So I chose to believe her! Of course I did!

I started probiotics a few days ago. And I started the antibiotics this morning. I’m hoping it all works out and there are no poop-splosions in my near future. But, on a good note, I know what the symptoms are, in case I do have a repeat occurrence, and then I will stop taking the medicine. As opposed to the last time, when I just kept taking medicine that was making my ass feel like it was on fire.

Ahem.

Anyway, I bring this up because today I started two medicines in advance of the oral surgery. I picked them up at the drug store near my office this morning because when I went to pick them up yesterday, I realized I left my wallet at home. Good thing I bring my lunch!

The two things were not in a small white paper bag like normal prescriptions. They were in a LARGE brown paper bag. I’m pretty sure everyone that saw me leaving CVS this morning thought I was carrying an enema in the bag. Or 20 pregnancy tests.

But no! It was just a large bottle of pills and a GINORMOUS bottle of anti-bacterial mouthwash.

I started both these medicines this morning. The antibiotic is straight forward. The only thing that worried me was a) the chance of the poop issues, of course, and b) that it specifically says that if heartburn is one of the side effects, to contact your doctor immediately. Like it’s considered a SERIOUS side effect, where poop-splosions are just regular, run-of-the-mill side effects.

Well. Hmmm. That’s not good. Because I GET HEARTBURN EVERY DAY.

How do you know the difference? AM I GOING TO DIE?

The mouth rinse is also stupid. I have to do it twice a day, preferably once in the morning and once before bed. The problem with this is that I cannot eat or drink for two hours once I rinse. That’s fine at night when I’m drooling on my pillow. Not so fine in the morning when I’m hungry and thirsty and ITCHING for the caffeine from my coffee to be racing through my veins.

Oh! And it leaves a nasty taste in your mouth! So even water tastes gross! And food! So! At least it should work wonders on my too-tight pants!

As long as it doesn’t lead to the Kristin Johnsons, I’m calling it a huge victory.

So remember when this happened? The verdict was “your tooth is shit and you are going to need it pulled and get an implant.”

So what did I do? I decided I would ignore it because my dentist cemented the crown back on temporarily and it would last a little while longer. I just wouldn’t eat gummy candy on that side of my mouth.

Done and done!

*makes hand wiping gesture to the computer screen*

I finally bit the bullet and went for a consult a few weeks ago. I knew this was going to be pricey. And drawn out. I figured it would be best to get the first part done this year. That way I could plan ahead for the rest of the procedures with my flexible spending account next year. And/or sell my wilted eggs.

I’m having my tooth pulled on November 18. And then he’s doing a bone graft. And lots of other things that cost a lot of money, aren’t covered by insurance and are necessary because I will need my mouth, teeth and jaw for a lot more years, I hope. (He kept telling me he knew I was going to live into my 90s.)

AND! I’m not getting put under! I’m only doing nitrous because to get put all the way under would have cost me $700 more! Which is ridiculous! I will just deal with the tugging and the pulling and the sawing and all the other unpleasant shit. Hmmmm, maybe I should spend the extra to go under.

The lovely Daisy is going to be a peach and pick me up after surgery. So I full on intend for her to tweet and video tape me in my medically-induced haze. I’d be disappointed if she didn’t.

There is a problem in all of this. Besides being awake for the whole thing and the whole “tooth pulling costing as much as a mortgage payment” thing. Oral surgeon Larry David says there is a bit of an infection in the root of my tooth. (It’s a tooth that had a root canal on it like 20 years ago, so I don’t feel anything.) So in preparation, Surgeon Larry David wants me to take an antibiotic to make sure the infection is all gone.

No big deal, right?

That’s what I was thinking. Until I woke up in a panic in the middle of the night the other night remembering what happened the last time I took antibiotics.

The Kristin Johnsons! POOP IN THE FRIDGE.

So now I’ve got myself all worked up. But I’m going to plan ahead with probiotics now. That way I’ll be all good once I start the antibiotics on Friday.

Because nothing says attractive like a missing tooth and shitting your pants.

#spinstertweets

• When I drink my face off and try to then function the next day on little sleep
• When I decide to eat my weight in fried food and then try to fit in my pants
• When I think I can lift any box, regardless of weight

The first two, I can recover from. Eventually I will not be so hungover I feel like death and I can also introduce more non-fried food into my diet. But when I decide I’m superwoman and lift all the heavy things? That doesn’t end so well.

