*WARNING: CONTAINS DISCUSSION ABOUT POOP*
Okay, so we discontinued the azathioprine after five miserable days of torture. I went to urgent care the day after and my pancreatic enzymes were just barely within normal range, which leads me to believe I did have pancreatitis and I just powered through it like a moron because that’s what I do. Within 48 hours of stopping, I felt a ton better. Then something strange happened.
I woke up one day, and I was hungry.
I ate normally that day, and the next, and then texted a friend because I couldn’t stop pooping. I’d had some issues with the azathioprine, it was like almost having diarrhea, but solid, but burning and painful. Now I was having NORMAL bowel movements, only I was having them like 2-3 times a day. She laughed and pointed out I was eating more, and that as I ate regularly, my body would regulate, and I’d join the land of the normal people, who poop once or twice a day.
This led to a momentary panic. See, the guy I’m seeing? We’ve made it 10 months without him ever being around when I’ve had a bowel movement. We’ve spent literally 2-3 nights together, and I haven’t had one, because I wasn’t hungry, and I wasn’t eating. All of a sudden my predictable constipation was gone. What was I going to do?
I did a stupid stupid thing.
The bowel movements were coming way too often, and I told myself if I took an Imodium, they would slow down. I wasn’t having diarrhea, but honestly, I shouldn’t have been going that often. Instead of letting my body figure out that it was okay to slow down the digestion train, I tried to coax it into behaving normally.
I saw the guy 2 times on Thursday but didn’t spend the night because he had plans. I ended up spending the night Saturday because we were going to do something, but it fell through. Now, on Thursday, I didn’t take meds, I just timed it so I saw him after going. Saturday was a different situation, so I went ahead and I took medication. I regretted it. I had a bowel movement Saturday, but it was painful and small. I was still eating normally, but made a second mistake I stopped eating as much. I also made a third mistake, and let myself get dehydrated.
Sunday I was depressed. I’d left the guys house on awkward terms, and my Saturday had been depressing. I walked around for hours, and just couldn’t shake the depression. I’d been forced to eat a pathetic breakfast, and then I’d walked for hours without more than dry cereal and a few sips of water. Later I ended up at the guys place, after admitting I was seriously depressed and didn’t want to be alone, but there was a three hour gap between him saying I could come over and actually going over to his place because he had some things to finish. I was so exhausted I passed out without even taking my meds, and woke up to take them, and offered to leave but he said he could stay. I woke up with horrible stomach pains, but hung around for an hour or so. (Yes we had sex, but it was kind of awkward to be honest. I got the feeling he didn’t really want to, and I was in the mood, but could have handled it myself when I got home, I just didn’t like leaving him hanging since we hadn’t fooled around the night before given the fact I’d passed out once he held me.)
So here I am, at my apartment, and I go to poop, and realize immediately I’m in trouble. Some stool comes out, but there is more, and it’s stuck. I know I’m impacted, and the question is, how bad is it? There have been times before when it’s just a painful bowel movement that takes a while, and there have been times I need to bust out the gloves and Vaseline. This was probably something better saved for a hospital, but I knew they wouldn’t sedate me because they refused to sedate me the last time. I thought about my walk yesterday an realized I hadn’t felt any bowel movements at all. Last night at the guy’s my lower intestines had kicked in like gangbusters out of nowhere. It was almost painful how hard they contracted. I realized that this was my body turning on and off because I’d reacted to depression and stress with not eating enough and walking around dehydrated.
It took several hours of screaming to fix the situation. I have 4 towels in my bathroom with poop on them, at least 8 pairs of disposable gloves, and there is vaseline on so many surfaces. For all the spoonies out there: I shat in my tub.
I shat in my tub.
I had read that a hot Epsom salt bath would help, and it did, but the cramps were so severe that I just couldn’t move, and little rabbit pebble poops, came out, in my tub.
This on top of the leakage I had going on around the blockage, it was too much. I sat down on the toilet, taking in the crap covered wreckage of my glorious bathroom, and sobbed. It’s late, but I have to clean it before I go to bed. I did eventually poop, and it was horrific. This just drives me the reality that I need a nutritionist and a gastroenterologist. The guy had concern when I told him I was sick today, but I didn’t elaborate. If we are not boyfriend and girlfriend, and there is no level of commitment, you do not get to know that I shat in my tub…and that I leaked fecal matter all over my bathroom.
There was one point when I was curled up fetal position on something that didn’t have shit on it, and I realized that even if we were serious, if he and I lived together, or he’d been over when this had hit, I’d have sent him away. There are some lines that just can’t be crossed, and I have to say shitting all over the bathroom may just be mine.
“Can you go see a movie or something?”
“I’ve shat in the tub.”