Laughter, the best medicine

The conversation in Tillie’s apartment began somewhat like this:

Nora said that her daughter Anne had been over to visit and that she said she had a urine infection and the medicine the doctor gave her made her sick to her stomach. Then Nora said to Tillie, “Have you ever had one and do you know how to get over one?”

Present also, sitting beside Nora on Tillie’s big plush velour couch was the new woman, Wilma, who was very nice and sweet.

Tillie said, “Yes, I’ve had one and I do know how to get over one. But you won’t like it.”

“How do you?” Nora asked.

“Warm urine,” Tillie said.

“Oh, yuck!” Nora exclaimed, as did Wilma. They laughed slightly horrifiedly.

Tillie nodded her head adamantly. “Anne should try it.”

“Ewww, no,” Nora said. “She’d freak out if I told her that.”

“It works,” Tillie said. “But it has to be warm.”

“Well, it is warm when it comes out. But who would ever do that?” She grimaced.

”My mother and grandmother did and it worked,” Tillie said.

By this time Nora and Wilma were rather convulsing. “You mean you drink it?” Nora asked.

“Noooo!” Tillie scowled. “You don’t drink it. You shoot it in your ear with a medicine dropper.”

Nora and Wilma practically exploded with the kind of laughter women laugh at the unspeakable.

“In your ear!” Nora repeated. “What does that have to do with down here,” and she indicated her nether region. Wilma, who was rather a roly-poly, was chortling so she was about to roll off the couch like a ball-bug.

Tillie frowned and said, “What are we talking about?!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about an ear infection.”

“’Urine infection,’ I said!”

“Oh--!” Tillie said. “I thought you said ‘ear—‘”

Nora and Wilma wiped their eyes. “It’s still gross,” Nora said. “Oh, I can hardly wait to tell Sara. And everyone else. I am going to get some mileage out of this story. How come you don’t wear your danged hearing aids?”

At this point Tillie’s doorbell rang. It was Small Betty going around with fresh-made tamales to give to people. Nora accepted a plastic baggy of them even though when someone brought them before to the Twilight Zone she hadn’t particularly liked them because they were too strong for her Gringo palate. But she’d frittered away her time in Tillie’s place and hadn’t anything for dinner. Maybe if she smothered them with salsa and sour cream they’d taste better.

Bette was also delivering some upstairs so they rode up in the elevator together and met Vera on the third floor.

Nora began, “I was telling Tillie about my daughter having a…”

Ah, laughter. It smoothes all wrinkles, soothes all ills, heals all ruptures.