This happened over a week ago but it’s taken me this long to work up the nerve to tell it because it’s downright humiliating and more than a little gross.
So, fair warning, the following would be hilarious to 14 year olds.
OK, so last week I was deeply engrossed in a YouTube video (don’t remember which one) when I realized I really needed to pee.
Last chance to bail, squeamish people
No problem, I thought. I will just use my handy-dandy receptacle.
So without taking my eyes off the video, I picked up said receptacle, used it, ten put it back on my bedside table.
And then the video ended and I once more became aware of my surroundings (kinda), and discovered to my horror that I had peed not in the customary receptacle but another, identical container that I keep next to the proper urinal one.
And this was the one I keep all my hard candy in.
Luckily, they are all individually wrapped and thus were not, in fact, contaminated by this disaster. I was able to empty the liquid contents of my poor “candy jar” into my toilet and then blot the sodden but still unharmed candies dry with a towel.
The only lasting harm seems to be that the heat of my emissions melted the candies slightly in their wrapper, causing them to stick to the wrapper more than usual and that makes them a pain in the ass to unwrap.
Surprisingly, almost no odor was left behind. I was more effective in my blotting off the wee then I would have thought possible.
I can smell the liquid in question if I pick up the container and give it a sniff, but otherwise I have come out the other side with remarkably little harm done.
Maybe there really are angels that look after fools like me.
Well, better late than never, I guess.
Honestly, this was bad even for me. I can’t believe something so very gross out comedy actually happened to me. The Farrelly Brothers should take inspiration from me.
I guess I just don’t get to have dignity.
About the day
Oh right, the things that actually happen to me.
Did the Wound Care thing this morning. Was kind of embarrassed because one of my bandages came off at some point and I have no idea when.
I really need to pay more attention to my feet. They’re quite troubled.
But my extremely sedentary lifestyle plus whatever the fuck is happening to my legs insures that, quite frankly, my feet don’t get a lot of use.
So unless a problem is bad enough to cause me conscious pain when I get up to go to the bathroom or whatever. I’m not gonna notice it.
I know I should be inspecting my feet every day. I know the whole routine where you sort of methodically knead each foot to look for hard spots, sore spots, or anything that does not feel right.
But there’s a million things I “should” be doing and I don’t do any of them.
What can I say, I was a neglected child who became a self-neglecting adult. Nobody looked after me so I don’t look after myself.
I would like to change all that but deep down I do not fundamentally feel like I am worth the effort and that makes it very hard to do anything with myself.
I can’t get motivated to help myself most days. What do I care about a piece of shit like me? I don’t matter. I don’t count. I’m not worth a bit of anyone’s time and resources.
I’m not even supposed to be here.
And some day, I won’t be.
More after the break.
I get weak
Mandatory song reference :
I’ve been feeling kind of weak lately.
And not the the usual flu-like way. It’s more like it takes more effort – more oomph – to do things than it normally requires.
Especially things like standing up. Feels like while I am going from sitting down to standing up, my lower legs are suddenly encased in wet cement.
But at least my back doesn’t hurt. And that points to the most probable cause for this feeling of weakness : that muscle relaxant I have been taking, cyclobenzaprine.
Muscle weakness is not listed as a potential side effect of the drug, but it’s a muscle relaxant, so it would make sense for relaxed muscles to need a bit more effort to get to move the way you want them to.
I know I hate moving when I am really mellow and relaxed.
Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that muscle tension is the only thing propping me up all this time.
Maybe I can’t relax or I melt like wax.
I’m a nervous guy.
And maybe that’s why I can’t seem to shake this diarrhea. Every time I think it has gone and my digestion has normalized, it comes back to liquefy my bowels anew
Last night, it got so bad that I couldn’t sleep because when I tried, I would find I once more had to go to the bathroom.
The most fucked up part is that sometimes I get this feeling of some kind of unspeakable mist spraying deep in my large intestines.
That’s when I know something unpleasant is going to happen pretty soon, and that I should probably head to the bathroom right away.
I don’t, but I should.
Instead I tend to resist the warning signs like they are a pesky little brother until things became very dire and I have to sprint – well, hobble rapidly anyhow – to the bathroom lest I have something really nasty to clean up.
I am going to start keeping track of what I eat so that I can see if there are any foods which are triggering this response.
But I fear it might be a symptom of my continuing undiagnosed syndrome that is eating my muscles away.
Ain’t that fun.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.