Dots and Dashes by Dick Weinman, The Thin Edge of Dignity

DOTS AND DASHES by Dick Weinman, The Thin Edge of Dignity

 

Greg M. Cooper

Don’t just stand there!  I wanted to scream at the caregiver who stood above me in the bathroom.  I was sitting on the toilet trying to urinate. (I sit to urinate because of my disabilities.)

But I didn’t yell.   It takes longer for a man my age to pee:  larger prostate, blocked urethra, less stretchy bladder, harder vessels, and the usual wearing out of muscles and organs.  But, I figured somewhere in their training, caregivers would have learned the urinary patterns of old men.

When you’re in your eighties, you pee in Morse Code:  dribble, dribble, flow; dribble, dribble, dribble, flow;  flow (aaah!);  etc. etc. etc.

But, it’s hard to even produce the first dribble when someone is impatiently standing over you.  Do I strain while she’s standing there? Do I try to force conversation?  Do I just sit and pretend she’s not there? It’s awkward. I feel compelled to break the silence.  And, then. Saved by the bell!   Or, really, the first tinkle of a droplet striking water. So, I politely say, “I’ll be awhile. I’ll call when I’m done.” She leaves, and I let loose – if you can call it that.

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Dick Weinman lives in an Assisted Living Facility in Corvallis.