It was a slow moving day, both digestively and otherwise. In spite of it being beautiful out, the flight surgeon at Mission control noticed some irregularities in our astronaut’s bowels. Burt was grounded and his planned activities, both his therapy and his tour outside, were overtaken by events. Turns out his stomach pains were not because of the pincushion effect, but a bit too much of the feed tube.
The nurse said we would have to play the day by ear, to which Burt corrected, "Wrong end, we will have to play it by bowel." Seconding Burt’s opinion, his former roommate John commiserated, “The worst part of this process, for a man, is the bedpan. Some young kid, wiping your fanny… leave it for the birds.”
Between eating some of his wife’s delicious oatmeal, chocolate and raisin cookies, Burt’s doctors spent the day ruling out possible causes for his stomach discomfort. Their hunch is that Burt is simply backed up and they are using several methods to resolve this problem. When they asked for his opinion, he replied, "you don't need my input, you need my output."
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