“It’s a shame we don’t all have textbook genitalia,” I said to Mom’s nurse.
She was assisting Mom with a catheter and explaining to me how frequently nurses stick cathy in the wrong slot.
“It happens a lot,” she said. “In the diagrams, the holes are like this.” She raised her hand and vertically spread her index, middle, and ring fingers equidistant lengths apart. “But most women’s aren’t like that. They’re…unique.”
I considered how most women’s holey trinities might be unique but doesn’t that still leave the genital compass of first, second, and third (terd)?
The day before, Mom had had a seven-hour surgery to her nether regions and she came home the day after the nurse’s demonstration of textbook genitalia but had to go back because she started having complications. She’s staying in the hospital for at least four more days and Mom and Mom’s pain are on my brain non-stop. I developed a case of sympathy diarrhea and keep looking at pictures of her, my mom, not the diarrhea. I wish I could talk to Mom on the phone but it’s painful for her talk because of the tubes.
I love my mom. You probably love your mom, too, and think she’s beautiful but my mom actually is.
My mom taught me that women can be scientists and that smart women can be goofy and she also taught me to look both ways before jaywalking. I hope your mother taught you those things, too.