Saturday, 14 January 2012
Warning: Potty humour (Mom don't read this)
Here it is, 3 o'clock in the morning, one day post op, and I can't sleep. I spent the last half hour or so sitting on the toilet, in my daughter's snuggie, drinking ginger ale, and praying to fart. Oh why gods of flatulence have you denied me? What form of penance must I perform?? I drank lots of fluids, took my colase, walked around a lot, what more must I do?? I know it must be possible. There is no way I have gone over 24 hours without you, oh mighty gas, but the build up might cause one to wonder? Why am I so bloated that I resemble a pregnant women? I pace from window to window in the upstairs hallway forcing myself to keep moving, hoping that something else will move. I stare at the snow (yes snow!!) building up outside, and grow ever more anxious about my son's Scout troupe who picked tonight of all nights to camp outside! But alas, the snow is merely a passing distraction. The taunt skin stretched across my belly, is not from months of diet and exercise, but another reminder of my pain. Oh that I might have started my MS injectionable meds this week instead of next, that I might have a ready supply of needles to shove in my belly and release the trapped air, like a balloon, flying across the room, in gas releasing ecstasy. Oh gas ex, oh rolaids, oh mylanta. You are but a street away, locked behind chains and glass. When will my suffering end? When will this night...OH! Nevermind.