Our theme for the month of October is “flash nonfiction.” Writers were asked to submit pieces that were 250 words or less.
My mom and I sat on plastic chairs deep in the basement of the Cleveland Clinic. She kept time while I drank two bottles of contrast. Upon draining the last bottle, I felt an uncomfortable urge, and then panic. “I think I just pooped myself,” I whispered. Mom’s surprise matched my own, but I shuffled bravely to the nurses station where I explained to a kind nurse that I would need a pair of panties before my enterography. She quickly gathered a pack of wipes, a new pair of hospital pants, and a bulky adult diaper. I cleaned myself up in the bathroom before clumsily putting the diaper on.
I laid on my stomach in the scanner, and in the most humiliating moments of my young life, I actively pooped myself for forty-five minutes. At its worst, after they administered medication to halt the movement of my intestines, I was also fighting the urge to vomit. A nurse stood at my head, encouraging me to take slow breaths. While tears dripped to the end of my nose, I whispered an apology for the smell.
When it was over, my mom and a team of compassionate nurses helped me clean up and put a fresh diaper and gown on before sliding into a wheelchair. Their compassion in maintaining my dignity during those harsh moments is what stuck with me. It’s not a happy memory, but a lesson in the holiness of our smallness, and the gift of humble service when we are weakest.
Ansley Kelly (’16) makes her home in Rochester, NY, where she delights in short, sweet summers spent sailing and long winters spent skiing at her favorite mountain. Between outdoor adventures, you can find her buying books more quickly than she can read them and indulging in mid-morning naps. She works for Wegmans Food Markets where she finds purpose and joy in feeding her community and the wider world.
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You are the absolutely mast amazing young woman I have ever known. Not because you have suffered so, but because you move forward every single time from each challenge.
So many people would find the same strength. It’s what we do, playing the hand we’re dealt.
I’m so proud of you for sharing your story. I love you more and more as I know you.
Thanks so much Michele ❤️
Thanks for sharing and I am sorry you go through so much suffering with your illness. You are in my prayers
Wow, Ansley. The only word that comes to mind is harrowing. I’m thankful that you were surrounded by such lovely people.
Me too! Compassionate, skilled caregivers are an incredible gift.