Oooooh That Smell - Side B

There are some records where the B side is better than the A side. Mike seems to think this is the case with my perspective on Ooooh That Smell. We'll see.

Another trip to another doctor wasn't really what I had wanted to do with my day but there was breakfast at Mr Ed's to look forward to and a good Italian roast beef sandwich at Uncle Frankie's in my future.

Breakfast at Ed's was, as we say on our canoe trips, sporks up! I had some breakfast skillet with hash browns, hunks of ham, sausage and bacon topped with over easy eggs covered in a luscious layer of hollandaise sauce - you got it - the mamma of all eggs Benedict! I ate most of it and Mike buzzarded up what I didn't eat. I was feeling pretty good and offered to drive with the caveat that I would not be interested in driving through the Lowery tunnel when we got to Minneapolis. We gassed up and were off to see the Wizard.

Ten miles down the road I thought I smelled something. An old car had just passed and I thought, "maybe?" I looked over and Mike had his nose down his shirt but didn't say anything. Again I caught a wiff of something. Mike sniffed down his shirt. One more time I sniffed and when Mike stuck his nose down the neck of his shirt I asked, "What are you doing?" (here's my sign)

Well his bag blew out. "What do you want me to do?" (again here's my sign) There was a gas station a mile back and I turned us around and pulled in. Mike grabbed his emergency bag and headed in. I pulled out my knitting, turned up MPR and waited. Knitting has been my best friend when it comes to waiting and this was no exception. Mike returned to the van visibly frustrated and borderline pissed off. I offered to listen if he wanted to vent - which he did but only for a short while.

As we drove I tried to ask a few questions to help problem solve but mostly listened to his frustration and paranoia at only having one bag left. I tried not to absorb any of his nervousness but I wasn't having any better luck than him. We made it to St Cloud, then Clearwater and onto I-94. I forgot about the blow-out and relaxed onto the Interstate. It was great to be on open road going fast. My only regret was that we were going east and not west and that we had a cooler and emergency blow-out kit not cooler and packs and we were heading for tall buildings instead of tall buttes. Still the driving was nice.

We found a radio station where we knew most of the words to most of the songs and started to sing. I made the decision to pull up my big girl panties and drive the Lowery tunnel. I began working on my head. This is where I was, deep in my head, when I thought I smelled something.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mike with his nose down his shirt collar and then it all broke loose.

It was the blow out of all blow outs. First Mike said, "We got a blow out!" I'm thinking the car is handling fine and look to find him with his shirt up under his chin and poo bulging at the edge of the very last sticky molecules of his ostomy bag's wafer. "Get me off this road!" he says and I take the very next exit. I don't even freaking know where we are but there is a gas station to the left. We wait for like a million years at the light. Long enough for Mike to string together every curse word he knows into a grammatically correct sentence. He's grabbing for paper towels to staunch the flow and I am asking what he wants me to do. (gimme that sign again please).

The light changes and we end up behind a Sub-Way in a strip mall. Mike piles out of the van and starts raping down right there. I don't say anything but I hope he doesn't take his pants off because we will be an arrest waiting to happen. He begins to issue orders: here warm up my paste (he tosses that at me) and this too (his new bag ends up in my lap) find more napkins or paper towels and tear them up into smaller squares (I think we are delivering a baby) I put the tube between my legs and stuff the wafer of the new bag into the front of my jeans.

I begin to tear the paper up when I notice...."Hey! It's pooping on you!" It...I call it IT and act like is some sort of new critter that isn't named and certainly isn't potty trained. Too late, Mike has poop on his cloths and now come more sentence enhancers. "God #$*&^ this @#&$& is a #($&"(#  #(*%&) (#*$*# pain in the #(*U%*$). I wish to %(^* that this )*)* would )**%&&&**!!!!!!! the @(&(()# up." He has come a long way. Nothing gets hit, kicked, punched or thrown and he's not yelling at the top of his lungs either. He is freezing however and he is now out of paper to clean up with. I look over and see the hospital suction canister liner, which we keep for emergency barfing since an episode with my girlfriend ended with puke in the speakers of our old car and this new van because the smell never did go away. I tell Mike to put that over his stoma and we will drive to the convenience store for supplies. He gets in and we drive to the store.

I park as far from the entrance as possible so as not to embarrass Mike or gross out the other customers. I head into the store. We are in Brooklyn Park, Mn which I now see by the other customers in the store is a primarily African American neighbor hood. I am the only white girl in the store and I am getting looks. I'm stressed. I can't find what I need and I am getting stared at. I want to yell, "Put YO f&*(ing eyes back in YO heads. What you never seen a white girl in YO hood before!" But I don't because I want to live.

I find the paper towels and some baby wipes and head to the counter. I'm still getting looked at by everyone except for the two black chicks at the counter who are up in each others faces wagging fingers and doing the, "Oh no you don't! Oh no you don't!" thing. I want to say take it to the street but again...I wanna live. I pay for the stuff and head to the door. A tall good looking black guy checks me out. Good for me on any other day than this (though I did look pretty good that day). When I push the door open with my body a hear a rustle and freeze. I have half of Mike's ostomy bag hanging out my pants. If I push it the rest of the way in right now I'm gonna get nabbed for shop lifting, if I leave it out it will be too cold for Mike to put on. I risk it and push it in. I don't give a rats rear end I'd love to take the nice officer over to the van to explain!

Back at the van I slide into my seat and look over at Mike who has found a new use for my "emergency stir sticks."  Side note here: I have a habit of keeping stir sticks from my coffee in the little cubbie below the radio. This is for when the kid at the drive through at Dunn Bros forgets to stir my cream and sugar into my coffee. Mike finds this most amusing in a very quirky sort of way and has spent a good deal of time teasing me about them......till now. Mike is using one of my stir sticks to try to scrape the last of his ostomy cement weld off his belly. I bite my lip. It will be funny later.

We drive back to the alley behind Sub-Way and Mike gets himself back in order. Now he's freaked out about not having any other bags and no clothes. I try to drop the sarcasm from my voice but I say anyway, "Forbes, we are in shopping central. I couldn't throw my credit card without hitting a clothing store! Clothes are not a big deal!" He smiles a little takes out the last of his frustration by bunching up his icky clothes and flinging them to the back of the van and jumps in. Well we don't have to worry about what to do with all the free time before Mike's appointment with Dr Madoff. We've just solved that.

I continue to drive. The Lowery tunnel doesn't seem like a big deal anymore and we drive right to the University without hesitation. Justine meets us in the lobby, we get in pretty much on time and leave with three extra ostomy bags thanks to LaTonya. Uncle Frankie's is closed so no Italian beef but Tony's Diner was open and we head there for $10 steaks and beer. We drop Justine off at her car, stop at Starbucks for coffee and are on our way home again around 6 pm. My coffee is hot and I don't pick it up to try it until we are past Brooklyn Park. I pull the stir stick, bring it back to my mouth to lick the coffee off, hesitate and throw it in the garbage. It's good to be going home.

Peace

Karen