Warning: Due to the graphic nature of this post, reader discretion is advised.
The small reunion of friends and former teaching colleagues at the waterfront Chevys was by all accounts a fabulous time. Throughout the course of the evening, spirits were swilled and entrees were consumed. Even the Adventurous ALS Boy managed to make it through dinner without a single newsworthy choking incident.
Sitting on the pot at home later that night resulted in more of the same nothing from earlier that morning. Two days without dropping a deuce had become a rarity of late since the introduction of my breakfast fiber gummies. I abandoned the process of excavating my bowels in favor of the more leisurely activity of viewing the Wendy Williams Show.
My being tired was the most likely reason why the black CoQ10 refused to dislodge itself from my esophagus a few moments later. Several attempts were made at plunging the nozzle of our suction machine down my throat in an all-out effort to gag me but it was all for naught. I went to bed with the unpleasant taste of pills on my tongue.
Shortly after 2:30 in the morning I grunted Fehmeen awake because I could sense that something had run afoul during my slumber. What could have caused the foul-smelling dampness on my shirt, boxers and bedsheets? Had I peed, pooed, barfed or worse? What the H, E, double hockey sticks was going on?
Once the lights were illuminated and my wet t-shirt was peeled off of my sticky stomach, it became patently obvious exactly what had transpired. Or one could just take a hearty whiff of the air in my personal vicinity now that the covers had been removed. The small plastic cap on my feeding tube had somehow come undone and for an indeterminate length of time the contents of what used to be in my stomach was now spreading its orange-yellow oozing bile nastiness as far as the sleepy eye could see. Simply stated, I threw up out of my tube.
With three people working in concert, the cleanup effort was surprisingly quick and efficient. And throughout all the hustle and bustle of our late night shenanigans, there was one little person under our roof who slept through the whole ordeal: Emma.
The Adventures of ALS Boy 