The thing about being sick is that you do not get to call the shots with your body. You don't get to be in charge. When you are sick, your body does what it needs to in order to get the yuck out and heal. In my case, it's oozing out my drain tubes and creating a bit of an adventure in the bathroom. My guts are constantly making noise. Like, it sounds like Jurassic Park in there. Like two dinasaurs are going at it. It's unnerving, but usually innocent enough. The doctor says the sounds are normal and good. Without them, he says, I would be in the hospital. What the doctor doesn't think is normal is the explosive nature of things when they do happen. I mentioned in my last blog that they want a poo sample. Well, it's kind of hard to get a sample in these conditions. I was supposed to pick up a "poo kit" at the lab, but the lab says they never got an order, so no kit. Seriously, what exactly is the problem with giving me the kit? What am I going to do with the "unauthorized" kit? Is there a high demand for these things? Are they afraid some unknown person will just bring poo in and then they won't know whose it is? Will they put it in the lost and found? Or, what if I'm coming in to pick up someone else's poo kit and then I poo in it instead of the person that it is really for. I mean, are there problems with rogue poo samples? I just know I want my poo to get under control, so I need to know what is going on. I guess I've got to break out the Tupperware and MacGyver this shit.
I sat down today to write the medical assistant an email letting her know that my James Bond 007 attempt to get a poo kit was unsuccessful at the Everett Clinic. I told her I could just "capture" some and put it in the freezer or whatever needed to be done until my next doctor appointment. She responded back that I don't need to freeze it, I can just put it in the fridge. Okay. This sounds good. I'll label it "figgy pudding" or something fun.
As I am finishing up my email, my stomach turned. It turned in a way that I knew was potentially hazardous. This situation was just upgraded to Defcon 4. I stood up and my body convulsed. I did a butt clench, but a fart escaped anyway. Not just any fart. The fart that would forever change my adult life. My face fell, I instantly knew I was in trouble. This was what happens to toddlers after their first feeding of strained peas. I did a butt-clench run to the bathroom. It was as I feared, I needed a full diaper change. If I had been wearing a diaper, it would have oozed out the comfort stretch leg bands. I'm 41 years old and I just crapped myself. This has to be the low point of this whole ordeal. Forget my guts exploded during a staff meeting. Forget my ass was hanging out as I did the walking in the hospital the night of my surgery along with Boxer Guy and Puke Lady. Forget I have a leak in my stomach. Forget my drain tubes spooged on me in public the other day. Forget the Asian lady copped a feel on my boob when she hooked me up to the IV. Forget all the humiliating things that have happened. Today, I crapped myself. I don't know if it gets any lower. This is what happens to other people. It doesn't happen to me. I've joked about needing diapers before when I thought about taking laxatives, but this, this was an injustice I was not prepared for. This is the kind of thing I have told Will if he ever does when he gets old that I will spank his ass for. Thankfully, no one was home. The dogs just looked at me like, "dude, and you get mad when WE poop in the house? Wow." They couldn't even look me in the eye.
I got cleaned up and did a load of laundry. I'm now shuffling around in my pj's with a loose waist band for emergency "drop trou" purposes listening to my stomach roar wondering if these pajamas will make it through the night. Should I have Will run downtown and get plastic sheets for the bed? Do I need Depends? I don't know. Right now I'm mostly upset that I didn't just put my undies in a Tupperware container and put them in the fridge. There, poo sample complete.
All I do know for sure is that between the IV feeding and this new event, I'm scared Will is going to put me in a home for the elderly. I'll be good, I promise. Please don't send me away.
I sat down today to write the medical assistant an email letting her know that my James Bond 007 attempt to get a poo kit was unsuccessful at the Everett Clinic. I told her I could just "capture" some and put it in the freezer or whatever needed to be done until my next doctor appointment. She responded back that I don't need to freeze it, I can just put it in the fridge. Okay. This sounds good. I'll label it "figgy pudding" or something fun.
As I am finishing up my email, my stomach turned. It turned in a way that I knew was potentially hazardous. This situation was just upgraded to Defcon 4. I stood up and my body convulsed. I did a butt clench, but a fart escaped anyway. Not just any fart. The fart that would forever change my adult life. My face fell, I instantly knew I was in trouble. This was what happens to toddlers after their first feeding of strained peas. I did a butt-clench run to the bathroom. It was as I feared, I needed a full diaper change. If I had been wearing a diaper, it would have oozed out the comfort stretch leg bands. I'm 41 years old and I just crapped myself. This has to be the low point of this whole ordeal. Forget my guts exploded during a staff meeting. Forget my ass was hanging out as I did the walking in the hospital the night of my surgery along with Boxer Guy and Puke Lady. Forget I have a leak in my stomach. Forget my drain tubes spooged on me in public the other day. Forget the Asian lady copped a feel on my boob when she hooked me up to the IV. Forget all the humiliating things that have happened. Today, I crapped myself. I don't know if it gets any lower. This is what happens to other people. It doesn't happen to me. I've joked about needing diapers before when I thought about taking laxatives, but this, this was an injustice I was not prepared for. This is the kind of thing I have told Will if he ever does when he gets old that I will spank his ass for. Thankfully, no one was home. The dogs just looked at me like, "dude, and you get mad when WE poop in the house? Wow." They couldn't even look me in the eye.
I got cleaned up and did a load of laundry. I'm now shuffling around in my pj's with a loose waist band for emergency "drop trou" purposes listening to my stomach roar wondering if these pajamas will make it through the night. Should I have Will run downtown and get plastic sheets for the bed? Do I need Depends? I don't know. Right now I'm mostly upset that I didn't just put my undies in a Tupperware container and put them in the fridge. There, poo sample complete.
All I do know for sure is that between the IV feeding and this new event, I'm scared Will is going to put me in a home for the elderly. I'll be good, I promise. Please don't send me away.
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