I should know better. Remember the last time I decided to lift and carry a large, heavy box? It took awhile to not have jelly arms and for those bruises to go away. I should have learned my lesson.

But I didn’t. I recently was in charge of a big event at work and it involved a big booth at an Expo Hall, which meant I needed to supply all the things for said event. This required getting boxes and boxes of materials and coordinating the printing and delivery of said materials. I had been working on everything for this event since June.

One of the days leading up to the event, I received a delivery of some printed materials down at our dock. I knew what they were and instead of waiting to have someone deliver them for me, I just did it myself.

There weren’t a lot of boxes, just about 8, and I assumed that since it was just paper, it wouldn’t be that heavy. So I leaned down to move one of the boxes off the skid, the skid that was on the ground, meaning I had to bend my six-foot frame down to the ground to pick it up. It wasn’t until I lifted it a centimeter off the ground, obviously not lifting with my legs, that I realized these boxes were fucking heavy.

But eh, what did I care? I’m young and strong. I would be fine. So I finished loading the boxes onto my cart, took them up to my storage room and then lifted them all again off the cart and onto the counter in the storage room.

About 10 minutes later, I realized my horrible, horrible mistake. I paid for every single thing I lifted. My back was SCREAMING at me. And the worst part? There was nothing I could do. I still had boxes to lift, things to move and unpack to get ready for the Expo. And then once I did that, I had to stand on my feet for two days working the Expo booth. My back was going to be sore at me! (See what I did there?)

I stocked up on Thermacare and SalonPas and Advil at the store. I did pretty well and tried not to overexert myself. That’s what interns are for. I knew once the event was over, everything would get back to normal and I could recover.

That was last week. And it got a lot better.

But now I’ve gone and done something to it again because my back? It is sore in a whole other spot than it has been for the last few weeks. So I’ve apparently healed one part and injured another.

So tell me, smart readers, how can I fix this? I know I need to rest, and I’m trying. But should I try working out more? Maybe doing the elliptical? Anything besides popping 37 Advil a day? ANYTHING?

:::::

Since you guys are the very best and prettiest people in the world, can you do me a huge favor? My friend owns a bar in Pittsburgh and is up for the Burgh’s Best Bar. Can you please click here and vote for REMEDY? Please and thank you! And tell your friends!

Anyway, I was convinced, CONVINCED, that I would get pink eye germs on my hands from touching the doors at this gas station/Dunkin Donuts. I would be insane about not touching my eyes after I got my coffee until I got into the office and washed my hands. Any other time, I would touch bird poop and then touch my eyeball and not flinch. But this door? Hell to the no.

That fear has gone by the wayside, thankfully. Mostly because I no longer work at that place. And the Dunkin Donuts I go to now is right next to my building and apparently my brain thinks the door handles are pink-eye-free.

That and I carry around hand sanitizer and have a huge bottle on my desk that I use the minute I get in the office. I mean, I take public transportation. I’m not stupid.

My new irrational fear is lice. And it is all her fault. And his too.

See, before I was going to Toronto, I was chatting with Ali about the weekend and the fun times we were going to be having. At one point some things were up in the air because Ali was possibly going to be without someone to watch her kids. Because there was a lice outbreak amongst some other cousins and obviously Ali wasn’t going to send her three kids to a house where there was a chance those three kids with THICK, THICK hair were going to get lice.

(Are you itchy? Because just talking about it makes me itchy!)

It was all good. Measures were taken and the lice were killed and our lovely BBQHer weekend went on as planned.

But since then? I’m convinced I have lice. So much so, that I’m Googling lice. And scratching my head like a crazy person who wears paper shoes.

I know I don’t have lice. For instance, if I don’t think about it, I can go hours and hours without scratching my head. But once I start thinking about it? Well, let’s just say I’ve typed this post with one hand as the other hand has been scratching my scalp.

It doesn’t help that I take public transportation. And I think about those seats on the train that are covered in fabric and I just think about the amount of bugs in the fabric on those seats and how I’m going to get lice from one of the homeless people who ride the train. I spent a lot of time this past weekend on public transit so of course THIS DID NOT HELP.

