Just another shitty day

So I promised myself I would make every effort to update my blog at least once weekly, and strive to keep it on a fairly regular schedule; aiming for every Monday. It's been a long day of errands and chores, and quite frankly, I'm tuckered out. BUT, I promised. So, here goes. I thought we could take a slight detour from the previous posts and go for a slightly more amusing story.

Throughout the entire pre-cancer diagnosis and in the months to follow, I can't stress enough just how bad my bowel situation was. Now for anyone who is squeamish or uncomfortable hearing poop stories, you should probably just stop reading. But, for the rest of you, you have to consider that my cancer was in my colon, so a large majority of my stories revolve around pooping, or the lack thereof, or the overabundance thereof. Depends on which day, or sometimes hour, we are specifically discussing. This particular story takes place during a diarrhea stage. In addition to the abscess, and the cancer, I also endured an unfortunate bout of C-Diff. Twice, actually, but this was the first occurrence. If you are unfamiliar with c-diff - to sum up what I know about it - it's a naturally occurring bacteria found in the digestive tract of healthy, normally functioning digestive systems, with a much longer, harder to pronounce official scientific name. However, large doses of antibiotics kill off not only harmful bacteria in your system, but also the good ones. And sometimes, during such times, the normally harmless c-diff hanging out in your body all of a sudden turns into the kudzu of bacteria taking over and wreaking havoc on your body. Left unchecked, it can lead to hospitalization, and in rare cases, even death. The most obvious symptom is severe diarrhea. I was unaware at this point, that I even had c-diff, it wasn't diagnosed until later on. I just knew everything down there was completely screwed up and it made life miserable, and quite frankly, I never knew what to expect from day to day. It seemed to range from constipation to diarrhea and at times, within the same day.

On this particular day, I had both a CT Scan and MRI scheduled. My mom, being the absolute trooper that she is and has been, had driven me to the hospital, as was usually the case. We get there. They give me some large, 32 oz. cup of pre-CT liquid prep to drink and we get settled into the waiting room. You have to wait approximately one hour from the time you start drinking before you can do the CT. So, we are in there for awhile. They call me back for my CT. Everything goes fine, no hitches. Afterward, they take me back to a separate, kind of private waiting room, while I wait to get my MRI. It was cold, so they gave me a nice, warm blanket to wrap up in. I'm sitting in this room, alone, that was, eh, maybe bigger than your standard walk-in closet. There's a TV on the wall across from my chair and a bathroom about 10 feet or so to my right. I'm sitting there, wrapped in my blanket, purse in my lap, watching whatever was on the tube, patiently waiting. THEN IT HITS ME. My stomach rolled over on itself. I panicked. I was wrapped up all snugly, and I couldn't move. I am frantically trying to unravel myself, finally manage to get the blanket off me, flinging my purse in the floor, and make a mad, insane dash to the bathroom door. It's no more than ten feet. Ten small feet. I can make it.

I didn't make it. I barely managed to even get the door slammed behind me, when it's already starting to run down my leg. I half trip over the toilet and finish what has already begun. I finish my business and start to assess the situation. Without getting into anymore graphic detail than necessary, all I can say is that my lower half is pretty much shit soaked. Fortunately, my socks and shoes were spared, though two more seconds in that blanket would have most likely ruined them too. My panties and yoga pants are covered in poop. My legs are covered in poop. Watery, watery poop. First order of business, remove pants/panties and clean myself up. So I strip down to nothing but my t-shirt and hobble over to the sink where I clean up with soap, water and paper towels. Okay, I'm clean, now what? I look at my pile of clothes. There is no way they are salvageable. This is not a case of a spot or two here or there, I'm telling ya, they are covered. I hear shuffling feet in the small waiting room outside, most likely someone looking for me, I think. And probably wondering what the hell happened outside to cause such an Armageddon of blanket and purse. Perhaps I was kidnapped. I crack the door slightly and poke my head out. There's a male nurse standing in the room. "Ummmm, I'm gonna need some assistance." He asks me if I would like for him to get a female nurse. "Yes. That would be great." I close the door. And I stand there. In my t-shirt and socks that I had put back on.

A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door, and she asks if she can come in. "Yes." She opens the door and there I am. T-shirt and socks. Just standing there. Feeling a bit shell-shocked and of course, completely embarrassed. "I shit myself." Now, there may have been more eloquent ways of explaining the situation, but that's honestly the only thing I could to say. I mean, well, that's what happened. No two ways about it.

God bless medical professionals. They have seen it all, and absolutely nothing seems to faze them. She never even blinked twice; just asked me if I would like a pair of hospital pants (scrubs). Hospital pants!!!!!! YES, YES, and More YES. I had never even thought about hospital pants as a viable option to my current predicament. I tell her yes, please, and thank you. Just a few moments later, I was dressed again. Granted, hospital pants are a one-size-fits-all kind of deal, and these easily could have fit a 300 pound grown man, and at this point, I'm not even a buck-oh-five soaking wet. But whatever. They are clean and they cover my bare bottom. I'm thrilled. I dispose of my old clothes in the trash and go in for my MRI. All ends well, and I gather my purse, and walk out to the main waiting room to meet my mom.

Her first words to me? "Where are your pants???"

"Weeeeellllllllll....... it's a long story."