Bit sick..... minor prude alert....
Mrs. Jones gets a call from the hospital. They tell her that
her husband's been in a terrible automobile accident. She
rushes to the hospital, runs into the ER and says her husband's
been in an accident. They tell her Dr. Smith is handling the
case. They page the doctor. He comes out into the waiting room
to see a terribly upset Mrs. Jones.
"Mrs. Jones?" the doctor asks.
"Yes, doctor, what's happened? How is my husband?"
The doctor sits next to her and says, "Not good news, I'm
afraid. Your husband's accident resulted in two fractures of
his spine."
"Oh my God!" says Mrs. Jones, "What is the prognosis?"
"Well, Mrs. Jones, the good news is his vital signs are stable.
However, his spine is inoperable. He'll have no motor skills
or capability. This means you will have to feed him."
Mrs. Jones begins to sob...
"And you'll have to turn him in his bed every two hours to
prevent pneumonia."
Mrs. Jones begins to wail and cry loudly...
"Then, of course," the doctor continued, "you'll have to diaper
him as he'll have no control over his bladder and, of course,
these diapers must be changed at least five times a day."
Mrs. Jones begins to shake as she cries, sobs, wails... The
doctor continues:
"And you'll have to clean up his feces on a regular basis,
as he'll have no control over his sphincters. His bowels will
engorge whenever and quite often, I'm afraid. Of course, you
must clean him immediately to avoid accumulation of the putrid
effluent he'll be emitting regularly."
Now Mrs. Jones is convulsing, sobbing uncontrollably and
beginning to wither off the bench into a sobbing pitiful mass.
Just then, Dr. Smith reaches out his hand, pats Mrs. Jones on
the shoulder, and says, "Hey, I'm just ****in' with you. He's dead."
