TRIGGER WARNING : Watch out for Roy Rogers’ horse.
Oh, but also :
TRIGGER WARNING : Serious poop talk ahead.
So first, a small confession : ever since my legs went boom, I have kept a receptacle on my bedside table for me to pee in.
This saves me from having to get out of bed to empty my bladder and that saves me a fair bit of pain.
Obviously, when I do eventually get up, I just empty it into the toilet and flush.
And now, a distressing mystery : lately, whenever I pee, I get the urge to poop. It feels quite urgent, and yet, the moment I finish peeing, it goes away.
This worries me because I can’t come up with a healthy explanation for this phenomenon. My best guess is that somehow, while I am urinating, the pipe between my bladder and my urethra swells as the urine passes through it and that presses on or against something involved in defecation, hence the urge to do so.
And that’s not normal. It’s quite new, in fact. Something in there must be swollen, or inflamed, or both. Uh oh.
Anyhow, thus the stage is set for what happened last night.
I was woken up by a full bladder at around 4:30 am. I of course grabbed my receptacle and began peeing into it.
Not longer after that, I became aware of a very ominous bubbling sensation coming from my rectum.
I probably should have stopped peeing then. But we male humans really don’t like forcing a stop to our peeing.
It’s uncomfortable at best and downright painful at worst.
Nonetheless, the moment I was done, I felt the bed under where my butt had been, and sure enough, it was wet.
Oh shit, I thought, not without irony.
So I grabbed a bunch of kleenex and mopped and wiped up the (mostly) fluid. This included having to thoroughly wipe my ass for reasons that should be obvious.
Very upsetting. But I kept it together and got up and flushed all the kleenex and headed back to bed.
Only to discover a big pile of what I am forced to refer to as poop. [1]
My reluctance comes from the fact that it did not look like poop at all. It was a light tan color and made of small discrete lumps.
That and the smell of bile as I wiped it up made the whole mess seem a lot more like semi-digested food than actual feces.
And I know what you’re thinking. But as heavy a sleeper as I am, I am pretty sure that vomiting in my sleep without waking up is beyond me.
Besides, it was on the wrong part of the bed for that.
On the other hand, I am at a loss to explain how such a substance could make it all the way through both sections of the GI tract while remaining in that state.
It would certainly take something going drastically wrong.
And that has me seriously worried. I was told at the hospital that if I have bouts of incontinence or difficulty peeing, I am to go back to the ER at once.
I am not ready to do that just yet. But one more incident and I am gone.
At least I will have my tablet with me and thus the waiting will be less painful.
Lord. don’t let this mean that things are getting worse.
More after the break.
A : Well, time to strap on the old feedbag…
B : OK, but let’s eat first.
A whinnies in agreement.
Birthing dirty ice
Today was Therapy Thursday.
Had a pretty good session. I got a lot of my negativity out. Managed to get quite emotional. Even cried a bit near the end.
That is big progress for me. Being emotional in realtime is hard for me, especially in the presence of others.
I’m beginning to realize my social mask is pretty damned tight.
So much so that the “real” me is a stranger to me for the most part. I invest so much of myself into my default persona because he’s the person I wish I was. The person I would rather be, without all the damage.
If I could transform into that guy – Fruvous, both the RL and VR – I would. He’s so much happier and saner than I am.
But like I have said before, it’s not that I am faking being Fruvous. He is me and I am him. But he is not the whole me.
I even feel better when I am being him. I feel warmer and stronger and, dare I say, sexier. My expansive personality and charisma shine through and I can almost feel like a whole person. A real human being.
But then I go right back into my little box and I am sad old me again and I bury myself in video games to mask how much it hurts to be me.
Oh well. At least pouring ,my guts out to Doc Costin made me feel better.
And the whole time, I had that cold feeling inside that I have come to associate with catharsis. The feeling is centered around my heart (how symbolic) but radiates out weakly to the rest of me.
It’s like I am experiencing the thawing out of my emotions on a bodily level. I can almost feel them melting away.
Sadly, I need my words to do it. Hence this blog.
Once more. thank you so very much for reading these words.
You make this all possible.
Further adventures in ordering in
So my credit card is just plain not working on DoorDash.
So I decided to revisit my Uber Eats account from long ago. The account I abandoned because Uber Eats stopped accepting my credit card/
The circle is complete.
So I sign in to my account. It wants the code it texted me. But I didn’t have a cell phone back when I signed up so, with his permission, I used Joe’s number.
A fact I did not recall until he was asking me if I ordered an Uber.
Ooops. I apologized to him, then put the whole thing out of my mind.
Until derp, it’s Joe who gets the phone call saying the food has arrived.
No problem, I will just change the number associated with the account.
It is impossible to change the phone number associated with the account. I can change literally every other thing, including my name (??), but there is no option anywhere on the website to change your phone number.
So I can’t use that service either. Joe will get the call and there is nothing I can do about that so bam goes Uber Eats.
Oh well, at least I got one meal out of it.
But yeah, Really starting to resent this Kafka-esque bullshit.
Shut up and take my money!
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.