Warning!! This post is very graphic so if anyone is the faint of heart, please stop reading now and come back in a few days for a light and fluffy blog post. For those of you with tummies of steal, please continue. You’ve been warned. The moral of my story: Take your fiber.
So I was minding my own business and I thought to myself…”self, you haven’t pooped for a few days”… I thought about it and I was right, I hadn’t pooped in four days…I was gassy and I had some major abdominal pain, but nothing to show for it. I was at work (it was a sunny Thursday) and my lunch break was almost over. I figured I might as well go try one more time before I got back on the phones. I actually took my cell phone with me, which is something I NEVER do (eeeww!). Well, let me tell you, my cell phone saved my life that day!
I sat down and started doing my business and SUCCESS! A tiny little turd plopped out into the toilet…but as my tummy rumbled, I knew there was more. I pushed a bit harder but it wouldn’t come out! I pushed and pushed but NOTHING. You know the feeling you get when you’re determined to get your business done, and know that if you push just a little more, the rest will just come out? You push but its stuck so maybe if you wiggle a little that could help dislodge it? Ya…that was me. Here I am, in the bathroom stall at work with poo literally sticking out of my butt. No matter how much I wiggled, it wouldn’t come out! So, I start to panic. I need to get back to work! What do I do? I cant just…suck it back up and get back to my life…it was NOT going anywhere. So, I call my husband. I’m panicking! What in the world is he suppose to do? Not like he can come to work and rescue me! I just don’t know what else to do so I’m sitting in the stall whispering to him, “I have poop stuck and it wont come out!”…
This is where I start pushing harder because I think, I NEED to get this thing out because I’m late to work but it’s REALLY starting to hurt. I sort of feel like I’m starting to tare down there and I really don’t want to be crying in the ladies room at work. A lady actually asked me if everything was ok. Through tears I whimper, “ I’ll be ok”. I was NOT going to be ok. I don’t want to get in trouble so I texted my co-worker asking her to please tell my boss I’m having a bathroom emergency and I’ll be out as soon as humanly possible. Now what? I text my gastric BFF because I knew if anyone could help me, it would be her! She came running in to save the day! Gastric BFF had the best idea! She went downstairs to our pharmacy and bought me an enema, brought it into the bathroom for me and read me the directions. Have you ever given yourself an enema? At work? I stick that thing up my exit only and flush the water up there. I just wait because it says to hold it in as long as you can. Next thing I know, I start to push, against my will, and only the water comes out! Oh my lord. Now, I have never had a vaginal birth. My son was miraculously removed from my body via C-section and only after this process can I say I am truly grateful for that. I am in excruciating pain, screaming out loud in the ladies bathroom! I try to stand up to stop my body from doing what God had intended it to do, PUSH.
My gastric BFF starts to freak out because I’m screaming in pain and I cant stop my body from pushing out the poo that will not come out. I can only equate it to dry heaving out your butt. Now what do we do? Dial 911. Here is where I hit my rock bottom. The paramedics enter the ladies bathroom. Little do I know but my wonderful co-workers (who shall remain anonymous) have re-routed all other people from the area so I can retain what little dignity I have left. The EMS man was very nice and says that he has kids and deals with poop all day. Thanks Mister. That helps. He puts on a glove, shoves his finger up my exit only and says, “Yep, that’s impacted”. Ugh. So I pull up my pants and as daintily as possible, get onto the stretcher. Off to the hospital we go!
When I get to the ER they gave me pain medicine (I kid you not, they give me morphine) which only made me sleepy. The doctor (luckily a female) confirmed that I did, indeed, have an impacted bowel. They gave me another enema and brought in a lovely chair that equated to a toilet seat on a bucket. I shit you not. Literally. Anywho, I had to hold the enema in for another 10 minutes and then do my business. Again, only the liquid came out and I started screaming out in pain. The poo would not come out and apparently, your body’s natural reaction is to push and I couldn’t stop pushing unless I stood up. So here I am, in a gown, bending over my hospital bed, screaming out in the most horrific pain I have EVER been in, screaming for the nurse to help. She comes in and gives me more pain medicine and a rubber glove. She basically tells me that I need to dig out the impacted bowel in order to relieve the pain. Never, in my life, have I been so humiliated. My poor husband can’t even stay in the room with me because of my embarrassment and the smell. I’m sorry.
So, after 20 minutes of using my finger to fish out the impacted bowel, I finally push out the softer stuff that is behind the rock that caused me all this pain. I have never been so relieved of anything. Like I said before, I haven’t had to give birth so I’m not sure what its like but this, in my mind, was just as bad. I like to think I have a rather high pain tolerance because I didn’t take any pain meds after my gastric bypass, but this was beyond excruciating. After everything was said and done, I laid back in the bed and fell asleep until they told me I could go home. Only a few close friends and people at work knew what had happened and we have never spoken about it since.
The moral of my impacted bowel is to always make sure you are getting your fiber. Iron pills can make you constipated and I take iron every day. I now take a fiber supplement three times a week because you better bet your buns that I am not going through THAT again.