A few weeks ago a discussion about BMs reminded me about my experience with a particular surgery I had about 6 years ago and the resulting lack of poo.
Now one of the reasons people have issues with poo is that prior you're told not to eat or drink a few hours before going in, then you are not eating a few hours after going in. Your desire to eat is lessened even further for days, you are pumped full of pain medications (pain Rx cause constipation) and all of this results into the fact that the moisture content of your intestines is being absorbed back into your bloodstream rather helping to flush out the poo and that leaves each of these into crusty ol' hunks.
Add all of this to the fact that the anesthesia is a paralytic which causes your intestines to stop the contractions that push food through your intestinal tract down to your pooper shooter.
I found that no amount of using the salad shooter would help my pooper shooter.
The doctors and nurses on staff were quite insistent to find out if my frequent trips to the minuscule restroom in my shared room (another story since I had to share it with a dead woman) resulted in a floater, they were also concerned because I insisted on getting to my feet quickly walking the halls and showing that I was ready to return home as quickly as possible.
here's the beef -
show energy and ability
drop a log
equals = GO HOME
stay lackadaisical and depressed -
retain your feces
equals = STAY LONGER
My kitty's and husband wanted and needed me, my Temperpedic bed was a lot more comfortable and the privacy of my own bathroom sounded like a dream to me. I was pretty well tired of having my rest disturbed every hour to have someone check my blood pressure and temperature in the middle of the night, adjust the compression cuffs they put on your feet which I've now since forgotten the name for and annoyed the living Hell out of me.
I was positive they'd hired Nurse Ratchet to do my IVs because it was forever inserted at an awkward angle and causing me severe discomfort, mind you that I am one tough cookie when it comes to pain tolerance since I've suffered from FMS for most of my life.
Needless to say, I was ready to return home even if it meant telling a lil' white lie about a lil brown pile. What could it hurt, I poop pretty steady actually and have some issues using too much tissue. Everything should be regular the minute I have a great big glass of milk or a cup of corn.
The good patient was released, my lilly white ass to be seen no more trouncing through the hallways in my house-slippers and hospital gown. I returned home on the liquid diet they recommended to ease into my normal habits of ribeye steaks swimming in garlic butter and mashed potatoes with gravy. My culinary grace in full swing, I did not really take notice that everything was entering my pie hole but never exiting my bunghole until a week...two weeks..and finally clutching my stomach in agony the 3rd week was upon me.
Now I really was in so much discomfort, the 2nd week I felt when I sat down I was squatting on top of a bowling ball as well as having one lodged within my stomach, plus I was plummeting down in one of those Midway rides that you go up a hundred feet to be dropped down suddenly (Disney had one called Demon Drop). The intense pressure and G-forces would make your stomach feel like it was coming up and out of your throat, the feeling I had was reversed as if my stomach was being jammed down my shitter but nothing was going to come out except farts.
During this time of healing my 'help' in the house, a young lady we'll call Libby, was coming over with frequency because I should not be lifting. She'd gone from working 6 hours weekly to 10-12. Whenever she could pop over between work and school, she'd drop by and scoop litter boxes and wash some of my cats an get the garbage out. If she wanted to she could do anything else she wanted to but was never obligated to - I just got lucky and found myself a nice housekeeper in the mix. She would run the sweeper and even wash the dishes that might sit in the sink.
That final week where I was practically on deaths door from pain, I felt as if I did not crap someone would just have to shoot me and put me out of my misery, I finally decided that I would have to accept I needed to just ask someone what I could do. Already I'd gone the way of Fleet, Metamucil, Milk of Magnesia and drinking gallons of water in desperation of trying to flush out my demons but again I was dry as dust.
Sitting on the throne, my brow furrowed in consternation, sweat beading on my forehead, elbows digging into my thighs as I leaned in and grunted with effort nearly blowing an O-ring I was in tears from the lack of production... I finally would just fall to the floor, laying on the shagged rug listening to the exhaust fan and the reverberation of my sobs on the shower tiles.
I crawled back into bed, reached for my telephone and dialed the ER and with a pitiful voice I explained my situation. "Hello, yes I was there a few weeks ago for such an such surgery (ladies lower abdominal) and well, I haven't made a poo in over 2 weeks going on 3. I'm in a lot of discomfort (that's being nice - since I'm gasping for air after the sobs have subsided) and just don't know what else to do."
