And I mean that quite literally.
Consider that to be your “explicit poop content ahead” warning. As usual, I will attempt to talk directly and honestly about my experiences without being too gross.
It’s a fine line, but I insist on walking it.
Anyhow, on with the show.
I had another attack of sleep incontinence. Pooped the bed in my sleep. On my fucking birthday, which had already been partly ruined by the whole five week month thing.
Ain’t life fucking grand.
I did not notice what had happened right away when I woke up. In my defense, there were no sure signs.
My butthole did not have that “gaping” feeling I sometimes get after these incidents, for which I am grateful as that is a painful and unpleasantly obscene and vulnerable feeling that I can easily live without.
I wonder if that’s how some women feel about being “spread”. Those inner labia must be pretty dang sensitive.
So I didn’t know it had happened until I put my hand down on the bed in order to push myself upright as Phase 1 of getting out of bed and encountered a slick, viscous substance of some sort.
Oh god no, I thought. Then put my hand closer to my body, in an area more directly behind my behind, and yup.
It was poopageddon back there.
As usual, it was loose, runny, and comprised of a lot of small pieces of semi-digested food the size of small pebbles.
Which puzzles me, now that I am thinking about it. How does anything go from my stomach to my butthole without being fully digested? At some point the process has to be been interrupted somehow but peristalsis carried the half-hearted end product (sic) out of my body anyhow.
Well I supposed that is a hell of a lot better than halting the production line entirely.
As usual, my policy will be that one isolated incident is not sufficient to send me to the ER or Urgent Care, but two is, so if it happens again in the next couple of weeks, it will be straight to the ER for me.
That’s what I was told to do by an ER doc who was worried about that hairline crack in my L4 vertebra. If I experience either incontinence or an inability to urinate, I should head straight to the ER.
The whole “only if it happens again” part is my idea. I know that it’s not the medically intelligent thing to do. I should be heading to the ER right now, if not sooner.
But fuck that. It’s my birthday. And I am not spending my birthday in the ER.
Plus you just know “pooped the bed” is going to be assigned a very low triage score soI would be there for a loooong time.
Plus being in the ER sucks, even on non-birthdays. So I am not eager to go there based on a single isolated incident.
As for why it happens, I have no idea. It happens so infrequently that I don’t really have a sense of what might trigger it.
I know that last night, I took two big poops. One, then about ten minutes later, after I had settled down in bed again, the urge came for another.
That was unwelcome.
Anyhow, maybe I should have taken a third?
But no, that would not explain the semi-digestion thing. And nothing serious has happened to my back or my bowels that I know of.
It’s just another way the universe amuses itself by fucking with me, and telling me that I cannot rely on anything, not even bowel control.
Anything can happen at any time and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
Yeah… life’s a fucking peach.
More after the break.
Wish I was here, addendum
Pretty sure I have used that title before, hence…
Anyhow, this is not a proper topic for a post on my birthday, but it’s something I feel the need to say, so I am going to say it anyway.
To everyone who has ever loved or tried to love me, I’m sorry.
Sorry I wasn’t really there. Sorry I was right there in front of you but also a million miles away. Sorry that it seemed like I was there and friendly and warm and alive but somehow there was still this invisible impenetrable barrier between us. Sorry that it was so hard – nearly impossible, in fact – to get truly close to me.
Sorry if I sometimes appear to be a mighty wizard. Be assured that I am really just the man behind the curtain.
Sorry if I drew you close with my wit and warmth and charm only to leave you locked out in the cold when you got too close.
This far, and no further.
Really, really sorry if I made you feel stupid or like you had done something to offend me or otherwise made you feel bad about yourself by not letting you in.
Just the thought of doing that to someone is like icicle teeth biting into my heart. If I have ever done that to you, I am infinitely sorry, and hope to do better from now on.
Know that I love you all, even if I have trouble showing it sometimes. I feel like I am only just now, at the age of 51, figuring out the nature of that invisible wall and in so doing learning to melt it away.
And a very special sorry goes out to all the people who tried to connect with me in my childhood but completely failed because I was so far, far away.
I can see now how incredibly discouraging it must be to see someone who is clearly lonely and alone and tried to be there for them only for something neither of us even understand to go wrong and the connection is just not made.
Rest assured that I am the broken one, not you. Something went terribly wrong with my social programming and it left me unable to read and receive the social signals so vital to getting along with one’s fellow humans.
Meaning I couldn’t send them out either.
Again, a world of apologies if I ever made you feel like you were doing something wrong or that there was something wrong with you because you couldn’t connect with me.
Don’t take it personally. I can’t connect with anyone.
I’m a broken little birdie who never learned to fly. A robot with a broken antenna that makes him think nobody loves him because he can’t feel their love. A friend alien who alienates as he attracts and leaves people confused and hurt without intending to.
All I can say is, please don’t give up on me. I’m here, I really am, and I love you with all of my warm fluffy heart, and I need people to believe in me.
Only then can I be real. With you, and with everybody else.
I thank you and love you all. Remember that just because you don’t hear from me does not mean that I do not care.
I’m just far, far away.
But I am coming home.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.