OK. So.
My wife is currently in a rehab facility learning to walk again on two broken legs and a broken hand after a murder attempt.
Despite the attack and her long painful recovery, she has kept up a positive attitude. But being trapped in medical facilities for a month has been tough; she has so little control over her circumstances.
She’s been happy about each little step on the return to independence. One if the big ones was being able to use a handy plastic personal urinal to urinate unassisted. The thing hangs on her bedframe and is her companion and a trophy of progress. It touches her hands and skin, but it’s rinsed after each use and she’s not too worried about its cleanliness, urine being essentially sterile.
Today the nursing assistant dumped it out and returned it dripping wet to her tray table. If you haven’t spent a lot of time off your feet lately, you need to understand the tray table is her personal universe…she eats, writes, entertains, makes calls, stores her glasses and toothbrush there…everything that happens while she’s in bed happens on the tray table.
And she didn’t hear a sink run.
Hesitant to jump to conclusions, she waited until the next time the urinal was emptied (same staff member). Pour, flush, returned rinsed and dripping wet…no sink. “How did you do that so fast?” she asked.
He told her – he poured it into the toilet, flushed, then immersed it in the toilet bowl and swished it around.
Okay, so here’s the Pit part you’ve been waiting for. WHAT THE ACTUAL TYPHOID MARY FUCK! It’s 20-goddamned-17, and medical professionals are swirling her personal care equipment in a nursing home toilet?
Double check me on this – it’s not phobic to be horrified something dipped in a medical facility’s toilet was placed, dripping, on your lunch table? On your bed? Jesus H. Cholera, people! Things can go INTO the toilet, but nothing comes back out and touches all your stuff! Don’t put people’s shit in the toilet! Well, put their shit in there, but not their “shit” shit, shithead! Shit!
She called me in tears. If this is what they’re comfortable admitting, what else might be happening?