"Well you would have to come in and we would do digital dis-impaction (where the doctor or nurse use their fingers to help dislodge the hardened stool) or (in advanced cases) surgery."
"could you please tell me, when you say digital...your telling me someone's going to put their fingers in my ass?"
To which there was a little bit of an intake of breath, a giggle and then, "Yes ma'am that's about it. Basically someone is going to have to pluck it out for you. They will help flush it and dig it out."
"Well ummm thank you for letting me know, I think that I am going to give this a try with someone that already knows the ins and outs of my asshole and if it doesn't work then I'll go ahead and let someone else have a whack"
To which I hung up and cried a little more for the stupidity of letting this go for so long, then telephoned the husband and in a voice that lacked my vitality and verve I asked him to stop at the pharmacy for a box of rubber gloves, some Vaseline, another box of enemas and some Motrin.
This was going to be my own little surgery.
Dejected I hung up, laid my head down on the pillow and wept myself to sleep, curled into a fetal position as it was the only way I could find some comfort because of the heavy pain in my stomach and back. Oh I feel for you ladies that are pregnant and I am so grateful for the very reason I had that surgery, I will never get pregnant and have that great big fat miserable feeling!
Half way between sleep and wakefulness, I whine and moan to myself when I hear my front door open and thinking it's the husband I start to make little sounds from the bedroom which is down a long hallway from the door (which is slightly ajar and right next to the restroom which stands open and awaiting my dark delivery).
It's not my husband, it's Libby and she is not aware that I am home in bed, she says aloud, "OMG it stinks to high Heaven in here like some old person SHIT themselves and then DIED!"
She wandered first around the living room, picked up a few papers and tidied up all the while I could hear her..."Them cats couldn't make that smell, I wonder what happened in here? Someone musta ate something bad last night"
The farts escaping me were like deaths butterfly kisses, squeezing past my poo and blowing through the air to soak my home in the smell that permeates nursing homes.
Make sure you shit it's an important function in life.
Woe is me.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Thoughts about All Hallows Eve
It's been years since I've had the 'treat' of going out for tricks, and this year was such a pleasure for me. This year I talked the husband into doing something which I find a great deal of fun - dressing up in disguise and joining the rest of the silly adults for laughter and drinks.
Halloween to me is a non-holiday, it's the opportunity to shed our daily mask and don one of the many persona's that hide within us. Whether you might be a clown, silly and wishing to turn a frown upside down or perhaps you always wanted to be a police officer ready to arrest someone for their wrong doings (or just be naught and slap the cuffs on and have that power over them!).
Seriously if you ask me, Halloween is the day we release ourselves from the daily grind and cut loose. Behind the make-up or the rubber mask we are free at last to express ourselves in the freest fashion possible.
Halloween to me is a non-holiday, it's the opportunity to shed our daily mask and don one of the many persona's that hide within us. Whether you might be a clown, silly and wishing to turn a frown upside down or perhaps you always wanted to be a police officer ready to arrest someone for their wrong doings (or just be naught and slap the cuffs on and have that power over them!).
Seriously if you ask me, Halloween is the day we release ourselves from the daily grind and cut loose. Behind the make-up or the rubber mask we are free at last to express ourselves in the freest fashion possible.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
inject me a cure
now I betcha are wondering what the hell is the delay in my blogging? well I'll tell you what? Everything, first off 'Blows' transcended into my reoccurring autumn pneumonia. I can't just have a little flu in which I was doing my best to treat in a holistic way, but it settled it's juicy phlegm filled self into my chest and now I wheeze and rattle instead of sniffle and sneeze.
Going to the doctor is not one of my favorite trips because I am so damn cheap, I cannot stand spending any money in order for someone to prance me around on a scale (and then find out that all of the hours and hours of hard work I've been putting into trying to lose weight...well never mind!), then take my blood pressure (to be told that it's excellent - NO SHIT) and then jam a thermometer into my mouth an tell me I don't have a fever.
No shit again, I could have told you all of these things.
