Date: 31 Mar 25
Subject: (Continuation of: "A Few Good Men." Marc...

(Continuation of: "A Few Good Men." March 31, 2025)

It wasn't until years later, at another camp, that I would have the opportunity to cross paths with another one of the "Few Good Men."

Once again the infirmary scene was brought about by one of my epileptic seizures, occurring out on the sidewalk shorty after dinner. However, the form of seizure I experienced this time required that a much different mission be carried out. Unlike the seizure I described to you back in the county jail, where I woke up all bloody with a knot on my forehead, this seizure occurred in a more open area and was more neuromuscular related -- involving more massive muscle spasms. Hence, the outside of my body hadn't suffered much damage, but my inside was in agony. All my muscles and joints were sore, and I had a splitting headache.

I didn't wake up in the infirmary until around 8:30 PM. After accepting the fact that all I could move were my eyelids, I studied my surroundings. The usual layout of hospital beds on both side walls, and the sight of a T.V. against the back wall were both a common find. However, in this case the T.V. was on, and there were five fellow prisoner patients sitting around watching it. From what was on the screen, I was able to decipher the time, and calculate that I must have been lying there for about three hours. The opening of my eyes went unnoticed by my neighbors, whose full attention was on the television. I was in no mood to start using any of my muscles. So without moving an inch, I let my eyes close, and fell back to sleep.

Somewhere around 11:30 PM, I was awakened by a fellow inmate -- the medical orderly. (M.O.)

M.O.: (Said in a whispered tone of voice.). Okay, look. I waited until everyone else fell asleep. The way you won't have an audience. Behind that door is the bathroom, where you can take a shower. I've already got a pair of pants and boxers in your size on the counter. After taking off the ones you're wearing, put them in the plastic bag just inside the door, tie the bag shut, and leave it on the floor. While you're in there, I'll get your sheets changed.

While he was giving me all the information, I was lying there wondering why he thought it was so important that I take a shower in the first place. I mean, certainly we've all experienced situations where we've had to go a day or two without taking a shower. What was his problem?

Me: Huh? What are you talking about? Just leave me alone.

M.O.: Man, you need to get yourself cleaned up. Take a look, you messed yourself. (Messed yourself: The process of voiding feces from the bowels without first removing your pants and underwear.)

Naturally, my first instinct was to explain to him that he was nuts, and had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. However, the odds were in his favor. First, HE -- unlike ME -- was more than like in a conscious state of mind when they brought me to the medical department, and could have somehow come across some evidence of such an occurrence. Second, it is a well-known fact that during a seizure an individual can lose control of their pelvic muscles, hence, allowing such a mishap to take place. And thirdly, this M.O. had really gone quite a bit out of his way for all of this to be nothing more than a practical joke. So with all the evidence in his favor, I was willing to take his word at it. Also, I was not about to try to prove him wrong by sticking my white finger down my pants and taking the chance of it coming back brown.

I slowly eased my sore body from the bed, and with the help of the M.O. stood to my feet. I fully expected to feel some form of unloading begin oozing down my legs. However, as I staggered to the bathroom, past my still-asleep neighbors, everything seemed to stay in place. It dawned on me that the six hours of lying in bed motionless after the seizure had probably allowed the discharge to solidify in its. . . out-of-the-anus location. I'll admit that may seem like a rather gross conclusion. However, I think it would have sounded and felt even more disgusting if I had had to share with you the experience of the contents making its way down my legs en route to the bathroom.

As I entered the bathroom, I noticed everything was laid out just as the M.O. had said. I stepped over by the shower, planted my thumbs between my waist and the elastic waistbands of my boxers and pants, and then:

Me: (whispering very loudly.) Holy $#!+ ! (Obviously my first words after seeing the contents in the crotch of my boxers.)

Wow! This was definitely not a practical joke. For all you parents out there, imagine openings your baby's diaper, and then multiply that times ten. Thank God I didn't wake up shortly after the seizure occurred and try to walk anywhere. In all honesty, I'm really not in the mood to share with you the details of my. . . sanitation-overhaul. So I'm just going to omit that section of the story.

As I exited the bathroom, my eyes longed for the still-asleep appearance of my infirmary neighbors -- whew! As I limped toward my bed, the M.O. was nowhere in sight, whereas my freshly made bed was a much welcomed sight. Then, after getting myself settled in my much cleaner surroundings, I dozed back off with a feeling of gratitude that I hadn't been made a spectacle of.

(Come back next week for an example that's a bit different, due to the fact that it involves a couple of "Good Men" who qualified for the title because of what they. . . DIDN'T DO!)