I was sitting outside the other day with a friend during lunch when my ventilator tube popped off. My friend knew something was wrong because I suddenly wasn’t able to speak and, not noticing the disconnected tube, ran to get my nurse. I can breathe fairly well on my own, so I wasn’t too concerned. Another friend of mine happens by while my friend is away and starts making conversation. Since I’m not able to speak, all I can do is nod my head and move my eyebrows in what I hope is an engaged and active manner. She soon also realized that something was wrong. And the whole time she was trying to talk to me, my biggest worry was that she must think I’m incredibly rude for not saying anything.
I have a feeling that, even when I’m on my deathbed, I’ll be preoccupied with the worry that I’m going to leave behind a mess for someone to clean up.
I understand so well how you must have felt , because my dentist always tries to make me answer her questions while I can’t but hold my mouth wide open while she is using those tiny drills on my teeth.
A bit embarrassing indeed…
I hope I leave behind a mess. I like making messes. 🙂
Sort of reminds me of times when I’m nearly in a terrible car accident and glad it didn’t happen because it would have ruined my shirt or damaged something that I was transporting somewhere.
I can just imagine having some terrible physical trauma in a car accident and pleading with the paramedics not to cut my shirt off because it was a birthday gift or something.