What Makes Me, Me

Having irritable bowel syndrome sure makes things interesting. I have crapped at the spur of the moment in the most unique of places.

Today, after ingesting a breakfast of grease, lard and oil at the Village Coffee Shop, I told Ken to stop by Whole Foods so I could take a crap and maybe pick up some organic edamame. I was pretty laid back at first, but then informed him he had better run the yellow lights because the turd was peaking.

It then occurred to me that one of these days in the probably not so distant future I will crap my pants. It is inevitable. Usually when the urge strikes I am either at home or in five minutes distance of a Target or grocery store bathroom. I am guessing that one day I will be on the highway with no shoulder and no exits in sight. I will be sweating, cramping and clenching my sphincter. I will be doing my best to hold it all in, knowing that the clean up will be horrendous. I will hold it and hold it for ten miles until a see an exit for Micky Dee's. I will be ecstactic and relieved all at once. I will hold it some more and as I get off of the exit and turns towards the big "M" I will start to fantasize about how good this will feel once I am alone in the stall. I will be in the home stretch when I approach a railroad crossing. And there will be a train and I will be forced to stop and the train will be five miles long and it will be going five miles per hour and there will be cars ahead of me and behind me and we will be at a standstill and I will know. I will know that there is no escape and I am going to shit myself.

This is what I see in my future. Some people see going skydiving one day or swimming with the sharks. I see sitting in my Ford Explorer in my own waste.

And this brings me to another story - one I like to call my MEM (Most Embarrassing Moment). It was my first experience with my irritable bowel problem. I was just an unsuspecting young thing at the time and had no clue what was coming. But if you want to read that story, you'll have to tune in next time. I have to go to the bathroom.

Congratulations! It's a Turd!

My favorite cousin, Anna, just had her first baby. The babe turned two months old on June 2nd. Hearing about someone pushing one out takes me back...

I had my first child, Sam, over ten years ago. The way that I shit the delivery table, however, seems like yesterday.

Let me preface this story by saying that I'm one that has always been constipated. At any given time I probably have several days of turd stored in my body. I am not proud of this. The only way I know how backed up I am is when I poop corn. Then I can trace the corn back to a particular meal. When I do go, however, it is swift and voluminous. This is an important foreshadow to the story.

My water broke at 1:00 a.m. We made our was to the hospital and the strong contractions started pretty much immediately. I begged for and got the epidural. Instantaneously I couldn't feel anything from my waist down. I labored for awhile, then the doc stuck his hand inside and proclaimed it was time to push.

In the movies, you push and scream and grunt for ten minutes, tops, and the baby is out. Not in my case. The doctor left the room. I lay there in stirrup position with the nurse between my legs telling me to push with every contraction. Husband Ken was positioned behind my right shoulder, coaching me along. I pushed and pushed and pushed. What I didn't realize was that every time I pushed, I shit the table. It was at about crap #8 that I smelled that distinctive turd smell. I turned to Ken and asked, "Did I shit?" He smirked and nodded his head. It then dawned on me what the nurse had been doing after every push - WIPING MY ASS!!

Suddenly I became very self conscious in front of the nurse and wanted to make some awkward small talk:

Me: Heh..heh. Guess I've been pooping a bit. In your job, you must be used to this after awhile.

Nurse: No, not really.

Me: Oh.

Nurse: (silence, stern look on her face).

The good news is that by the time Sam crowned, I was clean and there was no fecal matter on his head. The other good news is that with baby #2 I was prepared and did an enema or two in advance.

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