And now I’m off to take a shower with bleach to kill these imaginary bugs. Before I scratch the skin on my scalp raw and REALLY have something to complain about.

I figure at worst the cats will see them and can eat them out of my hair, right?

*Also the name of my band’s debut album.

I have no excuse for not taking the time to post something Sunday. Well, besides my laziness and amazing sloth-like tendencies.

See, after Saturday night’s wine fest, I was not feeling up to much on Sunday. I slept until 11 and moved from the bed to the couch and then watched 6 straight episodes of Mad Men. (I would have watched more, but that was all I had from Netflix.)

I had big plans for this weekend. BIG! HUGE! It was the first weekend since getting back from Jamaica where I had nothing to do. I didn’t have to drive anywhere, or visit family. I had no obligations. It was glorious! I was going to clean! And go grocery shopping! And do laundry and get organized!

I did none of this. I drank wine, went to my WW meeting and that was it. I didn’t even make it to the store, with my paltry list of like 10 things. I made it, though, to Taco Bell for dinner. And then I even walked to 7-11 to get some chocolate milk. But getting in the car to do the grocery shopping? Too much effort. My laziness knows no bounds.

And then I went to bed at 7:30. No, really. I got like 11 hours of sleep last night.

I’m pretty sure that additional sleep was to blame for the fact that I have this giant bump and scrape on my right shin:

In a move of pure insanity, I decided that I would run for the train this morning. I heard it arriving as I was paying my fare and decided I could totally make it if I ran.

(Not only is this a thought I should never have, it’s also a thought I should never have at 7:30 AM before I’ve had any coffee.)

In a stroke of what I assumed was pure genius, I decided I should run up the escalator, as opposed to the stairs, since that would get me up to the platform faster. This was a stupid idea mostly because I take the stairs every day. My body is aware of the height of each of the steps. The steps on the escalator are bigger.

So in a lazy, sleepy haze, I was running up stairs on an escalator and the end of my flip flop caught on the step I didn’t quite make and DOWN GOES JOHNSON!

I ignored the pain and hoped I didn’t rip a hole in my pants, and continued running up the stairs to the train. I made it just as the doors were closing. I made a little wave to the driver, to please let me on, to no avail.

All that, and I DIDN’T EVEN MAKE THE TRAIN.

The stupidest thing about this? The trains come frequently in the AM rush. It’s not like I was going to have to wait 20 minutes for the next one. THERE IS NO REASON TO RUN! Plus, escalator stairs = way more hurty than other cement stairs!

And it chipped my brand! New! Pedicure! That I got Saturday!

This will teach me to try and be active before 8 AM sans caffeine.

And then I think “well, considering everything I’ve been ingesting the last three weeks has ended up flushing down the toilet, maybe I’m not getting the nutrients I need to be at a normal energy level.” And maybe that + medication is making me a walking zombie. Add that to the fact I haven’t been really drinking coffee because it hasn’t been sitting in my stomach well, and it’s lucky I don’t nap under the desk at work a  la Constanza.

Everyone is going to tell me to keep working out. But see, the problem with this issue of the Kristin Johnsons, is that it’s not as easy as it sounds. Last night I got about halfway through Day 2 of Couch to 5k and had to jump off the treadmill and run to the lockerroom, lest there be a poop-tastrophe on the gym floor. No amount of sanitizing spray could clean that up.

So until I kick this and get done with the antibiotics (SEVEN MORE DAYS!), I’m going to try to take it easy, eat bland things and hope I never have this bacteria ever again in my life.

The one really annoying side effect to this medication is that it leaves a weird taste in my mouth. I had read that in the leaflet and then laughed because really? That’s a real side effect? Suck it up pansies.

And then, as is usually the case with my life, I got this known side effect. And let me tell you, it is nasty. It is kind of a mix of a metallic taste/the taste of your morning breath after going to bed without brushing your teeth the night after a bender. And it doesn’t go away. Drinking plain water tastes like I’m drinking it as it is filtering through a cat’s asshole. I have to add Crystal Light to every bit of water I drink. (Look at that! I touted my review posts twice without planning to! Remember this is the last week to enter the drawing!)

The thing that helps the most with this is eating. Especially things like peanut butter, that stick to your tongue and linger. Peanut butter is a Godsend this week. Except, because this side effect taste is so nasty and never goes away, I’ve pretty much consumed an entire jar of Skippy in three days. So much for the diet and eating right!

