I woke up when the nurse knocked on the door. I sat up in bed with a start, peering around the room to get my bearings.  I discovered a huge wad of tissues in the clutch of my right hand.  I was heavily drugged the night prior, and so tired after not sleeping for three days.  While I was reorienting myself with reality, the bathroom door opened.

I never knew her name, so let’s just call her Rose.  She was approximately 80 & tiny, resembling a gnome.  Her wispy hair stood in all directions & she had the most innocent & inviting of  smiles.  She stood in the doorway in her nightgown, her two hands together hiding something.

She grinned at me & I smiled back.  ”Good morning”, I chirped.

Her eyes darted from side to side, but she still smiled.  ”I saw the sign on the wall, and I don’t know what to do”, she said, thrusting her hands forward.

“Do about what?”  But I had a sneaking suspicion.

“The sign says not to put anything in the toilet, so I fished it out & wrapped it in paper towels. Is that okay?”

“Fished what out?” I was cringing, waiting.

“MY POO!” she exclaimed.

I bit my lip, my brain still trying to shake off the fuzziness of the previous days’ events.  ”It’s totally fine”, I told Rose. “You can just throw it away. But what the sign means is that they don’t want you to throw anything ELSE in the toilet, like paper towels”.

“Ohhhhhhhh”, Rose giggled.

She threw out her business in the trash, and hobbled jauntily out the door & down the hall.

I just wondered what was going to come next.