Gone are the days when I could telephone my family doctor (Dr. J who delivered me, took care of me all of my childhood too!) and say, "hey I have this an this going on" and he'd just call the Walgreens and my mom could go and pick up my antibiotics.
Instead now I have to go through this fucking dance, sitting in a waiting room with a dozen or more other sick people with God only knows what diseases that they are possibly transferring to the rest of us. If you don't feel well and you are waiting you really just want to lay your head down and die but instead they have televisions blaring loudly in a couple of different corners of the room. The noise from public service announcements and advertisements for different medical treatments pounds in your ears, and the screech of whiny babies/children that are there are grating on your last nerve.
Don't get me started on how parents today have not taught their children to cover their mouth/noses when they sneeze or cough.
When you are finally taken back to the patient rooms, you go through the whole weight/blood pressure/temperature situation the nurse then asks you about your symptoms and what medications you are taking and then you wait again for the doctor to come in, only to repeat yourself all over again.
This is the part I don't think I understand. i don't want to repeat myself 2x. I still want to lay my head down and die, I want a magic wand to be waved over my head and tiny sparkles of happy confetti dust glitter around me causing me to miraculously stand up and bounce around the room completely healed!
.....now it's been at least a week since I started this blog. This is a sad situation, me, the woman of many words and I can't even get them down because I just plain feel like shit. I'm nearly through with the antibiotics the doctor prescribed but now my Fibromyalgia is flared up again.
I always hurt, let's remember that but sometimes it gets so bad there isn't a word that exceeds misery.
today I have had more sleep in a single day than I usually achieve in a week's time!
Going to the doctor is not one of my favorite trips because I am so damn cheap, I cannot stand spending any money in order for someone to prance me around on a scale (and then find out that all of the hours and hours of hard work I've been putting into trying to lose weight...well never mind!), then take my blood pressure (to be told that it's excellent - NO SHIT) and then jam a thermometer into my mouth an tell me I don't have a fever.
No shit again, I could have told you all of these things.
Gone are the days when I could telephone my family doctor (Dr. J who delivered me, took care of me all of my childhood too!) and say, "hey I have this an this going on" and he'd just call the Walgreens and my mom could go and pick up my antibiotics.
Instead now I have to go through this fucking dance, sitting in a waiting room with a dozen or more other sick people with God only knows what diseases that they are possibly transferring to the rest of us. If you don't feel well and you are waiting you really just want to lay your head down and die but instead they have televisions blaring loudly in a couple of different corners of the room. The noise from public service announcements and advertisements for different medical treatments pounds in your ears, and the screech of whiny babies/children that are there are grating on your last nerve.
Don't get me started on how parents today have not taught their children to cover their mouth/noses when they sneeze or cough.
When you are finally taken back to the patient rooms, you go through the whole weight/blood pressure/temperature situation the nurse then asks you about your symptoms and what medications you are taking and then you wait again for the doctor to come in, only to repeat yourself all over again.
This is the part I don't think I understand. i don't want to repeat myself 2x. I still want to lay my head down and die, I want a magic wand to be waved over my head and tiny sparkles of happy confetti dust glitter around me causing me to miraculously stand up and bounce around the room completely healed!
.....now it's been at least a week since I started this blog. This is a sad situation, me, the woman of many words and I can't even get them down because I just plain feel like shit. I'm nearly through with the antibiotics the doctor prescribed but now my Fibromyalgia is flared up again.
I always hurt, let's remember that but sometimes it gets so bad there isn't a word that exceeds misery.
today I have had more sleep in a single day than I usually achieve in a week's time!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Blows
The night before in the wee hours of the morning while tapping away on my itty bitty little netbook on the networking site which is highly addicting (Facebook) one of my gaming companions instant messaged me to see how things were going.
We frequently will pass some time between pillaging and whacking other mafioso, collecting imaginary greenbacks (in my mind dreaming of fingering each of those lovely Federal Reserve Notes) and amassing our deadly armory.
Our conversations floating between our beloved spouses, local weather, work or play, musical interests and our great affection for animals.
The friend also happens to be a bit more mature than I am, and takes on the role of big brother at times and this night definitely was one of them - he'd decided to start in on me when I told him how I was feeling crummy.