I’ve finally found a balance. I use the mix-ins in my water at work and when it is really bad, I go get some iced tea or something acidic from the little store in the office building to wipe the taste out temporarily. And today, I finally bought some gum and that has helped tremendously. The only problem with that is then my fruit punch Crystal Light tastes a little minty. But that? Still better than the nasty taste on my tongue from the medicine.

Has this ever happened to you? Does it go away?

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!

I have literally spent the last way too many days, in bed, eating toast, drinking water and shitting my brains out.

It all started Tuesday night when I got home. I wasn’t hungry and ended up only having a bowl of cereal for dinner. Then as I was sitting on the couch, I was FREEZING! It was about 95 degrees out and super humid and yet, I was freezing in my house with the A/C on. Even though it is set to the same temperature every single day.

I was tired and figured I should go to bed early. I was fine until I woke up about 4:30 AM and then spent the next two hours on the toilet. I decided not to go to work, obviously, since 1) I didn’t know if I could drive in without having to stop and 2) I don’t like spending that much time in the bathroom at work. Or any public bathroom, for that matter.

Regan has dubbed ass-splosions “The Kristin Johnsons”, hence the title of the post. And her poor son has been afflicted with The Kristin Johnsons this past week too. But he’s lucky because he wears a diaper and doesn’t have to worry about pooping in a gas station bathroom in the middle of nowhere because he can’t make it home.

I will spare you more poop talk and just tell you that it still hasn’t gone away. I went to work on Friday and attempted to eat something more than toast for lunch. I had soup and a turkey sandwich. You would have thought the soup was laced with Ex-Lax from the reaction I had. I made it until about 4:30 in the office (after several incidents of The Kristin Johnsons at work) and decided I needed to go home. Let’s just say, I barely made it home. It was ROUGH.

So much for no more poop talk, huh? Like calling it The Kristin Johnsons makes the fact I’m talking about loose stool any less gross.

I’M DONE! I SWEAR!

Anyway, the worst part about it? I was supposed to go up to Milwaukee this past weekend to visit Ali and her family. But it’s almost a two-hour drive up there. And I knew it was a big risk, so I stayed home. I was so sad. But I have vowed to kick The Kristin Johnsons to the curb this week and go up there next weekend. Because it has been awhile since I’ve celebrated the Sabbath and I miss my second family.

So that’s what’s been going on with me. And why I have been MIA. And why everyone on Twitter wishes I would just stop talking about poop.

I still have a sneaky suspicion the cats were behind it somehow…

:::::

Don’t forget to head on over to my review blog and leave a comment on my most recent post and enter for a chance to win a $100 Visa gift card! We haven’t had too many comments, so your odds of winning are high!

Anyway, don’t mind me, I’m back to posting on consecutive days and here I will yet again complain about my old body and its failings.

I woke up this morning with a sore back. I didn’t do any heavy lifting yesterday (or within the last 15 years), so I was a tad perplexed. Add that to the fact that the pain was right about where my kidneys are and it felt like someone had sucker punched me right in the pee-making organ overnight. And on top of it, I got up last night to pee a total of four times. Which is super odd as I prefer to never get up during the night because those are precious moments I could be sleeping. But at best, I’ll get up to pee once.

(Also, because I have an irrational fear of falling off the toilet while I’m peeing in the middle of the night because apparently one of the old coaches from the 49ers passed out one time and since he was standing up, bashed his head on the toilet and broke his jaw and was paralyzed or something. Because did you know that your blood pressure drops when you pee? And when you wake up from a sound sleep to pee, your blood pressure is already super low, so you could easily pass out whilst pissing on the pot in the middle of the night? Do you see why I don’t like to get up from a sound sleep to pee?)

Anyway, so I basically convinced myself that I had a kidney infection. I was like “back pain? CHECK. Frequent urination? CHECK. Kidney infection? CLEARLY A BIG CHECK!”

Well, it turns out, I don’t really have any other symptoms. Apparently I tweaked my back and I’m properly hydrated. The end.

But then I’m like “how the hell did I hurt my back?” I do not move much when I sleep, so I doubt it could have been from that. Like I mentioned, I haven’t carried anything heavy.

And just now, as I’m writing this post, from the comfort of my couch, I’ve pretty much figured out what the hell happened.

