Warning, fairly detailed poop talk ahead.
I probably shouldn’t talking about this in public but the phenomenon is so bizarre that I absolutely have to tell someone or I will lose my shit.
Pun absolutely intended.
This has happened three times now : I sit down on the bowl and take a perfectly normal shit. Straining, pushing, plopping, the whole defecation sensorium occurs.
Everything is fine till I stand up and go to flush only to discover….
THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IN THE BOWL.
Nothing. Not even the slightest of brown dots. I have somehow had what seems like a totally normal everyday excretory experience but it was ALL A LIE.
I have taken a phantom shit.
I have had a rectal hallucination.
I have been made a fool of by the poop goblins again.
Or something even more outlandish and obscure.
I seriously cannot figure out what the hell is happening. I don’t see how it is possible. I swear I recall the sensation of fecal matter exiting my body in the usual way, and yet obviously that never happened.
So did my mind just fill it what it expected to feel?
Next time I poop I am going to be paying very close attention, as absurd as that sounds. I will mentally document the whole process. I will examine it from every possible angle. I will probe the matter deeply and descend into the very bowels of hell till I get to the bottom of this bizarre mystery.
OK, I am done now.
Wait…. I won’t stop till I am pooped!
OK, I think that’s all of it. For now.
I suppose this is technically a medical issue, but I am hardly going to bother a medical person with it. Not when the only part of me that is suffering is my curiosity.
But I simply have to know what the fuck is up with my butt.
It and I go back a really long way!
On breaking even
Well I don’t seem to have gotten any worse, anyhow.
That’s the exciting, action-packed update, The “cramp” has stayed away for the most part and so all I have to deal with is the by now routine excruciating leg pain when I stand up and walk around.
Doing wound care on Monday should be “fun”. Pretty sure I am going to break down and get myself some (fucking) crutches soon without waiting for Doctor Chao to chime in on whether it’s a good idea.
Must remember to call and annoy him Monday. Hey, remember me? The guy who could lose his ability to walk at any second?
If that happens and his negligence is a factor, I will sue the bejesus out of him.
I don’t care how cute he is! (answer : very. )
I keep thinking about braces instead of crutches. I guess because on some level they seem a lot easier than crutches.
Reminder : I fucking hate crutches.
But that is rapidly being tempered by the tantalizing prospect of being able to walk without agonizing leg pain.
Instead, I will walk with agonizing ARMPIT pain.
Well, a change is as good as a rest, so they say.
More after the break.
A massive revelation
I just figured something out.
The mystery of those shows with massive ratings even though nobody admits to liking them is really no mystery at all.
Because you don’t need to like a show to watch it. You don’t even have to admit to YOURSELF that you like a show to watch it.
If you wanted to be a dick about it, you could ask people, “We know you don’t like the show…. but do you ever WATCH it?”
And if they are being honest, they will admit that they do.
That’s the dark miracle of this kind of content. These shows know how to appeal to subconscious mind enough to get you to tune in.
They don’t give a shit if you admit it to anybody.
Thus, I invent a new term : shamewatching. You shamewatch a show if you watch it and even enjoy it but you would just DIE if your peer group caught you at it.
“My wife caught me shamewatching ‘Is it cake?’ last night. I tried to convince her that I had just been channel zapping, but then she found the t-shirt. Man, I am never going to live THIS one down. ”
You get the idea.
Bodies are dumb
My mission : get my Subway order from the door.
Mission status : complete, but it was pretty damned close.
Mission debrief : Started off strong but The Pain caught up to me pretty fast. So the trip back from Mission Objective was much harder than the trip there. By the time I got back to the computer, I was sweating like a summer ham and felt like I was going to pass out. Right at the last second, just as I was sitting down. my ankle buckled and I almost fell.
Can’t help but see that as fate giving me a warning shot.
“Take heed, fat boy, because next time, I won’t miss. ”
This once more reminds me that I am basically a cripple and for my own safety probably should not be left all alone in the apartment any more.
And that made me realize that there is a much bigger challenge than possible life in a wheelchair on the road ahead of me
How on Earth would I adjust to having another person around me all the time?!?
I have been a hardcore loner for a long long time now and of necessity I adapted to being all alone and now it’s the only way I know how to operate.
Having another person always in my mindspace would drive me buggy. I can totally imagine that triggering my metamorphosis into a wild-eyed curmudgeon, cranky all the time and rather hard for a potential caretaker to deal with.
Hopefully I would learn to just ignore them and forget they are there. And hopefully they would be okay with that and would cooperate by being unobtrusive and quiet.
I’m getting the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it.
Hopefully it won’t come to that any time soon.
Even though technically, it should be there right now.
I guess I will have to keep living a life of pulse-pounding adventure until I figure something out on this score.
I refuse to ask Joe and/or Julian to do it.
That pretty much leaves “the province paying a stranger to babysit me” as the only option. Farewell the tiny bit of dignity I am surprised to find I had left.
Never forget : things can always get worse.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.