In 1984, I was in the hospital after being critically injured in an accident. I received only one enema, a Fleet, given at 6 the morning by a grumpy nurse to prep me for surgery. I was in pain and hated that experience. I was 22 at the time.
Luckily, a nurse assigned to provide follow up care while I was recovering at home recognized the effects of the pain meds I was taking. I was pretty naïve about such matters and shy to admit that I was backed up. I still remember her saying with frustration, “Why didn’t they take care of that before you were discharged?”
Long story short, she started me on an oral regimen of laxatives (through a straw, I had extensive facial and oral surgery) to help get me regular and contacted my doctor to get an order for a cleansing enema, something she said they should’ve given me in the hospital.
This was the home health nurse, Angie, who I have written about so lovingly — so much more than the enemas she gave — she was a godsend who with my husband helped put my life back together emotionally after the accident. I think about her during Christmas especially, and I miss her. I am the godmother to her first child, now in her 40s (that can't be!). 21 years ago, Angie was killed by a drunk driver. Friends, if you are drinking during the holidays, PLEASE don't drive!