Molasses and Milk

It’s my fourth semester of nursing school, and one of the patients I’m assigned, “Is an asshole and won’t let you do your job,” per the off-going shift report. I am not intimidated by this. Assholes and I often understand each other. 

We go into his room to let him know that the night shift is leaving, and I’m a student and will be taking care of him. He is an angry man. He tells me he doesn’t want any meds. I tell him no problem, he doesn’t have to take any. All I need to do is explain why the doctor prescribed them so I can chart that the risks and benefits of taking and refusing each med is understood.  

He said he thought he was leaving yesterday and doesn’t want to be there. I say, “That’s super frustrating.” 

He says he’s in pain no matter what he does, no matter what we do.  I say, “That’s awful.”

He says no one there is helping him. I say, “Then it’s unlikely I will be able to either, but I am going to do my best.”

He rants, and he’s got the mouth of a sailor, and I smile at him. He looks at me funny, and then he smiles back. 

In the afternoon, an enema is ordered for this gentleman.  The primary nurse says, “Well, that’s not happening.”  I laugh and say, “No," in agreement.

I go explain that an enema has been ordered to relieve his constipation since he hasn’t had a bowel movement in six days, even with laxatives.  He says absolutely not.  I say, “That’s absolutely no problem,” and explain the risks of a bowel perforation. He says, “No.” I say, “No problem.”

About an hour later, I'm told this patient has asked for me, so I go to his room and he says, without making eye-contact, “You can do my enema.”

I say, “OK. I will be back with the supplies.”

I’ve never given an enema.

I have the nurse come with me to monitor.  We get the meds out of the Omnicell, and it dispenses a packet of molasses.  The order reads, “Mix with heated milk.”

I show the nurse and go, “Huh?”

She says we get milk from the pantry and heat it in the microwave.  

I want to say, “Are you fucking with me?  Nurses usually don’t fuck around, thank you, that’s funny, how refreshing.”  But I edit, “You’re serious? You’re not messing with me?”

She says, “No.”

We go to the pantry, and there are 2% and whole milk in the fridge.  I ask which, and she says, “You choose.”

I like this nurse.

I go with whole milk. I heat it in the microwave and mix it with the molasses. It smells fantastic.

We go to his room, explain the procedure, set it up, and as I’m inserting the lubricated tube into this gentleman’s rear, he’s moaning in discomfort.  I say, “You’re doing great, you’re going to feel much better after.”

He goes, “My God damn asshole!”

I say, “It smells like cookies back here, Jimmy,” knowing we've gotten to know each other well enough to make jokes.

When the molasses and milk have all been funneled in, I remove the tube, and little rabbit pellets come out.  He feels better. He thanks me.

Later, a neighbor of his stops in to visit and brings him a gift including peppers from his garden, "To remind him that there are good things in life and his garden is growing," she says.

He calls me in and says they’d talked and he’d really like to give them to me.  His eyes tear up as he thanks me and gives me his peppers. 

My eyes tear up too. I say, “Thank you...I’m sorry you don’t feel good,” and he makes some comment about growing old.

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Review

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This story is tender, humorous, and deeply compassionate, capturing the often-overlooked humanity that exists in the most uncomfortable, vulnerable moments of healthcare. Beneath its lighthearted surface—anchored by the unexpected absurdity of a molasses and milk enema—the narrative explores themes of dignity, connection, and the transformative power of empathy.

It’s also a quiet but sharp critique of how patients who are labeled as “difficult” often carry emotional burdens that go unrecognized until someone takes the time to see them as human first.

At its heart, this story is about the power of empathy to break down walls in moments of vulnerability. Through small acts of respect, humor, and compassion, it demonstrates how meaningful connections can form even in the most uncomfortable or awkward situations.

The patient is labeled as "difficult" and "an asshole," but compassion, respect for his autonomy, and sense of humor allow him to let down his guard. The nurse's willingness to accept his refusals without judgment empowers him in an environment where patients often feel stripped of autonomy. The molasses and milk enema—at first ridiculous—becomes a strangely tender and symbolic act of care, transforming a humiliating experience into one of dignity and relief. The gift of peppers represents a powerful moment of mutual recognition and gratitude, demonstrating how meaningful connections can bloom in unlikely circumstances.

The tone is warm, playful, and deeply empathetic, balancing humor with moments of genuine emotional depth. The humor isn’t used to dismiss discomfort but instead becomes a tool for connection and humanity. The patient's comment about growing old adds a poignant layer to the story, acknowledging the broader reality of mortality and decline with quiet acceptance.