Constipation and port replacement surgery do not go hand in hand.

by Christine on July 12th, 2011

filed under Christine's Life Updates, Gastric Banding Surgery

Constipation. Port-replacement surgery. Let me tell you something, folks. The two do not and should not go hand-in hand. I haven’t pooped in about 2 weeks, and my body finally said that it had enough. It had a two-week compacted, compressed poop that was about 14 miles wide and hard as a fucking brick firmly lodged somewhere in my poop track.

Even on a good day that piece of shit would have been hard to push out of my body. On a good day it would take a little stool softener, some prune juice, some abdomen rubbing, some wiggling back and forth to loosen that baby up and get it moving on its way. I’d probably put on some relaxing music in the potty, some ridiculous glamor magazine that was handed down to me. I might file my nails on the potty or brush my cat’s fur while waiting for the action to happen.

But add into the mix a very sore abdomen–so sore, in fact, that I’m on some pretty heavy-duty drugs to make the healing process better, and you get a very ugly scene.

This morning I woke up SOBBING on the toilet. It hurt so bad I stuck a suppository up my ass.  (Leftovers from the first time I had the gastric banding surgery, I might add, so we’re talking about 2 year old suppositories. Do those things have an expiration date?) I laid on the bathroom floor massaging my abdomen. I sat on the toilet and was rocking so hard back and forth that I nearly rocked the toilet off its base. I prune juiced it, coffeed it. I laxa-tatived it.  No matter. This ginormous piece of shit was going to lodge itself stubbornly just out of reaching room, just inside my syphinxtor, and there wasn’t a damn thing I was going to do about it.

It was a real lose-lose situation. Either I was going to go to work with a painful turd stuck inside me all day, or I was going to have to risk tearing my poor abs apart trying to push that son-of-a-gun out of me. I opted for the 2nd choice. In the end I was victorious, but let me tell you, there were some casualties along the way. Each of my 6-pack gunmen are down for the count, and I’m not sure what kind of resuscitation I need to do to bring them back to life.

I’m pretty sure my neighbors heard my orgasm-like screaming as I was finally freed from the concrete poop. They’re probably going to high-five my husband the next time they see him mowing the lawn.  There’s a fine line between shrieks of ecstasy and cries of pain, let me tell you. I doubt I’ll have to heart to tell them that my husband is not, in fact, “da man” and it’s my toilet that deserves praise for its hard work today.

A note to anyone that will be going through the gastric banding or port replacement surgery in the future: start taking stool softeners regularly so that when the “urge” hits you, it hopefully won’t be a painful process.

Holy cripes.

In better news: A Dance with Dragons (by George RR Martin) hit the bookstores today! Did you get your copy??

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