|
|
|
Morning Sun
  • OKIE IN EXILE: Bubba goes to the hospital

  • The other day I called my old friend Bubba back home.



    “Hello,” he said on the other end, but then he continued talking to someone on his end. “So what are you doing?”



    What I heard in reply to his question was a distinctly feminine voice:

    • email print
  • The other day I called my old friend Bubba back home.
    “Hello,” he said on the other end, but then he continued talking to someone on his end. “So what are you doing?”
    What I heard in reply to his question was a distinctly feminine voice:
    “It’s got to come out.”
    Then I heard Bubba talk directly to me.
    “I’ll call you back,” he said.  Right before he pushed the off button he said, “Can’t we talk about this?”
    As you might imagine, this made me quite anxious and much more so because he didn’t call back for a day or so.
    “So what’s been going on?” I asked when he finally did call back.
    “I’ve been in the hospital.”
    “Hospital?” I asked.  It always scares me when I hear that about a friend my age.  My mind always asks cancer? Heart-attack?  With my mouth I try to be more subdued. “So why are you in the hospital?”
    “Operation,” he said.  Before I could ask the next question, he added,“Female trouble.”
    While this might be confusing to some, I understood his answer perfectly. Bubba believes in theoretical equality between the sexes, i.e. only in theory.  When a woman gives this answer, a man will stop asking questions.  I understood I was to do the same.
    “So,” I chose my words carefully, “how did it go?”
    “Oh,” he said, “it went right well enough.  You know how it is in the hospital.  As you go in, they start putting things on you. They put on your name tag; then they put in an IV; then they put that oxygen mask on you; then they put you out.
    “Once they have you out, then they can do any con-sarn thing they want to do to you.”
    I thought I would pause here to say that Bubba did actually use the phrase con-sarn as opposed to its blasphemous equivalent.   This leads me to believe his experience has had some effect on him.
    “So what did they do to you while you were out?” I asked.
    “Well,” he replied, “they put a thing in my arm that took my blood pressure from an artery.  And they put in a catheter.”
    “A catheter?” I echoed; I may have reflexively sucked-in air through my teeth when I heard this.  The prospect of getting a catheter has always been a horror for me ever since my uncle got one after his prostate operation. It’s like digging a tunnel through some precious territory.
    “Yep,” he said. “A catheter.  At least I was asleep when it went in.
    Page 2 of 2 - And it wasn’t so bad.  After you’ve had an operation you don’t really feel like getting up to take a pee and going in one of those bottles brings back too many memories of going on long car trips with the milk jug in the back for a bathroom.”
    “So are you still in the hospital,” I asked.
    “Nope, I am back home now,” he said. “You know leaving is right the opposite of going in. They start taking things off.  The took off that artery blood pressure thing first.  And then they took out the catheter.”
    “Ssss,” I did hiss this time. “How was that?”
    “Well,” he said, “I tried to prepare myself for it way flirting with all of the nurses on my floor, and that wasn’t hard to do because they were all so cute, you know, with those scrubs they wear.  I mean if a fellow didn’t...”
    “Okay, I got the picture,” I said with hopes of heading off any graphic descriptions.
    “Anyway,” Bubba continued, “I wanted them on my side when the thing came out, but I figure I didn’t flirt with all of them the same.
    There was one that I thought of as Nurse Brawny that maybe I didn’t flirt with enough--or maybe I flirted with the cute ones too much.
    Anyway, she was the one who took it out.”
    “She didn’t hurt you did she?”  It would be a serious thing if she had.
    “No,” Bubba said, “but she said the next time they put in one on me that it would be square.”
    With that, we said good-bye.
    Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, is Assistant Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences and Professor of Mathematics at Pittsburg State University.  He blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com.
      • calendar