Pull This

Thursday, I accompanied "my" client to his oncologist and chemo appointments.  This time, things were not so happy and bright and fun; in fact, it was down right depressing.  He was in an appropriately angry, dark funk, the chemo lab was relatively empty, I was having a pity-party of my own (in no relation to the situation at hand) and he was having a new type of chemo that took over six hours....six hours!  That's not including lab work and doctor time. Six hours is a long time to sit in a chair and get chemicals pumped into your veins.  Of course, six hours in a chemo lab cured my pity party--I've got nothing to whine about, as evidenced by  staring into the faces of people who really have reason to have a pity party should they choose.

I didn't see any of them having a pity party, so I knocked it right off.

The client was sound asleep and I had to pee.  I decided it would be okay to use the chemo lab's toilet; after all, I'd seen other people go in there and there weren't a lot of people around, anyways.  It was a very large bathroom, a private room, not stalls--a one seater with a locking door.  You know, a regular bathroom.  So, I'm doing my thing, toilet paper properly placed on the toilet seat as taught by my mother, peeing as I needed to pee....I reach for the toilet paper.....

....and accidentally grab the emergency call cord and set off the bathroom call alarm.

Dear god, I was MORTIFIED!

Pants at my ankles, no time to wipe, I lunged for the door, terrified a nurse would burst in to save me from certain doom.  Because it was a large bathroom, I had to take a few pants-on-the-ground bursts to get to the door.  I opened it part way and yelled, "I'm okay!"  The nurse was already at the door....a nurse I know, of course....and, she starts laughing.  

"Will you PLEASE push the cancel button?"  I turned and looked.  Dang, that master's degree of mine didn't go very far--I never saw the cancel button, right by the pull cord.

I pushed the cancel button and finished my business.  Trust me when I say I didn't want to come out of that bathroom.  There was no hiding, though--the bathroom is located for all to see.

Note to self: Remember there is probably a cancel button near panic buttons.

Thankfully, none of the patients seemed to notice, as there really were few people there and no one was near the bathroom.  I took my walk of shame back toward my chair, thankful "my" client was still sound asleep.  The nurse, still laughing, said, "I wasn't going to come in! I would have just knocked and asked if you were okay." I nodded and admitted to being quite mortified.  "You didn't have to answer the door!"  We laughed about me and my mid-pee scramble to keep her from bursting in.

She then said, "wait 'til I tell my sister!"

Oh dear god!

I happen to be long-time friends with the nurse's sister, so I knew she would follow through and that my ankle-pants-emergency-alarm-pee would be the talk of the town.  Or, at least within our circle of friends.

Although I was embarrassed, I was cured of all that ailed me.  I chuckled as I thought "Every cloud has a silver lining."

Some even come with emergency pull cords.