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Commotion in a McDonald's Bathroom

I could hear the footsteps running down the hall. 

“Is she OK?” “Did she fall?”

There’s a commotion outside the bathroom door.

It had been such a fun day. We went to see our daughter Stephanie’s college dance competition in Massachusetts.  It was about a five-hour trip from home. Her team did great. I left there like a peacock with feathers spread, so proud of her.

It was becoming cumbersome to make a trip like this. Although diagnosed with multiple sclerosis many years before, it was now rearing its ugly head. Walking had become quite difficult, and I began using a walker for work and a wheelchair for travel. And although I enjoy the car rides, “singing” (I mean screaming) the wrong lyrics to my favorite tunes and drumming the dashboard, I can’t say Hubby would use the word “enjoy” when describing the festivities. It was a long ride. My legs become numb on long car rides, so we’d have to stop every hour or so to stretch. We’d be watching the show from the bleachers, which don’t have side support — except for my hubby whose shoulders didn’t mind holding up his “drunk” wife. (MS people will know.)

Even so, off we went. It was so fun. No issues!

Now we were ready to begin our journey home. “How ‘bout we stop at McDonald’s before we hit the highway?” I said. Then we began our usual discussion about the bathroom. (I know, right?) Dirty? Crowded? Accessible? Always a surprise! Hubby will usually go in and scope it out before I make the trek. “This one is good,” he said. “Single stall, plenty of room, out of the way… you’ll be fine. I’ll wait outside the door for you.”

So here I am with just one little problem: the toilet doesn’t flush. I tug on the “flusher” cord many times with no luck. Oh, well.

Footsteps. Commotion. “Did she fall?” “Is she OK?

My husband knocks on the door at the same time I open it. I’m greeted by a frazzled restaurant manager carrying a large first-aid kit, her assistant, and my husband.  “Are you OK?” “Are you hurt?” Did you fall?” “You pulled the emergency cord so many times we didn’t know what to think.” Emergency cord?… Oops!

Only me. So embarrassing! I scared that poor manager and everyone else in the restaurant half to death. My husband wisely chose to put me in the car before ordering food.  “Cheeseburger, please.”

Getty image by X6tenCE.