The Mad Crapper Writes:
The Diagnosis
Getting there was half the damn battle! It all started one evening in the spring of '85 when I went to the bathroom and passed golf ball sized blood clots in my stool.
At first I went into denial about it…"this will go away by the next dump, no worries…" It didn't go away.
A day and half later I was in zombie mode setting up doctor visits and getting tests like Upper and lower GI series, sigmoidoscopy, colonoscopy, ultra sound and enough blood drawn to make me dizzy. The most memorable of the tests had to be the lower GI.
You're in a gown with your arse hanging out and they make you lay down on an x-ray table where the cute blond radiology technician spends her time fidgeting with your ass filling you up with enough air to take a balloon ride and of course the milky barium solution which gets injected into you via a hanging enema. The pressure at this point is comparable to sitting on an open fire hydrant!
Now I spend what seemed like an hour but in reality was 10 or 15 minutes of sheer agony wondering If I was going to explode all over this room. Holding all this inside me while they casually took pictures of my innards was nearly unbearable. I was asking questions like where's the bathroom" Do you think I can make it" How far did you say it was" Do the beautiful people in the Chevy commercials ever go through this"
Of course the pretty young technician wasn't answering and I could only picture her blanching from the bile in her throat!
Finally she says to me "Ok, Left out the door the bathroom is down the hall 3rd door on the left" I quickly and carefully rolled off the table and started running like a drunk on roller skates out the door and down the hall past a line of 3 or 4 older ladies all standing in line in their ass open gowns looking like models for the next edition of "Geriatric Secrets".
I just barely made it to the can and proceeded to fart and laugh my way through the next 5 minutes not giving a damn who heard me, uncontrollably blasting away a beautiful rendition of "Thank God that’s Over" like the U.S. Marine Corp marching band! Later as I walked out past the outer waiting room I felt everyone's eyes on me as the suspected noise maker and I couldn't have cared less and damned near smiled and bowed to them all!
There is much more to come from The "Mad Crapper"
Author of books and articles related to whatever needs to be said and read. Recently decided to write about personal battle with Crohns Disease and Ulcerative Colitis.