The Toilets of Oconee

So without doubt you've heard or read Courtney's account of our trip down to Clemson and the scare with the cramping/bleeding. Yes, I was scared, no I didn't check game scores from inside the RV, and yes we have some great friends who were very good to us during a difficult situation.

But, the rest of the story must be told, for that's why you're reading THIS blog! First, here we are! Second row up from the "BI" in Bi-Lo. right behind the kid in the white t-shirt.

I'm in the second row of stands, at halftime, enjoying CJ Spiller say something completely incomprehensible (this kid is on the Dean's list? no way he can read..) about the ACC Championship he wants to win. Okay, I'm really enjoying the Rally Cats... 31 seconds until the second half starts.

I get a text from Courtney. It says "Bad News..."I feel similar to when a doc calls me in the middle of an operation and says "XYZ is broken, come in here and fix it before the patient wakes up." Except this is much more powerful, because I actually care. I take 2 seconds to make a plan. I realize I did not bring a doctor, so I have no plan. I am then Carl Lewis sprinting. I jump over our friends without excusing myself. I am Jim Brown, splitting Coach Gaudio's wife and daughter like I'm going through a defensive line (sorry, folks) and running halfway around the coliseum to find her... crying. This isn't new, she's a cry machine. I say let if flow.

I'm a do-er. So, we hustle her over to a nurse, and they summon an ambulance. While we wait they take a bit of a history. You know what a history is, right? Name, age, symptoms, what did you eat today, has this been happening lately, astrological sign, who did you vote for, etc... She gives all the answers. I'm taking mental notes, and thinking "this isn't good news, please let her be confused." I stay quiet and do lots of arm and head rubbing. I am petting. I stop petting because that's probably annoying. I tell her it's going to be okay. I know I'm going to be okay no matter what. I don't know about her. I lie and say she will. The ambulance shows up and we take a short ride to Oconee Medical Center, the hospital in Seneca. I have no idea where any of this is, we're in the sticks...

Anyhow, I get her registered and then they tell me what ER room she's in. I just go back there like I own the place... but there's no Courtney in there. I give a quick knock and step in room 16, taking mental note that 16 is my lucky number. NOT TODAY. Where is she? AND WHAT IS THAT GOD AWFUL SMELL? I call her name thinking there's no way they put her in a room with a rotting corpse. She's in the room next door. Whew, let me out of here.. I go through the door, and everything becomes clear. Or should I say tears came to my eyes? It some how, some way, smells worse in there. In the history, it dawns on me they never asked "when did you last go #2."

So yes... we drove 4 hours, shopped at an outlet mall, bought her new black shoes, ate a crappy lunch at said outlet mall, sat through half a Clemson basketball game in the best seats known to man, then took a 15 minute ambulance ride... so my wife could take a massive Pericolace induced dookie in the Oconee hospital ER restroom. Two movement later (sort of like a symphony orchestra, yes) problem solved. We got an ultrasound to confirm "I gotta poo" cramps feel just like "I gotta problem" cramps. Hey, it's all about the journey.

I love my wife (who will be increasing her fiber intake), my unborn child who looks a bit like those Grateful Dead dancing bears, and my friends who went pretty far out of their way to make sure we were okay and taken care of.

Go Deacs!