Being in rehab brings no end of embarrassments. Most mornings the aide would come and give you a sponge bath you weren't scheduled for a shower, and this was most mornings. During one of these with enough embarrassment to go with it. One day, fairly early on, the aide noticed a sore. Of course, this bed sore would be on my bottom. She did her duty and reported it. Next thing I know, two women come to my bed. One is the bed sore expert and the other the day nurse for our area. One or the other informs me I have a sore and orders we to roll over so they can take a look at it. This means they pull down my diaper and stand there gawking at my bare backside. Finally, with a nod from the nurse, the sore expert treats it. She scatters some kind of ointment on the site and then plasters down a bandage pad.
Every day thereafter, the sore expert comes by to inspect. Very often she has another young woman along. She takes iff the old bandage, puts on some more gook and bandages every time. This continued most of my remaining stay, in that course different women and an occasional guy would come to view my butt.
I suggested we put a picture of it in a billboard for all to enjoy. My wife thought we should mount a picture over the mantle of our fireplace. Maybe I could autograph the photo. Larry's now world famous rear end!
Because of this fissures' location I was the only one who couldn't see it.
Finally, eureka, during my last week, they declared the sore healed. I expected a fanfare and applauding crown of my backside fans.
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