Not much time had passed when I heard Clara yell, “Michele” at the top of her lungs. I scurried over as quickly as I could to hear the announcement, “I need to go to the toilet and I need you to get me up.” Clara provided little assistance as I literally put my arms around her and picked her up. I escorted her to the bathroom and she asked me to pull her pants and underwear down. It seemed like each task was getting worse. I puttered around her apartment, doing some light dusting waiting for her to finish in the bathroom so I could help her back to her sofa. When I heard her call my name, I wasn’t alarmed, until I found her still sitting on the toilet. I guess I didn’t have a clue at this point because I asked her if she needed something, i.e. toilet paper etc. She said, “I can’t reach, I need you to wipe my butt.” Okay, there weren’t any lessons for this one! My voice said, “Sure, no problem” but my head said, ‘Gross, it stinks in here and that is disgusting.’ I tried to imagine back to when my sons were very young and I was on butt wiping detail but as I leaned over Clara to wipe her, I thought for sure I was going to vomit. Old lady poop is nothing like I remember a three year olds poop smelling. I finished or so I thought, when Clara said, “Wipe it again.” This time I kept chanting in my head, ‘You can wash you hands in a minute, that’s what soap is for;’ over and over. I flushed the toilet still feeling ready to hurl, washed my own hands, then helped Clara up and pulled her panties and pants back up, and got her back to the sofa. She then asked what I was going to serve for lunch. Food was not foremost on my mind, but the bathroom incident was over and it was time to get back to the day and lunch was just a couple of hours away. Up to this day, I would typically eat two meals a day, but now I found myself thinking about food all of the time, planning Clara’s diabetic meals and dinner for my own family. Before long I was eating three meals a day, and gained ten pounds the first month.
I can’t tell you how many evenings were thrashed by my FIL having an incontinence incident and my poor husband having to deal with it. The WHOLE HOUSE would reek. It was awful, especially when I was pregnant. Later, I was frightened because his hygiene was dubious at best and my small children were exposed to it. We constantly reminded him to wash, but there’s no telling how well he adhered to this.
It sure sounds like your MIL had no qualms about making sure she got taken care of. I’m sorry, it sounds awfully pushy! I’m really hoping she didn’t try to hold it…
It was worse on the few occasion when she tried to clean herself up, with her limited sight. UGH, the memories! I get the hygiene part completely, just hoping I’m not at 60 what my MIL was like at 80.
Oh I dread the day I have to do that! Just my 92 year old grandpa’s urine makes me gag! And his GAS even makes the dog’s eyes water!! luckily he’s still able to do this task on his own!
I’m sorry to say, but your comment cracked me up! I am glad your problems are contained to the front end and not the back end, sure hope it stays that way!