You're so full of it

Last week I mentioned that I would do this post. And I have finally got around to it.

Anyway, as I said before, this post was inspired by Beth's story about her mom and poop.

Many years ago, I lived in Madison, Wisconsin (I've written several posts about what this was like, you can find them in my categories here). This was after Rex and Katie had both moved out (these are fake names. I do know a Katie now and she is a wonderful person) and it was just Barb and I remaining.

Now we were broke. Our dream house that was so cheap when you were dividing the rent by four people was now not so cheap because our roommates had abandoned us. One because he was a complete lying asshole, the other because she got knocked up by one out of seven or eight men and had moved back to Minnesota because, get this, welfare was better there. Yeah, that's great. Let the taxpayers pay for your irresponsibility. So Barb and I tried very hard to make ends meet. This involved eating a lot of potatoes, Ramen noodles and when we really wanted to splurge, I could make a pretty decent coffee cake out of Jiffy's apple spice muffin mix.

On the day of my story, Barb hasn't been feeling well for a few days. She's not really sure what's wrong but her stomach really hurts. We are worried about what might be wrong. She asks me to make her egg salad sandwiches. Keem will laugh if she reads this but I actually did most of the cooking. So I make the sandwiches, watching Barb as she lies on the couch, groaning in pain.

She eats her sandwiches and we talk about her options. She has a fever and her stomach is hard to the touch. We are both concerned that this could be appendicitis but neither of us can remember where the appendix is located. Finally, when she just can't take the pain anymore, we decide that she needs to go to the hospital, something we were trying to avoid because she doesn't have insurance.

At this time, I am really wishing I have a driver's licence. But I don't, so it up to Barb to drive herself to the hospital. We pull into the parking lot and Barb suddenly opens her door and throws up on the pavement. This is when I figure she's a bit delirious because she turns to me and accuses me of grinding up glass and putting it into the egg salad. She knows I'm trying to kill her. I eventually calm her down and we head into the emergency room.

She is whisked away and I wait in the appropriately named waiting room. Alternately pacing and writing a letter to a friend of mine about how worried I am. Finally, after what seems like days but was probably only an hour, an extremely attractive young man comes out and introduces himself as Doctor Hottie (okay, yeah, obviously not his name but can't remember what it was) and tells me that Barb wants to see me.

He brings me to her "room" (small cubicle seperated by curtains from the rest of the emergency room) and there she is, lying pale in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors. Dr. Hottie asks me to sit down and explains that I'm in there because, while I am not family, I am the only person Barb has to help take care of her. He starts talking about a lot of things that Barb doesn't have (it's not appendicitis, it's not cancer, that's all well and good but what the hell is wrong with her!) and then gestures to the X-rays on the wall.

He points out how these X-rays are of Barb's stomach and the glorious lower intestines. Joy. Then he motions to this dark shadow. "As you can see, this mass starts here and extends up to here." I stare at the X-ray blankly. "What's the mass?" I ask.

"Well, as it turns out, Barb is constipated. This mass is fecal matter that she has not been able to expel. This is what caused the stomach pain and the fever. We're giving her an IV to help with the dehydration she's suffering from and am going to provide her with an extra strong stool softener and some Milk of Magnesia. She will be okay, it's just going to take a few days."

I look at Barb. She looks back at me. It's horrible but both of us can't help but laugh. I turn to Dr. Hottie. "So what you're saying is that this is because she can't poop? That's it?"

"Yes," he says. "Barb is, literally, full of shit, if you want to use the laymen's term."

The moral of this story is that, if you cannot expel fecal matter, maybe you should take some Milk of Magnesia or go and see a doctor. And that way, you won't end up in the hospital with tubes coming out of everywhere with a hot Emergency Room doctor telling you that you're full of it.

Somehow this seemed a lot funnier when it happened. Oh, well, what are you going to do? You will be pleased to know that Barb did end up recovering several days later.

Anyway, have a great day. Talk to you all later.

Previous Comments:

At 5:01 AM, Weary Hag said...
DM, now THAT is an embarrassing ailment. Ewwww. You just reminded me of another post and nooooo, it's not quite about constipation. :)Funny post Dana... Good job. Carol
At 10:14 AM, Anonymous said...
Dana,That was a good post, that was very funny. I have heard so many different stories about things like that, and they are all either funny or gross. I loved your post, I really did and I miss seeing you in person.Take care....and I love you Dad.