So today started out pretty shitty.
And by now you know I mean that literally.
Brown alert, poop talk ahead!
So the day started out fine. I had trouble unwinding so I ended up staying awake until like 6:20 am this morning.
But after that, I was finally tired enough to sleep.
Slept until a bit before 10 am. Got up, ate breakfast, hugged fuzzy folk. My usual morning routine, two hours later.
Whatever. Not important.
I still needed a lot more sleep, though, so I had to bid farewell to my fluffy paramours and go back to sleep far earlier than I would have liked.
So I went back to sleep and slept quite heavily…. too heavily, as it turned out.
Because yup, sleep incontinence struck again, Man I’m getting tired of this shit (ha ha).
Woke up quite groggy, felt the by now sadly far too familiar wrongness in the general vicinity of my butthole. put my hand there, got the very bad news.
So then I had to go through a ton of Kleenex cleaning both bed and butt to the best of my ability given the steel spikes shooting up through my mattress trying their best to impale me so I bleed out, because that’s just the way my life works.
Not that I’m bitter.
Oh, but life was not done being shitty (hee) to me. Not by far.
See, once I finished cleanup, I realized I needed to pee. And luckily my receptacle was close at hand and there was room for even a sizable micturition in it. So I figured I would make use of it.
But in my hazy and pissed off state (terrible combo), I forgot that for some reason, sometimes when I pee, I get the urge to poop during the act.
Sometimes the urge vanishes the moment I stop peeing, suggesting that the problem is that something is making my bladder press against or otherwise stimulate my bowels.
And not in a fun way.
So the moment I started peeing, I felt a great mass of stuff slithering out of me uncontrollably. Understandably, my heart sank as my bowels emptied.
And this was WAY more stuff than had come out of me the first time. So not only did I have to start the cleanup all over again, it was a much bigger and grosser task this time.
Ain’t life a peach.
Oh, and this time, it wasn’t the somewhat harmless half-digested bits of food like the first time. This was some serious (literal) shit.
I can’t promise I won’t make more shit jokes.
So I cleaned up THAT mess with an even more enormous quantity of Kleenex, and when I was sort of done, I realized I had a huge wad of extremely soiled tissues that I needed to dispose of.
So I reluctantly wadded them up, carried them into the bathroom, dumped them into the toilet, and flushed.
Which was dumb, dumb, dumb, because of course, the toilet instantly clogged and began to overflow.
This was getting farcical in a completely unfunny way.
Luckily, I knew what to do. Gently got the plunger in there and with a few swift form plunges, I unclogged the mofo.
It was a very low level clog, easy to defeat.
So that was my wonderful morning. Just another sunshine-y day in the life of a lost genius trying to finally get a life at the age of 51.
And I haven’t even talked about the shower thing yet. A total stranger hosed me off like I was an elephant at the zoo today.
It felt pretty good.
More after the break.
The Rosewood Incident
So after Poopgate Number Whatever, I was able to relax by (what else) playing video games for a little while until 1 pm rolled around and it was time for me to head off to a local old folks’ home, Rosewood Manor, for a shower.
My first in well over two years, mind you.
And I was nervous, but as Felicity had suggested, I had popped a Xanax around noon so I was not panicking or freaking out.
Amazing stuff, that Alprazolam (Xanax). My anxiety was completely gone. And yet, I wasn’t stoned or sleepy or silly or dizzy or anything.
I was just chemically unable to panic. Bitchin’.
We arrived a little early. The appointment was for 1:30 pm and we got there at more like 1:20 pm so neither my case worker Tina nor my caretaker Harjit were there yet.
Plus, we were having trouble getting the car registered for parking. Parking was free for the first two hours, and we were only there for an hour, so that was all good.
Eventually we were led down a long corridor to a “spa room” that had some weird high tech kind of bath tub and a sort of stall with a detachable shower head and a device resembling a wheelchair as imagined by Fischer Price in it.
I got undressed and got in the chair and Harjit washed my hair and showered me all over. Thanks to Xanax, it was no big deal. I have always said that I somehow got a lower dose ot the nudity taboo than others and so it honestly was no big deal for me to just sit there and enjoy the luxury of FINALLY showering after all this time.
Well, being showered. You know what I mean.
I might ask to do it all myself next time. I’m not sure. It’s a strange thing to trust a stranger to do for you. It’s so personal.
But I must admit, my oral-retentive side loved being taken care of like that. And that is kind of distressing. I don’t like that side of myself and don’t want to cater to it because I don’t want to end up as even more of an overgrown and overbrained infant than I already am. I much prefer to be independent.
So in sense, it’s the classic struggle between decadence and autonomy. It’s a territory I am going to have to explore more and more as my debility advances and I am going to have to get used to preserving my dignity and freedom however I can.
Overall, it was a pleasant experience, although when I got home my legs were not happy with me due to having to go down that long corridor and back.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.