Sunday, August 15, 2010

Well Shit

Dear Diary:

Well shit.

No seriously, I need to shit.

One of the side effects that doctors do not always tell you when prescribing pain medication is that it can, and will, make you constipated.

I know, just what you wanted to hear, right?

So, needless to say, my bowel movements have not been that regular. I walk around feeling like I am carrying a baby: a big, stinky, turd baby.

Now for us guys, taking a good shit can be a beautiful thing.

*side note- when I was about 14 or so my mom, dad, and I were having dinner. The topic of school came up and I had watched the NOVA special on child birth (you know, the one that everyone sees in health class where they show the baby from fertilization to birth). I had commented that birth looks disgusting, and at that point my mom said "honey, giving birth is a beautiful thing." Which was quickly followed by my dad saying, "well for a guy a good shit is a beautiful thing, but no one wants to look at it!" And this is why I love my family.*

But anyway, taking a good shit can be a beautiful thing, but not when you are plugged up. In fact, it is then a painful, oh man is it a fucking painful, thing. You do not sit upon the porcelain thrown with a cup of coffee and the paper and let fly the dogs of war. Oh no, you must hunker down and pray that your ass is not split in four. (Hey that kinda rhymed, I'm a poet!)

You sometimes crouch over and hold your legs or anything you can clench because you my friend, are about to crap a Cadillac. Or at least it feels like a fucking Cadillac. With gigantic tires, and lots of very sharp edges.

But you cannot clench. The tightening of the exit point is not an option, especially when you have the turtle head sticking out. This only delays the inevitable and prolongs the pain.

So, you hold your breath, and you pray. You pray that what is about to disengage itself from your body will be quick. You pray that you will be able to walk after a log the size of a redwood escapes your system. You pray there is no serious damage. You pray that you never have to go through this again. You pray for fiber, tons and tons of fiber. You pray that when you look to your side there will be toilet paper. You pray your colon didn't escape too.

But most of all you pray you didn't clog the toilet.

4 comments:

  1. Uhhh I think this post needed a TMI warning ;-) Ewww, but uh, hope that rectifies itself soon (no pun intended...)

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  2. Ouchie. And yes, agreed!

    Love the story about your family.

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  3. A lot of your blog has resonated with me. I don't know if you'll be happy to hear that this post is the one that made me say "HAHA YES!!!" out loud to my cats. I am still traumatized by a post-painkillers pooping session from about six years ago. NEVER AGAIN.

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