We were at the fitness center, parked in the lot and mom was sleeping.
“Mom, you want to go to the next state over?”
Back to sleep she went. And down the road I went.
Several hours later we arrived and naturally mom needed to use the bathroom. She really likes to go to McDonald’s as its familiar. I don’t like to go McDonalds because generally they have no automatic door openers.
I get mom out of the car and there’s a
cliff ledge on the supposed ramp. Mom hates bumps but we bump right over. Then the door. I am wrestling the door. Mom is in a bariatric wheelchair and it barely fits through doors. But as I’m trying to hold the door open and push her through (she can’t use the wheels or her fingers will get smashed) everyone watches on. The patrons watch. The McDonald’s Employee watch. They all watch my struggle with the door. Where are the men of old?!!
I take particular notice of the employee. She’s watching us and she doesn’t look…normal. She is kind of fidgeting as she watches. Finally I get her wrestled into the door and now to the bathroom.
“Mom, remember when I accidentally took you into the men’s bathroom?”
Then I opened up the handicap stall. I couldn’t believe it! It was tinier than most closets. I couldn’t get mom in the door without taking off her foot rests. I hate those foot rests. Finally I wrangle her in. Then wrangle her clothes in a suitable position.
As I’m trying to get mom angled towards the toilet with her on 1 foot as she is non weight bearing, I hear an employee run in to the only other stall. All of a sudden I hear massive wretching sounds.
BLeaadohoh. [Cough. Cough] Blaeauo. [Think those puking sounds Junior High kids like to make.]
“I’m so sorry you have to listen to this,” she calls to us.
She is clearly explosively vomiting. We don’t know whether to laugh or vomit ourselves.
“Are you OK?”
Mom finishes and I wrangle her out.
The employee comes out.
“Don’t go in there,” she says. “I’ll need to clean it up.”
I don’t doubt her words.
We’re washing our hands when she runs back in with air freshener or cleaner or something. All we hear if pfffft. Pfffft.
At this point mom and I are so grossed out we start to laugh. That inappropropriate laugh you can’t stop. We hit the dryer so it will make sound. It doesn’t work. I hit it a few more times.
“The other one,” mom squeezes out trying not to laugh.
Pfffft. Pffft. The woman continues to spray.
Finally we make it out.
And we made it OUT. No stopping for food there.
Ahhh. The bathroom adventures we have had. Didn’t even blog the one where she was so tangled in her seat belt I thought we would have to call 911. Sometimes the most random things make for some of the greatest memories.