit it helps to think of it this way…

So I assure her that it’s all OK and we set about the business of cleaning it up.  I see fairly soon that the reason she was so unaware of the situation is that it’s very loose.  (Am I getting too graphic, yet?  Cause I don’t mean to be, but really… YOU weren’t here cleaning this old lady’s butt up and changing gloves and swiping her with the required lotion.  SO DON’T JUDGE.)

We got done with that and I brought her the first course.  Oatmeal with a few cut up prunes and a dose of Miralax.

Now I know what you’re thinking.  Why would Krissa give H the Miralax if she just had a U. P. that was loose?

Well, my pretties, it’s like this.  It doesn’t matter what I do.  I’m screwed.

I have tried cutting off the fiber and shit-making producers as soon as there is any kind of disturbance in the digestive-go-about before.  It is all for not.  There would be an Abrupt Poop Stoppage and massive discomfort.

So we don’t do that anymore.  I mean the APS wouldn’t happen until the next day, but it WOULD happen.

Aaaaanywaaaay, I got her all cleaned and lotioned up and she has the rest of her breakfast.  An egg, breakfast sausage and an oven roll with a bit of jelly.   Of course, the U.P. has set her off her game and she prefers to stay in bed for the rest of the day.


A few hours later she rings for me to come in there and she has had another poopy diaper.

Well, shit.  I am just elbow deep in it today.

The day progresses and eventually I bring her in her supper.  (She never eats lunch and considering she doesn’t get up until noon, I can pretty much see why.

Remember she is being sickly today and playing it up big time.  No other complaints other than she is poopy.  Literally.  She wonders aloud numerous times what is the matter with the poops and why “all that stuff just keeps coming out…”.  I clearly have no new answers and have told her repeatedly that it’s OK.  Nothing to worry about.  Same ol’ same ol’…

Well, tonight I took her in the loaded toothbrush, fresh water, her two pills and a napkin and spit bowl.  She told me that when she was coughing during her soup she may have messed up her diaper.

So I peel it all back and there it is.  POOP.  From The Endless Font of Poopage.  AGAIN.

So I changed her again.  And ran like hell.

I want the hell out of here people!  I need a makeover!  WITH NO POOP!  Or even mudpacks, cause I don’t even think I like chocolate anymore due to the color and texture…..

I see these fairly often on other people’s sites and they are always much fun to do so I thought I’d try one, but I’m making up my own words.  Well, OK, not making up words, you know, but doing my own list of new words.  Well, OK, not new words, but a new list…

Oh for Pete’s sake, just give it a try.

Copy and paste the following words into the comment box and put your answer next to the given word.  You’ll find my answers below the list.  But, if you’re like me you won’t want to read anybody else’s answers until you put down your own because it makes me you focus on their answer and not as able to think freely of my your own.


1. Book:

2. angst:

3. drama:

4. paper plates:

5. toothpick:

6. leaves:

7. self-portrait:

8. sister:

9. light:

10. carpet:

OK, here are my answers results:

1. Book: Long hot bath with John Grisham… er, you KNOW what I mean.

2. angst: teenager

3. drama: teenage girl

4. paper plates: put dishwasher soap on the grocery list

5. toothpick: skinny

6. leaves: Rake!  Front yard looks like a bunch of Mexicans live here.  (Oops… I forgot.)

7. self-portrait: VanGogh

8. sister: argue

9. light: lamp

10. carpet: Flor catalog


And if all this fun and frivolity wasn’t enough, get this.

I was reading Ree’s blog, Hotfessional yesterday and came across this worthy information:

Along with a good sized list of giving people who are making valuable contributions out there, Robeez is making donations for every eCard that is sent.  So for heaven’s sake send an ecard, heck, send a lot of them!  The money goes to K.I.D.S, (Kids In Distressed Situations).  It’s free to send them and they’re really cute.

And then!

My dear friend, SSG over at Confessions of a (Sometimes) Serendipitous Girl, has awarded me with a shiny new award!  Good old brother, Cam has already got it all squared away in my sidebar.  Love the love!  It says I’m a “Superior Scribbler”…What I think she meant was “Demented”, but, I’m not gonna split hairs.  It was very sweet and I loves her for it!

Thanks SSG!

That’s it for me.  I gotta go wipe H’s butt.

Oh.  You think I’m kidding?

I’m not.  😉