Potty-mouth

A little over a year and a half ago I had to go into the hospital for the month of December to start my treatments for Leukemia.  It was not a fun month.  At the time I was told I had a 50/50 chance of surviving the next six months of treatments.  While I didn’t dwell on it at the time, it has recently occurred to me that it was basically a coin flip whether or not I would make it.

Obviously I did make it, and that first month of treatments was made light years better by my little sister Santina coming out and spending about a week with me and Nancy.  I say “little” when I should probably say “younger,” but no matter how old we both get she will always be my little sister.

My hospital room in the oncology ward was several stories up and I had a window looking out on the construction site of the new wing they were adding to the hospital.  Right away Nancy and Santina noticed there was a row of rainbow colored port-a-potties at the side of the construction site.

Every day we all had endless laughs over the stories Nancy and Santina made up for the workers using the port-a-potties.  Sometimes a worker would go down the row opening each door to inspect the situation before he entered.  Other workers would carry a newspaper in with them.  And yet others seemed intent on selecting a particular colored john.  It went on and on.  I never knew how creative Santina and Nancy could be with their story telling, but they kept us in stitches – bad pun for a hospital stay!

To this day I can’t drive past a construction site with port-a-potties without cracking up.

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