My Dad has one of these, and because he has one of those every 2 1/2 months he has to go downtown to Frazier Rehab to get it emptied and refilled. Because my Dad is disabled, because he sometimes doesn't think as well as he should or remember things like he used to (from years of overuse of pain medication and loss of oxygen during his major heart attack) I usually accompany him on these visits. I fill out paperwork, help him answer questions and handle setting up the valet parking for the car.
And I freaking hate every minute of it.
What taking our Dad to the doctor looks like: A Photo Essay
(note the spot on my upper lip. that's my new 'skin cancer', at least I firmly believe it might be skin cancer. i'll get back to you, the dermatologist won't see me for another month)