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

Ansley Kelly (’16) is an enthusiastic Wegmans employee and joyful graduate student in Buffalo, NY. She is committed to developing her leadership competence in service to others and believes that diligent leadership is an act of love. In recent years, she has wrestled through the thickets of chronic illness to find hope and peace in her deepening faith. When she’s feeling well, she enjoys sailing and skiing. When she’s not, she enjoys reading whatever’s close and taking mid-morning naps.