Mr. Jones gets a call from the hospital. They tell him
his wife's been in a terrible car accident. He rushes
to the hospital, runs in to the ER. They tell him
Dr. Smith is handling the case. They page the doctor.
He comes out to the waiting room to see a terribly
upset Mr. Jones.
"Mr. Jones?" the doctor asks. "Yes sir, what's
happened? How is my wife?"
The doctor sits next to him and says, "Not good news.
Your wife's accident resulted in two fractures of her
spine."
"Oh my God" says Mr. Jones, "what is her prognosis?"
"Well, Mr. Jones, her vital signs are stable. However,
her spine is inoperable. She'll have no motor skills or
capability. This means you will have to feed her."
Mr. Jones begins to sob. "And you'll have to turn her
in her bed every two hours to prevent pneumonia."
Mr. Jones begins to wail and cry loudly. "Then, of
course," the doctor continued, "you'll have to diaper
her as she'll have no control over her bladder and of
course these diapers must be changed at least five
times a day."
Mr. Jones begins to shake as he cries, sobs, wails.
The doctor continues: "And you'll have to clean up
her feces on a regular basis as she'll have no
control over her sphincter. Her bowel will evacuate
whenever and quite often, I'm afraid. Of course you
must clean her immediately to avoid accumulation of
the putrid effluent she'll be emitting regularly."
Now Mr. Jones is convulsing, sobbing uncontrollably
and beginning to wither off the bench into a sobbing
pitiful mass. Just then, Dr. Smith reaches out his
hand and pats Mr. Jones on the back and says..."Hey,
I'm just fuking with you. It'll be ok..she's dead."
[This message was edited by Uncle Butternutts on 08-13-02 at 07:31 PM.]