Now C'mon! If y'all haven't figured it out by now, I'm going to tell you in black and white. I am pigheaded and will do and say whatever I please. There's no pussyfooting around with me. We have one life to live, I want to live it if I can.
There are days when even I know I can't live life to the max so I'll curl up in a fetal position with the sheets pulled up tight to my chin only a portion of my face peering out. The blinds swiveled shut, if there are drapes on the window they are pulled shut and if need be I'll even toss a blanket over the rod to bring an extra cover of darkness to cocoon me in obscurity.
These are the times when I've laden the bed between our pillows with a few bottled waters, a box of Kleenex and even some of my favorite snacks to reach for between naps. I will stay in bed as long as physically possible waiting until my bladder is nearly ready to burst like some forgotten water-bed bladder attached to the garden hose too long.
The Tuesday before while at work, a gal from the home office came down for one of the many meetings the husband has here in town, she was a little under the weather and later released information that her son was positive for the H1N1 flu (oh yes that would be Miss Piggy's affliction - the Swine flu).
The media is toting this as quite a deadly bastard of a flu, of course if you ask me ANY flu can be just as deadly however its the individuals response to it that matters the most. How we fight off germs, how we rest, what types of vitamins we get and such.
By Thursday morning the husband was feeling crappy, he started off that morning saying he had a sore throat. Now my darling husband is a bit of a whiner about sniffles but hey, so am I! The two of us need to have the world's smallest violin constantly playing for us.
He doesn't usually mention his throat though, so I figured that this was the real thing and he did look a bit more tired than routine.
Like a good drone he went to work anyhow, Thursdays are hard days
Friday night he was sweaty and came straight home and went to bed for 6.5 hours.
All the while this is going on I'd been going on as planned with the 'Cleanse'. Hard work by the time day 2.5 was upon me and I was reading some material about how this was actually a very poor idea. Now ya know, I'm sorta the type of person to just jump right in and do whatever I want - I didn't consult my doctor first. That would have been the best idea but fuck it. He'd have said I'm a crazy fool.
It wouldn't have been the first time for that either kind of comment either. (he's still telling me to ditch the cats)
After doing my reading I came to the conclusion that I'd better get some food in me before I did further damage to the very organ I was trying to cleanse (kidney) and woke up husband who was doing another late night nap session, stuffing him full with a tasty double cheeseburger late in the evening.
Sunday morning rolls around, mind you I've kept my distance from Mr Sick and guess what? I have a fricking sore throat! He's coughing and I feel like someone has hit me with a shovel upside my head. What a pounding headache, WTF did I do to deserve this? Been minding my own business, not causing any trouble - not sharing any spit with anyone and I'm a neurotic hand washer so there's no reason for this crap to find its way into my nose or mouth.
Getting back to my friend he says to me in quite the accusatory way, which I'm drawing this heavy drama and tone out of the text that I did it to myself from my fasting. The fasting lowered my immune system, so it's no wonder I got sick.
Now really, did the flu climb up my sore bung hole through my intestinal tract to finally settle itself in my chest and sinus' and torment me?
I'm on this health kick, every day I hoof my chunky ham hock legs around the neighborhood for 60 minutes streaming music through cheap ear phones that make my ears sweat, I refuse to put chemicals into my body until I feel I'm at death's door. For the time being it's only fluids, vitamins and my new favorite drink - Kombucha!
Tonight I think I'm going to get some Vicks Vapo-Rub cuz my nose and chest are like stuffed green peppers. I hate Vick's with a passion, just grosses me out to smear that greasy crap on my chest and then it gets slimy and tacky throughout the night. Starts to get your shirt mushy and stains it up and smudges your sheets when you lay in bed.
However, I feel terrible and when I try to take a deep breath one side of my nostrils flares the other does nothing at all. My nose is so stopped up on one side, the other is running a 10k marathon.
In the middle of the night when my sniffer starts dribbling I'll grab a square of tissue and wad it up and smash it into my nostril. I hate waking up with snot running down into my lips.
That will be as far as I'm going to give in on the chemicals - I absolutely must breathe, this flu shit really blows!
We frequently will pass some time between pillaging and whacking other mafioso, collecting imaginary greenbacks (in my mind dreaming of fingering each of those lovely Federal Reserve Notes) and amassing our deadly armory.
