Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on July 20, 2010

Hey! Lookee here! STILL TALKING ABOUT BOWEL MOVEMENTS!

So last we left, I was sidelined with the Kristin Johnsons and buying all the toilet paper Target had on the shelves. Things did get better. After a weekend spent in bed doing nothing and eating very bland things, things seemed to be getting back to normal.

(Side note: My mom doesn’t like to call them the KJs because she was hoping I’d be well known for something more than loose stool in my lifetime.)

And then last Thursday came. I didn’t think too much of it when I pooped two times at work before noon. Nor did I think about the multiple times I had to go in the afternoon. I just figured I overdid it with fiber or something.

Thursday night we went out to a restaurant for book club. I had a good time, was home at a decent time and had chicken, veggies and a few beers for dinner. Then I got home and proceeded to spend hours on the toilet. NOT KIDDING! I think flames were coming out of my ass, since it was so raw it felt like it was on fire.

Clearly there was no chance I was going to make it into work on Friday. I didn’t even think I could make it through a shower, much less a bathroom-less commute and an eight-hour work day.

I decided it was time to head to the doctor. I couldn’t get in with my doctor, but thankfully I’m part of the Northwestern hospital group, so there are offices all over the city. (And fellow Chicagoans? The new office on Halsted in Old Town is super nice!)

I explained my symptoms to the fetus doctor (seriously, she looked like she was 22. I hate getting older and my doctors getting younger). She was very nice and very thorough. She thinks it is some sort of bacteria/infection. So she prescribed me some antibiotics. AGAIN. Because I hadn’t been on antibiotics for YEARS and have now been on them three separate times since May.

Also, on the off chance the antibiotics didn’t help or it wasn’t an infection/bacteria, she asked me to take stool samples.

And then I puked on her and asked for my $20 copay back. Because really, lady doctor? I pay you the big bucks to do gross shit like that (pun intended).

She assured me it was a last resort. And then said it takes five days to get the results, and hopefully the antibiotics will have cleared everything up and then we will never have to speak of this again. EVER.

I had to take samples from 3 separate movements. I figured that would be no problem since I had been MOVING quite a bit during the last 24 hours. Who boy, was I wrong. Want a cure for the Kristin Johnsons? Tell your sphincter that you need to take stool samples. ON A WEEKEND. Will stop you right up. Better than Pepto.

(I even went to get greasy food for dinner to move the poocess, I mean process, along. DID NOT HELP.)

Here’s the thing: I had until 3 PM on Saturday to get these collections knocked out. If that happened, it meant that the vials of poop would spend less time in my house, IN MY FRIDGE. But thanks to the sudden onset of blocked-upness, this did not happen. I finished “collecting” sample number three at 3 PM on Saturday afternoon. After the ONLY doctor’s office who is open on Saturdays was CLOSED. So the poop? Stayed in the fridge until Monday.

POOP. IN. MY. FRIDGE! Next to perishables! Like cheese! And beer!

So that was my weekend. Sitting around waiting for my bowels to move. I stayed at home until things were done. I needed to be on my home turf, clearly. I wasn’t going to be handling that in a dirty toilet at Target. (Although, the Target toilets are probably cleaner than mine.)

And now I would like to just erase this whole thing from my memory banks.

Except now there will be record of it the Library of Congress!

DAMN MY NEED TO OVERSHARE ON TWITTER!

Categories: A Dash of the Crazy, A Day in the Life of Me, All A-Twitter, Medical Mishaps
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