Remember this photo?

And how I moved the plant to the top of the entertainment center?

Well at 4 AM this morning, I heard a loud bang and shattering of glass. Somehow Simba had gotten on top of the entertainment center to eat that fucking plant and had knocked over all my picture frames. Glass + hardwood floors =

So at 4 AM, I chased Simba, caught him by the tail and then…did nothing because WTF am I going to do to a stupid cat at that hour of the morning? Not much. But at least I could go pee and now worry about low blood pressure.

I moved the plant to the kitchen counter because then at least he could feast on the plant without knocking anything over and I could get a few more hours of sleep. But before I went back to bed, I made sure that he couldn’t get back on the entertainment center. He was jumping from the ottoman there by the window to the top of the entertainment center. So at 4 AM, I picked up that heavy ottoman and moved it clear across the room so as to not cause any more disasters. At 4 AM! I’m pretty sure I didn’t lift with my legs.

So I think I solved the mystery of the phantom kidney infection. That is really a sore back. And I have since moved the plant to the balcony. Where Simba has forgotten all about it. Except for one wistful glance at it this morning as he said his goodbyes. After which I tried to put him in the shower with the water on to make him pay for his naughty behavior. Don’t cross me cat!

So I feel like I have to mention the fact that I only posted like twice last week. And then I’m sure you were all “what happened to Kristabella? Did she poop herself and die of embarrassment? Did she end up in the hospital because she pooped so much? Did she get caught itching her asshole because the poop problems have given her hemorrhoids?”

Well, it is none of the above. I was just lazy. Which is the story of my life, right? Actually, I had every intention to post something Thursday night. But then I watched the season finale of Grey’s and was PACING MY LIVING ROOM, so I couldn’t get up enough energy to think about anything besides SHOOTERS! AND BLOOD! And WORST SWAT TEAM EVER!

Although, I should have ended up staying up late and writing a post because I ended up not sleeping well and having nightmares about crazy gunmen. I mean, if I’m going to bother to dream about Grey’s Anatomy, couldn’t I at least be having sex with McDreamy, McSteamy or that new hottie, Avery?

So yeah, that’s what is new in Kristabellikstan. I think my poop issues have finally decided to get better. I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking that I stopped the antibiotics over a week ago so I couldn’t still be having issues. YOU WOULD BE WRONG! Because as a nice commenter pointed out, I apparently had some sort of ailment, like Anus Explodus, that was causing this issue with me. It was brought on by the antibiotics and basically all the good bacteria in my colon was all “ABORT! ABORT! We’re being attacked!” And then that’s why I pooped. A lot.

So nice commenter Mia said to avoid carbs. She said that carbs were the devil. And really, at that point last week, I would have done anything to not poop 5 times a day. Lo and behold, it worked! Carbs ARE the devil to Anus Explodus. And now I’m doing a lot better and eating a lot of cheese. It’s really a perfect world.

And I think that is enough poop talk for this century!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In other news, do you know what grubs are? Apparently they are some sort of bug that eats and destroys your lawn. I don’t know these things because I don’t have a lawn and I prefer that to having to keep up with a lawn.

So how do I know about grubs? Because this is the billboard I see every damn day on my way home from work. If I’m lucky, I get stuck at the light when all I can see is this:

Which hides the very disgusting critter on the front of the bag. Don’t believe me?

All I know is EXCELLENT MARKETING CAMPAIGN SCOTTS! I don’t even have a lawn and I want to buy your product to make sure I never have those creepy crawly things anywhere near me or my house!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, my sister is due to have her baby any minute. She’s technically due the 8th of June, but she’s super swollen and the doctor is worried about pre-eclampsia, so she might be having this baby sooner rather than later. She goes to the doctor on Wednesday to see what the verdict is.

Anyway, I bring her up because we had her baby shower on Sunday afternoon. It was a big party, there were like 50 people there. We played that melted candy bars in a diaper game and you had to guess which candy bar it was. It was enough to make me vomit. But I was at a good table and we got 100%! So I won a plant! And I tried to pawn it off on anyone, but I had no takers. Not because I don’t like plants, but because of of this:

I have since moved it to the top of the entertainment center and I just caught Simba trying to make a flying leap up there.

What’s new with you internet? Anyone want a plant?