Our conversations floating between our beloved spouses, local weather, work or play, musical interests and our great affection for animals.
The friend also happens to be a bit more mature than I am, and takes on the role of big brother at times and this night definitely was one of them - he'd decided to start in on me when I told him how I was feeling crummy.
Now C'mon! If y'all haven't figured it out by now, I'm going to tell you in black and white. I am pigheaded and will do and say whatever I please. There's no pussyfooting around with me. We have one life to live, I want to live it if I can.
There are days when even I know I can't live life to the max so I'll curl up in a fetal position with the sheets pulled up tight to my chin only a portion of my face peering out. The blinds swiveled shut, if there are drapes on the window they are pulled shut and if need be I'll even toss a blanket over the rod to bring an extra cover of darkness to cocoon me in obscurity.
These are the times when I've laden the bed between our pillows with a few bottled waters, a box of Kleenex and even some of my favorite snacks to reach for between naps. I will stay in bed as long as physically possible waiting until my bladder is nearly ready to burst like some forgotten water-bed bladder attached to the garden hose too long.
The Tuesday before while at work, a gal from the home office came down for one of the many meetings the husband has here in town, she was a little under the weather and later released information that her son was positive for the H1N1 flu (oh yes that would be Miss Piggy's affliction - the Swine flu).
The media is toting this as quite a deadly bastard of a flu, of course if you ask me ANY flu can be just as deadly however its the individuals response to it that matters the most. How we fight off germs, how we rest, what types of vitamins we get and such.
By Thursday morning the husband was feeling crappy, he started off that morning saying he had a sore throat. Now my darling husband is a bit of a whiner about sniffles but hey, so am I! The two of us need to have the world's smallest violin constantly playing for us.
He doesn't usually mention his throat though, so I figured that this was the real thing and he did look a bit more tired than routine.
Like a good drone he went to work anyhow, Thursdays are hard days
Friday night he was sweaty and came straight home and went to bed for 6.5 hours.
All the while this is going on I'd been going on as planned with the 'Cleanse'. Hard work by the time day 2.5 was upon me and I was reading some material about how this was actually a very poor idea. Now ya know, I'm sorta the type of person to just jump right in and do whatever I want - I didn't consult my doctor first. That would have been the best idea but fuck it. He'd have said I'm a crazy fool.
It wouldn't have been the first time for that either kind of comment either. (he's still telling me to ditch the cats)
After doing my reading I came to the conclusion that I'd better get some food in me before I did further damage to the very organ I was trying to cleanse (kidney) and woke up husband who was doing another late night nap session, stuffing him full with a tasty double cheeseburger late in the evening.
Sunday morning rolls around, mind you I've kept my distance from Mr Sick and guess what? I have a fricking sore throat! He's coughing and I feel like someone has hit me with a shovel upside my head. What a pounding headache, WTF did I do to deserve this? Been minding my own business, not causing any trouble - not sharing any spit with anyone and I'm a neurotic hand washer so there's no reason for this crap to find its way into my nose or mouth.
Getting back to my friend he says to me in quite the accusatory way, which I'm drawing this heavy drama and tone out of the text that I did it to myself from my fasting. The fasting lowered my immune system, so it's no wonder I got sick.
Now really, did the flu climb up my sore bung hole through my intestinal tract to finally settle itself in my chest and sinus' and torment me?
I'm on this health kick, every day I hoof my chunky ham hock legs around the neighborhood for 60 minutes streaming music through cheap ear phones that make my ears sweat, I refuse to put chemicals into my body until I feel I'm at death's door. For the time being it's only fluids, vitamins and my new favorite drink - Kombucha!
Tonight I think I'm going to get some Vicks Vapo-Rub cuz my nose and chest are like stuffed green peppers. I hate Vick's with a passion, just grosses me out to smear that greasy crap on my chest and then it gets slimy and tacky throughout the night. Starts to get your shirt mushy and stains it up and smudges your sheets when you lay in bed.
However, I feel terrible and when I try to take a deep breath one side of my nostrils flares the other does nothing at all. My nose is so stopped up on one side, the other is running a 10k marathon.
In the middle of the night when my sniffer starts dribbling I'll grab a square of tissue and wad it up and smash it into my nostril. I hate waking up with snot running down into my lips.
