Wednesday, 9 June 2010

Megaton Poo Explosion………

I awoke this morning at around 4am to a horrendous rumbling noise that resembled a freight train hurtling through my bedroom. It was only after a rubbed the sleep from my mind that I realised that the rumbling noise was actually coming from my nether regions.

Being the medical genius that I am, I immediately knew that something was wrong.

I shot from my bed and ran to the toilet just in time before my rear end exploded in what can only be described as “Hells gruel.”

My Irritable Bowel Syndrome was back and it was in a foul mood (it had gone past irritable and moved into incandescent rage).

I have suffered with IBS since I was about 18. I fecking hate it, I really do. It’s not an illness, it’s not a virus, it’s just an evil thing that won’t leave me alone.

For those who are lucky enough to not suffer from this let me try and describe the sheer agony that it can bring. Many people believe that it is just having a dicky tummy, it’s not. Imagine someone grabbing your lower bowel with both hands and slowly twisting it. Couple this with bouts of constipation, or sudden explosive mega poo bombs, and you have got yourself a regular toilet based party going on.

Certain foods can trigger an attack (pizza kills me), but the main source of kick starting a session of me sweating and rolling around in agony is stress.

As I am male, and also British, I don’t emote. I have emotions, but they are carefully locked away, buried deep within my subconscious to be unearthed many years later by my therapist, or to take shape in the form of a big pissy ulcer, gurgling away in the centre of my stomach like an evil baby. So on the outside I am a picture of calmness, while inside, all my rage, fear, frustration, and general negative emotions sit astride my digestive system, banging away like the cast members of Stomp.

So, this morning. I ran to the loo in about 2 seconds, and sat on it with a relieved sigh. I then began what I call my “Irritable Bowel Dance” which basically consists of me wriggling like an eel on the toilet, banging both feet on the floor, and using language last seen in The Exorcist.

Liquid hot magma was expelled from my body, causing the lower half of my body to feel as if I had flames shooting out of it. I felt like a firework. So naturally my cat felt this would be an ideal time to wander in and see what all the commotion was about. I don’t know if any of you have tried to pass rocket fuel through your anus whilst being observed by a cat. It’s very disconcerting.

Get out!” I hissed at her, resisting the urge to follow that up with “Run!”

She naturally took no notice and decided that this would be an opportune time to clean her genitals. It was nice to see that my searing pain was causing her some concern. She ran out after I threw toilet roll at her head.

I have taken the day off work today. The combination of no sleep and having an arse that resembled the Japanese flag meant that I couldn’t face sitting in pain at my office chair. So I have just been lying round with a hot water bottle clamped to my lower belly like a menstruating teenager.

My Irritable Bowel Syndrome has caused me one of my most shameful episodes in my entire life. I debated if I should include it in this blog, but then thought that I am never going to meet any of you, and if you judge me from the one thing I am going to tell you about, well, that means you are all bad people. All of you.

Oh God, here goes.

I once shit myself in a Subway.

There, I said it. I can admit it.

I. Once shit myself. In a Subway.

It’s not as bad as masturbating in a charity shop (what a weekend that was!), but it comes pretty darn close.

Everything was fine. I had no indication of the nightmare that was to come. My IBS was sleeping like a well fed dog. I was standing at one of the side tables with Kates, eating my sub, when all of a sudden I turned white.

“Something terrible has happened.” I whispered to her, my sub half raised to my mouth.

“Have they put mayo on your food again?” she asked me.

“No, this is much worse than that.” I hissed back.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have to leave right now.” I said, walking towards the exit.

“But what about your food? And why are you walking funny?”

We stood outside on the cold London street.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Kates asked me.

“I’ve pooed myself.”

“WHAT?”

“I’ve pooed myself.”

“What do you mean you’ve pooed yourself?”

For a moment I was a little confused.

“I don’t know how to make it any clearer than I have. I’ve.....pooed myself.”

“Oh, what are we going to do?”

And there was the rub. I was stuck in London, miles from home, with no money to buy any replacement clothes, and my trousers had just exploded.

This was my walking nightmare.

Kates suddenly realised that Selfridges was just around the corner (regular readers will know that this was the very posh department store that I temped in over Christmas) and suggested I could try and sort myself out in their toilets.

