turd burglar

those of you who have been sheltered from the joys of aged and psychiatric care may think my stories are fictitious.

apart from changing names I have no need to embellish. our patients are always doing the craziest things, mostly involving bodily fluids, throwing objects, falling over or absconding.

back at work after a four day hiatus I find a complaint form under my door. “someone has defaecated in the sink in the ladies toilet next to the hall.”

this was of course penned by Miss S., a patient who is mostly sane apart from the delusion that she is in charge in my absence. she conducts building inspections every evening and is forever locking doors that should be open and extinguishing lights that should be left on.

turds are not allowed to reside in sinks even at the Gimcrack but with no cleaners working over Easter our lazy  usually diligent care staff are apt to ignore these things when not under direct supervision.

so the D.O.N and I glove up to check out the toilets and find the turd still there in all its stinking glory, just slightly ossified around the edges. it’s humungous, the biggest example I’ve ever seen. the D.O.N. states with conviction that nothing this size could have been evacuated via a female. I think I slept through the lecture on turd identification so we call for another opinion.

the C.N.C. is not so sure. “don’t females have larger bowels than males?”

“is that relevant? aren’t we talking exit size here?” I counter.

“men eat more” says the D.O.N. “their movements are larger because they have more to eliminate.”

“they eat more? all of them?” I compare a couple of testicled featherweights to several two-tonne Tessies we have in the morbidly obese ward. that theory goes out the window.

we all jump as the door is flung open. it’s Duc L’Orange in a very fetching nylon frock with a blue kerchief fastened around her neck. “I need the toilet” she says as we hastily scoop up the lodger and squirt a gallon of anti-bacterial foam at the vacated sink.

for those of you too lazy to read the link, Duc is a 6 foot, 100 kg transgendered patient whose expressions of femininity mean she always wears a frock, occasionally shaves her beard and insists on being addressed as Miss. she takes no breast enhancing hormones and usually accessorises with gray socks, black lace ups and very hairy legs. her style could best be described as an ageing overweight Baden-Powell attending a fancy dress party.

she’s also a big eater and I’ve been in the unfortunate position of assisting the doctor when Duc thought she may have accidently sat on a size D battery. she hadn’t, but the memory of my brief glimpse at the cavern it could have slipped into tells me we’ve found our culprit.