That will be as far as I'm going to give in on the chemicals - I absolutely must breathe, this flu shit really blows!
Friday, October 2, 2009
48 more and pass the Boudreaux's Butt Paste
hungry yet?
Not entirely.
When I'm home alone I really have no desire to eat. Floating about the house, tapping on the keyboard, petting the cats, maybe washing laundry or reading a book or zoning out ..I just don't stop to think about eating because it doesn't interest me enough to expend the energy to MAKE something for me alone.
Sure my stomach is growling a little bit, getting that clutching feeling sort of like the cramps (ladies, you know what I'm saying) but it's tolerable. However I'm not having this awful need to scarf down a plateful of mashed potatoes yet. It's only been 48 hours which is hardly a long time seeing how there were times when I've been sick with the flu and unable to keep food down for days.
Maybe I would choke down some chicken broth or a few saltines, (jello too) but essentially we all know when we have the flu no one wants to eat we just want the blissful sleep of the dead.
The night before I joked that I should put myself into a Benedryl coma for the next several days to help me get through my fasting but ummm that could be really bad since the effects of the "Cleanse" really takes you to a place that should not be IN your bed.
Makes you wonder about the sanity people have when they purposely make themselves defecate for days and days, doesn't it? The saying Your Full of Shit goes a long way in situations like this, seriously if we stop and think about it we really are.
Research states that our colon and intestinal tract holds several extra pounds of fecal matter, a regular flushing is quite healthy to do a couple of times a year. These new age hippy freaks that talk about it (going for colonic- or colonic irrigation) really swear that they feel so fantastic afterward doing them.
I bet y'all didn't know one of the earliest proponents of the colonic was the founder of the Kelloggs cereal company? He frequently lectured about the therapy of it's use for many conditions including depression and arthritis! (no shit - pun intended!)
It was said that Elvis had upwards of 40#s of dung in him and even John Wayne did too - however if you check Snopes.com this is all bullshit (hahaha I am enjoying my use of the word crap today).
John Wayne's family would not even allow an autopsy to be done so no conclusive evidence to this rumor, but it really can't be true.
Elvis did have quite a bit of poo in him, his intestinal tract was stretched out far more than the average person due to his ridiculous eating habits of fried, greasy foods (can I get a grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich somebody?)
Colonics are used for the prevention of constipation, stops harmful bacteria and yeast growth, and they cleanse stagnant toxins absorbing into the bloodstream through the colon wall (that's called autointoxication).
Butt (hahaha) I'm not shoving a tube up my ass by a stranger and blowing fluids in only to have someone massage my gut and then report to me what color and consistency my turds are as they flow back out. Instead I'm popping a few pills several times a day that are chock-full of weird stuff I'd never put in my mouth as a meal.
This afternoon my stomach rebelled a little bit, I've never been a happy pill taker. I'm actually taking a candida cleanse (that's yeast) and a liver cleanse (hey, okay so I drink a lil bit. no harm trying to reverse some of the mistakes of Crown Royal) and the colon cleanse..those are 3 gigantic pills PLUS I also have my gazillion other pills for my various issues.
Anyhoooo - I take a great big ol' swig of water and try to choke down one of these horse pills and it gets about half way down and the next thing I know - GACK it's coming back up. WOOSH!! Water and some stomach fluid with smelly bile come flying out.
I even manage to do the 'out the nose' trick like you would if you heard a great joke - and I'm going full-on projectile squirting across the living room as I sit on the sofa where I've set up my shop of pill horrors.
Not to be outdone, I have an audience (as usual) and here come rushing several well padded naked feet to my rescue to sniff and delicately taste my none-to-delicious explosion.
what's in this crap?
Fennel seed powder (I hate fennel), licorice root powder (I hate licorice), Irish Moss root powder (what the fuck is that?), a couple of barks (woof woof -- fucking TREES?) a couple of unpronounceable fruit powders, marshmallow root powder..huh? I thought marshmallow was yummy puffy Sta-Puft man from Ghost Busters! red raspberry leaf powder..well okay that's not so weird and cayenne powder..but hey wait - I just figured out I'm nightshade sensitive and cayenne is a nightshade.
