This is a sort of follow-up from my previous entry, just to inform everyone in internet land how my shituation is doing.  In the days following my emergency room visit, I did what I was told to do.  I avoided juice, carbonated beverages, increased my fiber, and I got my prescription to prevent stomach spasms. Despite my best efforts, the pipes were not flowing, and I was MISERABLE.  Even after laxatives.  Even after gallons of water.  Nothing.

On a whim, or perhaps more of a desperate attempt to shut me up, Austin did a Google search for colonics in Central PA.  Although the idea of a colonic is very unnerving, I was desperate enough to call not 1, but 4 places and try to get myself seen ASAP.  One clinic called me back for a 5PM appointment, and I was more than happy to drive over and take it.  Literally.

If you know what a colonic is, but never actually had one, then your impression of the process is likely seen through rose-colored glasses.  I generally thought that what would happen to me would be comparable to the colonics I’d seen on Penn&Teller, HBO’s show The Gigalos, and various YouTube videos and it goes something like this:

You go in a nice, fresh, clean, relaxing room.  You undress from the waist down, lay sideways on a table.  A nice, competent, NURSE (or hydro therapist) would come in and explain what she was going to do, lube up a tube and gently insert it into your rectum.  Unpleasant? Yes, but not painful.  You then turn onto your back and put your knees up (like at the gynecologist.) The nurse places a heating pad on your stomach.  Warm, filtered water is slowly released into the colon. The water causes the muscles of the colon to contract, called peristalsis. Peristalsis “pushes” feces out through the hose to be disposed in a closed waste system.  To help the flow of water, the nurse gently massages your stomach.  The process is repeated 3 or 4 times during a session.

Okay, sounds like something that someone who is severely constipated may try, right?  Let me tell you about my experience.  And I promise you, nothing about this is even slightly exaggerated.  It happened just. Like. This; direct quotes and all.

I went into the clinic, and was ushered into a room by a girl no older than 20.  The room was literally the size of a closet and barely fit the table and machine in there.  It was also about 100 degrees.  The tech explained colonics like this: “You know what you see on TV?  This machine isn’t like that.  They don’t show this one on TV.”  Then, pointed to a small blue tube (in sterile packaging) and a trial size packet of lube and said “undress from your waist down, put this in your anus, it should stay put, then call me in whenever you’re done.”  So, I did that, or at least tried to.  Unfortunately, the tube wasn’t very forgiving; imagine a HARD plastic material, slightly bigger than a straw, with jagged edges (seemingly from the way the machine cut it?) and a hole in the top.  Trying to squat, lube, insert tube, waddle back to the table without the tube falling out AND getting back on the exam table took eloquence in quantities that I just do not have. ¹ By some sort of miracle, I was able to manage to do this (after 40 minutes) and it was then on with the show.  The tech must have sensed my fear, because she comforted me by letting me in on a little secret  “I would pull your shirt up because this splashes.”

The tech then turned on the water full blast, which promptly shot the tube out of my butt like a bat out of hell, showering me with water (which was COLD) and feces (which were NOT COLD) and continued to spray my bottom half with water until the addled tech turned it off.

Tech:        Oh, that wasn’t supposed to happen, usually the tube stays in there.

Me:            Stunned silence.

Tech:       Okay, well…here are some rubber gloves, so you don’t have to touch the mess.  Re insert and we’ll try again.  Oh and… there are towels right there.  You’re going to need those when you get down from the table…

I won’t go into any more details, but I fixed things AGAIN, and then we started over again.  Finally, the water was going somewhere, but it was taking a long time.  That makes sense thought…the water had some… stuff to push through, you know?  So, what else do you do?  Make idle conversation.

Me:           So, what made you want to do this job? *awkward laughter*

Tech:     Oh, I’m actually a massage therapist.  Our last hydro therapist quit, so they taught me how to do this until they hire another one.  Do you feel like you have to poop yet?

Me:           Stunned silence.

The urge of “fullness” finally came, and I asked the tech what happens now.  If you were taking notes, this is the part in my colonic fantasy where the therapist would have gently massaged my stomach, and my colon muscles would have naturally contracted, lightly pushing the water and whatever was loosed out through the tube and into a separate poo holder.  Of course, this is not what happened.  The tech told me to “bear down” and “push like you’re going number 2″ and when I questioned this and asked if the tubes had “suction” (and technically that happens naturally, it causes a kind of vacuum) she said “oh no, this is all you.”