So began the slowest and most uncomfortable walk of my life. I don’t know if any of you have tried walking anywhere after you have just soiled yourselves? I seriously wouldn’t recommend it.

Finally I arrived at the store and hurried my way in to the public toilet. It was a vast cavernous hall that was thankfully empty. I nipped in to one of the stalls and surveyed the damage. If my reaction was anything to go by, I am so going to be rubbish at changing nappies. I poked my head out of the stall and looked around. Still empty. I dumped my underpants in the trash can used for paper towels (and may I apologise to the man who had to empty it) and tried to clean my trouser in the sink. My thinking was that I was pretty far away from the door, so I would hear it if anyone came in and I could pop them back on so no one had to see my testicles.

Did I mention that I’m deaf?

I know the chances of you reading this are slim to anorexic, but I would also like to apologise to the gentleman who came in with his young son to find me hopping around on one leg trying to hastily put my trousers back on with my “bits” resembling excited puppies that were happy to see me.

No one needs to see that.

No one.

The train journey home was “interesting.”

There is something incredibly liberating about standing on a packed train in rush hour wearing trousers filled with your own effluence. Social niceties generally go out of the window. In the end I just didn’t care anymore. All I wanted was a shower, clean clothes, and my bed.

It takes me an hour to get home.

A whole fucking hour.

So there you go. There’s nothing more you need to know about me. That’s my most embarrassing moment, laid out for you all to read and take on board.

Judge away. I don’t mind. I shit myself once. Who hasn’t?

No, seriously, who hasn’t?

Right?

Right???

I hate my life.

20 comments:

Lo said...

Happens to everyone, doesn't it?
We still love ya'.

jules said...

Oh Dan. Thank you so much for sharing. I mean, I'm not laughing at you, but you told it in such a funny way. I had a bout with IBS once when I had a ton of stress in my left about 3 years ago. Everytime I ate I had the situation you had this morning and so I could only eat very small portions while in public to avoid monstrosities such as your 2nd story. That was my worst fear. I'm sure it has happened to MANY. IBS is a bitch! Hope you are feeling better soon!

Lynn said...

I struggle with IBS, too. At first, when I didn't know what it was, it was the worst. I couldn't eat anything--there was no time between something hitting my stomach and the most horrible cramps. But about a month or two later, I was doing medical transcription for a doctor who had a lot of IBS patients, and he kept suggesting Align, a probiotic sold over the counter, and cranberry tablets. I also started removing things from my diet (straight milk is the worst, and red meat), and between the diet changes and the Align, I rarely have episodes anymore. A bit near my time of the month (TMI, but you're married!)and when I'm stressed out, but not nearly as bad, and I can take precautions. IBS is one of those things that isn't spoken of much, but should be, because there are many, many folks out there who suffer silently with it out of embarassment. It stinketh. Hope you feel better soon--and if you can get Align over there, I'd urge you to give it a try. The Align and cranberry combo taken every day really REALLY helped a lot. Surprisingly so.

Millions Of Atoms Man said...

Did I ever tell you that "Dicky Tummy" was my alias when I worked for the CIA?

I didn't?

"Son of Sam is at it again. Put Tummy on the case. *deep cigarette inhale* Dicky Tummy."

In all seriousness though, couldn't you have used the word "shat" anywhere in this post? It would have been a perfect opportunity, and it is one of my favorite words.

I love you too.

The Vegetable Assassin said...

Dude. I would like to offer you my sincerest apologies for laughing out loud at that, because I appreciate it is not something you enjoyed at all and that it must have been excruciating and somewhat stinky, but I like to think that you did it for the blog story later. Because you were only thinking of us, no? :) Feel better soon. And stay near the lav, ok?

Eva Gallant said...

Oh, Dan. How awful for you. My hubby had that happen once in Myrtle Beach, South Carolin when we were on vacation. Luckily, we had clean clothes in the trunk in a suitcase, but he had to do his best to clean up in a McDonald's rest room. Hope you feel better soon!

Tony Spunk said...

