Note to Self: Make Sure Doctor Washes Hands

Jack texted me a selfie

My nephew Jackson is a fast learner. He was in Grammy's hospice room for 8 seconds before he figures out there's a "Nourishment Center" down the hall featuring a fridge stocked with chemically-preserved snacks his mother has forbidden. In a flash, he's back with an orange jello cup. 

Jack walks in Grammy's door and instantly gets a random nose bleed. A real gusher. Blood all over his face, dripping on the floor. He sticks five fingers up his nose. It is not even moderately effective. Nonetheless, the kid maintains a vice grip on the jello.

We snap into action with nostril-sized wads of kleenexes. Luckily, there are lots of readily available kleenexes in a hospice facility. 

Eventually, the crisis dwindles to a trickle. Jack celebrates by jamming his entire bloody hand into the jello cup and shoveling a blob into his maw.

We all sit back on our heels and screech at the same time.

Uncle Tom says, "You are a sticky jello germ swab, Jack. Every microbe in this hospital is gonna be stuck on that hand if you don't wash it right now."

Jack spins to leave for the bathroom, but not before rubbing his hand on his pant leg and then a nearby table leg.

The doctor chooses that exact moment to march into Grammy's room. "Oh hello young man. I do not believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before!" He shoves out his hand for a shake.

It's a very sticky shake. There's a goo-snap sound when the doctor pulls his palm from Jack's slimy fingers.

We all screw up our lips into that face you make when something icky just happened.

We watch to see if the doctor washes his hands.

He does not. He walks out and visits the patient across the hall.


We all screw up our lips into that face you make when something icky just happened.