So, push I did.  I mean…!? I figured that everything would just go through the tube and that would be it.  But it wasn’t it!  Of course my muscles expelled the water/sludge mixture and at first it went through the itty bitty tube, but when push came to shove, that tube was not staying put in my ass.

So out it went.

Me:          Um, so what do I do now?

Tech:       Oh, that’s not…. well that usually doesn’t come out… so, um…just keep pushing and we’ll deal with the tube later.

Me:          So um, you, what?  You just… I should just keep going?  Like… where will it go?

Tech:      Oh, well it’ll go on the table i guess and then ill turn on the water and rinse it down the drain.

At this point I am FUCKING MORTIFIED and sick of the situation, sick of this tech, and completely ready to GO THE FUCK HOME.  But, there was just over 2 quarts of water chillin’ in my colon, and muscles that had now decided to get rid of all the water ASAP, so needless to say I just did what she asked and shit on the table.

Let me make this clear.  This isn’t normal.  THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN.

I was done.  Done done done done done.

Me:  So.

Tech:   Okay, so use the gloves [I previously gave you] and get the tube and reinsert, and then we’ll do the water again.

So, Tech speak in laymen’s terms:  ”Use the poopy gloves that you already used to pick out the tube that is now completely covered in feces and shove is back in your butt so you can relive this horrible experience 2 or 3 more times.”

NOT HAPPENING.

Me:  I’m done, this isn’t working, I’m going home now.

Tech:  Aw, well that’s unfortunate….okay just get dressed and you can pay out front.

Worst

Experience

EVER.

Wednesday started off as any normal day would.  I ate my lunch- a salad that I was excited to try since it was new and it was delicious; spinach with bleu cheese crumbles, toasted almonds, crasins, and a white vinegrette dressing.  All was well for about 45 minutes and then I broke out in hives on my chest.  Hives are something that I am used to.  I am allergic to a lot of things like detergent and fabric softeners.

I didn’t have an epi pen on me (I usually do) so, I called the doc office and although they were mild hives, they said to come in and see if i needed a shot of epinepherine.  I left work around 1:15 and drove there.  While driving, I started to feel pressure/gassy in my stomach, but that’s also somewhat normal for me so I let it go.  Because I was a walk in, I had to sign in and wait.  As I was waiting,  the feeling of pressure got more intense, my hives started getting darker, and I started to get red and hot.  Then, all of a sudden I started feeling nauseus and I wound up dry heaving  in the bathroom. They called me back where I bypassed the weight and height portion and immediately asked to sit down because I felt dizzy.   She sat me down, and I just felt pain in my stomach… intense, bad pain.  She asked me stuff like medication I was on, if I was diabetic, where the pain was (all while the pain was getting worse) then took my temperature because my skin was hot and clammy and I was flushed.

While she took my BP I felt a swoop of sleepiness, passed out and smacked my head on the wall.  About 3 seconds later I was awake, and scared, and still sweaty- but the heat from my skin was replaced with a cold, clamminess.

They put me on the table to lay back and calm down, and the pain was so intense, it was making me see black spots in the lights.  They took my BP and it was 90/42 (normal is 120/80) and as I was laying down the nausea came back and I threw up intensely again, and again blacked out.  Later, they told me that i blacked out quickly several more times, and once for long enough that they had to give me smelling salts to wake up.

The rest is a blurr of doctors and phone calls, but I remember panicking that I was throwing up because whenever I did, I felt intense pain and blacking out afterwards.  I was shaking (because I kept getting hot and cold and my body couldn’t make its mind up) and crying very HARD (because I was scared.) The last time I passed out after throwing up, they called for an ambulance.

I’ve never been in an ambulance.  It’s frightening, hot, and bumpy.  I don’t reccommend it be on anyone’s bucket list.

I got strapped in, had a shock wave of epigastric PAIN, got the heat wave of nausea, threw up in the ambulance, then promptly blacked out again.

