Taking Ma Schmidt to the potty

Mid-afternoon, Ma Schmidt was sound asleep. Schmidt went back up to the shop to get some more work done on this job that's so late. Five minutes later she woke up and needed to go to the bathroom. She couldn't figure out how to wipe herself any more (this is another change from a month ago) so I tried to help. Of course most of the wiping was shit that was sticking to her. (Almost none of it actually came loose to fall into the pot.) Schmidt has a technique, but I don't know it. So I improvised (while she complained long and loud) and then I walked her back to bed to finish the job. (Schmidt does that too.)

Once she was back in bed I found I had a technique that worked perfectly well: I grabbed her ankles and hoisted her exactly the way I would hoist a baby whose diaper I was changing. I think this caused her a lot of serious discomfort, probably even pain. (At least, she complained.) I don't know if she was conscious of the indignity, because I'm no longer sure what she is conscious of; but if so there was quite a lot of indignity—in spades!—as well. 

If any of you is wondering how old age affects the private parts, I can tell you this much. She still had pubic hair: it wasn't thick, but there was enough that I had to clean off any waste that had gotten stuck or smeared in it. Also, the one glimpse I got inside her showed skin that was still smooth, pink, and glistening. 

Finally I got her cleaned up, or mostly. Then I got new underwear on her (in reality it was just a diaper for adults), and a new pad underneath her. I picked up all the soiled wipes I'd used. (Quite a lot of them!) I wrapped all that up into a bundle so that I could ask Schmidt how he wanted to handle it. (When he finally got back, he burned it in the fireplace. Apparently shit burns. Who knew?) 

Ma was really unhappy. But Schmidt had given her an anti-anxiety pill before he'd gone back to the shop; so despite the pain and indignity, she soon fell back asleep.