Fuck me raw..oh wait. that's what this stuff is doing to my bum!
pass me the Boudreaux's Butt Paste
Not entirely.
When I'm home alone I really have no desire to eat. Floating about the house, tapping on the keyboard, petting the cats, maybe washing laundry or reading a book or zoning out ..I just don't stop to think about eating because it doesn't interest me enough to expend the energy to MAKE something for me alone.
Sure my stomach is growling a little bit, getting that clutching feeling sort of like the cramps (ladies, you know what I'm saying) but it's tolerable. However I'm not having this awful need to scarf down a plateful of mashed potatoes yet. It's only been 48 hours which is hardly a long time seeing how there were times when I've been sick with the flu and unable to keep food down for days.
Maybe I would choke down some chicken broth or a few saltines, (jello too) but essentially we all know when we have the flu no one wants to eat we just want the blissful sleep of the dead.
The night before I joked that I should put myself into a Benedryl coma for the next several days to help me get through my fasting but ummm that could be really bad since the effects of the "Cleanse" really takes you to a place that should not be IN your bed.
Makes you wonder about the sanity people have when they purposely make themselves defecate for days and days, doesn't it? The saying Your Full of Shit goes a long way in situations like this, seriously if we stop and think about it we really are.
Research states that our colon and intestinal tract holds several extra pounds of fecal matter, a regular flushing is quite healthy to do a couple of times a year. These new age hippy freaks that talk about it (going for colonic- or colonic irrigation) really swear that they feel so fantastic afterward doing them.
I bet y'all didn't know one of the earliest proponents of the colonic was the founder of the Kelloggs cereal company? He frequently lectured about the therapy of it's use for many conditions including depression and arthritis! (no shit - pun intended!)
It was said that Elvis had upwards of 40#s of dung in him and even John Wayne did too - however if you check Snopes.com this is all bullshit (hahaha I am enjoying my use of the word crap today).
John Wayne's family would not even allow an autopsy to be done so no conclusive evidence to this rumor, but it really can't be true.
Elvis did have quite a bit of poo in him, his intestinal tract was stretched out far more than the average person due to his ridiculous eating habits of fried, greasy foods (can I get a grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich somebody?)
Colonics are used for the prevention of constipation, stops harmful bacteria and yeast growth, and they cleanse stagnant toxins absorbing into the bloodstream through the colon wall (that's called autointoxication).
Butt (hahaha) I'm not shoving a tube up my ass by a stranger and blowing fluids in only to have someone massage my gut and then report to me what color and consistency my turds are as they flow back out. Instead I'm popping a few pills several times a day that are chock-full of weird stuff I'd never put in my mouth as a meal.
This afternoon my stomach rebelled a little bit, I've never been a happy pill taker. I'm actually taking a candida cleanse (that's yeast) and a liver cleanse (hey, okay so I drink a lil bit. no harm trying to reverse some of the mistakes of Crown Royal) and the colon cleanse..those are 3 gigantic pills PLUS I also have my gazillion other pills for my various issues.
Anyhoooo - I take a great big ol' swig of water and try to choke down one of these horse pills and it gets about half way down and the next thing I know - GACK it's coming back up. WOOSH!! Water and some stomach fluid with smelly bile come flying out.
I even manage to do the 'out the nose' trick like you would if you heard a great joke - and I'm going full-on projectile squirting across the living room as I sit on the sofa where I've set up my shop of pill horrors.
Not to be outdone, I have an audience (as usual) and here come rushing several well padded naked feet to my rescue to sniff and delicately taste my none-to-delicious explosion.
what's in this crap?
Fennel seed powder (I hate fennel), licorice root powder (I hate licorice), Irish Moss root powder (what the fuck is that?), a couple of barks (woof woof -- fucking TREES?) a couple of unpronounceable fruit powders, marshmallow root powder..huh? I thought marshmallow was yummy puffy Sta-Puft man from Ghost Busters! red raspberry leaf powder..well okay that's not so weird and cayenne powder..but hey wait - I just figured out I'm nightshade sensitive and cayenne is a nightshade.
Fuck me raw..oh wait. that's what this stuff is doing to my bum!
pass me the Boudreaux's Butt Paste
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