If you’re keeping track, that’s 4 times I passed out.  Why was I passing out so much?  It actually had NOTHING to do with the hives.  It did have to do with some stupid thing called the vagus nerve.  “This nerve connects the digestive system to the brain, and it’s job is to manage blood flow to the intestines to aid in digestions. Unfortunately, the vagus nerve can get a little too excited and pull too much blood from the brain. Some things make it work harder, such as vomiting. Conditions that drop blood pressure amplify the effects of the vagus nerve” ¹  Of course, in the panic of the moment my doctor’s office didn’t make that correlation, and instead thought that the passing out was related to the amount of pain I was in.

The very nice ambulance people gave me Zofran for nausea and morphine, which caused me to throw up again.  Once at the hospital, they gave me more zofran, replaced the morphine with tramadol, and made me drink a “GI cocktail” consisting of malox, donnatol, and lidocaine (which numbed my entire mouth and tasted like runny toothpaste.)  After an EKG to make sure that my heart wasn’t the cause of the blackouts, they then took x-rays of my stomach and bloodwork, hoping to rule out a perforated ulcer and pancreatitis.

Everything came back normal, except the x-rays which showed that my stomach and duodenum were inflamed, and that the probable cause of my stomach distention and pain were do to a SEVERE BACKUP of poop that was pushing on my diaphragm.  They slapped a diagnosis on it called gastroduodenitis and prescribed donnatol for the spasms and miralax and told me that I NEED to get things moving, or I was at risk for blood poisoning.

Yes folks, quite literally I am full of shit.

I learned something new yesterday.  Did you know that you can be pick pocketed without actually having anything taken from your pockets? 

“Pick pocketing is a form of larceny that involves the stealing of money or other valuables from the person of a victim without their noticing the theft at the time. A thief who works in this manner is known as a pickpocket.”

Yesterday, I was at Pep Boys (of all places… sheesh) and after my purchase, was returning to my car when “I” ran into a large dude.  Large dude then proceeded to make a big stink over “me” running into him, leaving me somewhat frazzled.  After getting into my car, and driving to my next destination, I then happened to notice that the key-per case containing my debit card, receipt, and cash was empty.  Wanting to think the best of everyone, I assumed I left my crap haphazardly at the register, so I called the store back but there wasn’t anything there.  Parts of me wanted to believe that I just accidentally dropped it outside the store; that mankind isn’t a bunch of criminal Neanderthals, but the clerk checked there as well to no avail.

Looking back, I don’t know whether I was a target from the beginning, or if I made myself an easier target by only carrying a case and not a purse.  If I had my purse, would he even had bothered to steal from me, or would he have stolen my entire purse instead?  I’m lucky that I only had my key-per contents stolen. A debit card and $20 is a small price to pay in comparison to everything in my purse (including my phone, more money, car keys, private information) or my watch , or my car… ¹

So I learned a valuable lesson: to be far more aware that most everyone is a scheming asshole. 

Also, joke’s on the pick pocket because that card only has $147 on it (plus I work for the company it goes through so it was cancelled within 10 minutes.)

Onto other, happier things:  I got to see Jenn, Dan, their kiddos, and Jason this weekend.  I schlepped myself and Sophie over there on Sunday afternoon where Jenn had a delicious array of taco/quesidilla/nacho fixings buffet style.  While the kids played, she made corn bread in a fashion I’d never seen before and was slightly put off by; cornbread mix plus creamed corn and sour cream.  But I’m obviously not the cooking queen, and of course the cornbread was actually VERY good. 

I went home around 8, leaving Sophie to spend the night, feeling slightly guilty on the drive home when I realized that Ryan and Alyssa haven’t stayed overnight with us since August.  Granted, Jenn’s house has 3 bedrooms and ours has 2; plus it isn’t particularly safe ² to play outside of our house whereas she has a backyard with a playset and other kids in the neighborhood to play with.  I’m no expert as far as kid sleepovers go (since Sophie has only ever had Alyssa and Ryan spend the night and has only ever spent the night there) but when I was young our parents traded off every other time.  So I guess I owe you like, 3 now Jenn.

On top of that bedroom/yard situation ³ there’s the fact that I have ONE child.  She has 2 CHILDREN.  She claims that adding one child when you already have 2 isn’t a big leap, but adding 2 children when you only are used to caring for one is a flying leap.  I’d have to agree with that because I was a bit overwhelmed when they were here.  I’m NOT used to 3 different kids wanting to do 3 different things and then arguing when they can’t.  I’ll admit it! 

Recent Tweets

Find me on facebook