Hey there man. Much as I feel total sympathy for you in your moment of plight in Subway, I reckon it was probably the sight of Jared and his unfeasibly huge pants that set your belly off doing its evil thing. Or don't you have old Jared over in the Queen's land? He's a smug, fat dude who looks like he bothers dogs. Anyways, I feel for ya, I truly do. And I only laughed out of concern, you dig? Concern. Peace out bro, and give your butt a rest.

Miss OverThinker said...

First off, hats off for you for sharing it with everyone even behind the walls of anonymity. Have had occasional problems with very mild IBS but nothing like what you describe.. you have my full sympathy Dan..

mapstew said...

My family won the top accolade at the IBS awards this year!

And yeah, who hasn't shit hisself?

Great story! :¬)

Mr. Condescending said...

Dan this is one of the funniest posts I have ever read. Of course I'm completely sorry it had to happen to you but you told the story so damn humorously.

"Something terrible has happened"

Hahahha you are my hero today Dan.

The mad woman behind the blog said...

Okay. I think I need to read one of these posts any time I feel the need to nosh. B/C YOU JUST KILLED IT.

My trousers thank you.

hope said...

You know most women wouldn't admit this...okay, so I was a little girl, but I hadn't a clue as to why my intestines were suddenly attacking me during a 4th grade math test.

I remember the walk of shame to the car...like a pygmy elephant with a limp. I was wearing a grey wool dress...to this day, I have grey wool.

If you start a club, you get to be President. Feel better? :)

Long dark hair, blue eyes said...

taking the piss out of IBS. well done!

Jana said...

Hi Dan, nice to see that you have not been reduced to writing about experiences that actually do not make me cringe for you. It must be hell to live with IBS but I am glad to see that it hasn’t taken away your ability to crack jokes about it. This is what keeps me coming back for more…

Dan said...

Lo- Thanks matey, nice to know my anal explosions can still keep my friends near.

Jules- I'm sorry you have suffered from this as well. I tried to make it amusing, but if you have gone through the pain, it’s not very funny at all.

Lynn- Thank you such much for the detailed and helpful reply. I don't think we have Align, but I will have a hunt around and see if there is something similar. Thanks again matey, that was brilliant advice.

MOM- I will make sure I include it in my next three posts, just for you. And I'm sending man love back in your face. IN YOUR FACE MAN! IN. YOUR. FACE!

Veggie Ninja- Yeah, I was thinking of you all the moment it happened. Just mock my misfortune why don’t ya?

Eva- Tell your hubby he has my sympathy and understanding. He is now a member of the club.

My Spunk Soul Brother- The butt has now levelled out and is simmering gently.

Miss OTT- Thanks lovey. Your kind words have soothed my behind.

Mapstew- Please say you have. PLEASE!

Mr Con- Always here to help my friendly. Tune in next week for when I pissed myself at a Christening.

Mad Lady- Nosh means something else here in the UK. I had to read that five times before the penny dropped.

Hope- Can I be called the Prince of Poo? If I can be called The Prince of Poo then we have a deal and I will become the leader of any gang you want. Hope you are well matey?

Long and dark- I think it ripped the piss out of me to be honest.

Jana- And very welcome you are here as well Jana. How have you been? Not seen you around in ages.

hope said...

I'm okay seem to be a terrible proof reader. :) I meant I HATE grey wool.

Although Auntie kindly chose her bank to be in charge of her estate, since she didn't die a gazillonaire, they've decided to turn it back over...to me.

Oh the irony...she named the bank so I wouldn't have to do the paperwork. Right now I'm up to me arse in little old lady dust collecting trinkets and furniture to distribute.

Yes, you may be the Prince of Poo, your Grace. Shall we get ye a toilet plunder for a scepter and a roll of toilet paper for a crown?

AlpHa Buttonpusher said...

If there ever was an appropriate time to LMAO it is now. Long live the King!

JenJen said...

Honey This is a crack up. I have a little plumbing problem myself...and I have shit myself without even knowing I did, until....I did.

Awesome.

Kate said...

Oh God I feel so bad but I am still laughing. Oh Dan that's too funny. Thanks for sharing.

Kate xx

aladdinsane12 said...

ok, i have come CLOSE to shitting myself, but have never actually done it. one time i was so close, though, that i seriously considered getting out of my car and taking a dump in someone's front lawn. for real.