A humorous look at a little operation that went wrong.
My Foley and Me
One night stay, simple and quick,
over before ya know it, just that slick.
Ha! What a crock
I wake up with bowels hard as a rock!
The Foley's inserted, IV in place,
going home tomorrow is my saving grace.
My sleep's interrupted but goes fairly well;
then nurses file in to put me through Hell.
They rip out the Foley, the IV is gone,
send me to pee and leave me alone.
I stood and faltered,
equilibrium is altered.
My head is spinning, I'm turning green
I grab a bucket and upchuck my spleen.
Finally I've made it to the white throne.
I sit and I ponder... all alone.
But, what is this?....My bladder resists.
The nurse comes in and she insists.
The threat of the Foley is real.
The nurse just smiles.
What a deal!
So...It's my Foley and me,
though not with glee.
Still, I go to work and I play.
Yeah, I'm gonna do it my way.
I'll show them a thing or two,
and on Monday bid my Foley ado!
Alas, Monday comes and Foley has won.
I can barely walk, let alone run.
With the rubbing, and pinching,
stabbing and wrenching,
in the name of all things Holy,
dear God, I hate this Foley.
By Wednesday I will be fine.
I'll walk in and pee on a dime.
Wednesday comes and it's not to be,
Dang it anyway, I still can't pee.
Doc says, “you've done too much,
working and running with kids and such.”
Fate is not on my side;
a week at home to abide.
I go home and sit
and don't throw a fit.
No work, no play,
feet up all day.
“The bladder needs training.
do schedule rearranging.”
So... here am I
as days drag by.
I'll prop up my feet, I read and pout.
Get lots of sleep and come Tuesday
this damn Foley's out!!