WHAT A HARD NIGHT! Figuratively and literally. Out of all the chemo rounds, I have never had the displeasure of constipation. Of course, my body desiring to experience it all decided it was time to "Poop or get off the pot" about constipation. For the past week, no amount of water, fiber, ANYTHING could get things to move, so last night, crabby uncomfortable and in pain I turned to Senecot. I was tired of biting off heads over the least little thing. It is never good to induce anything. Giving birth the Midwives all warn not to induce labor unless absolutely necessary. As kids, moms would say, "don't force, dear, it will just make things worse..." and for me, taking a laxitive was the "break the glass" measure. I knew by taking it I was in for a rough night; I was FOS (full of shit), and once things started it was going to be Hell to pay.
It was. Simple as that. The pain is worse than child birth. I thought several times I would pass out. My arms were buzzing with strange signals, the nausea, the light-headedness, the cramping; it seemed to go on forever without resolve. Of course the middle of the night was when things decided to move, so try as I might, the pain was too much and the crying out became necessary because I truly thought I'd faint. Ian was the first to arrive at the bathroom door. "Get me a chair to lean on." Magically a chair. Ed arrived shortly after pushing a worried Ian back to bed. Ed stood on the other side of the door helplessly standing by for whatever he could do, if anything. Time and the pain marched on, and I begged for something other than what I felt. I'd close my eyes and all I could see were flashes of raindrops on the back of my eyelids. My brain was buzzing with confusion and fear. I thought that soon I'd implode and secretly hoping it would be all over, and I'd find my Heaven. Once things "decided" to go, I was violently evacuated. Why do girls choose to do this to be thin? I'd rather be the size of a barn, than choose this as a way to control weight.
I know this post is ugly and no one ever wants to talk about poo, but this is for me to look back on and say, "I made it through that night." It is a reality of Cancer and it's treatment. I choose not to sugarcoat anything. Good is good, and ugly is ugly. Sometimes no matter what you do to avoid the train wreck, it still happens.
After 2 hours in the bathroom, I emerged exhausted, 500lbs. lighter, and in a complete cold sweat. I slept on the couch because 1. it was closer to the bathroom 2. Ed had suffered enough, he deserved uninterrupted sleep. I tossed and turned, still suffering the aftershocks of my own devastating earthquake, and in the moments of sleep I got, the cats made sure to wake me with their nocturnal antics. Morning came and the routine had to be met. Ian is off to school, Ed is still asleep, and I sit here still feeling dehydrated after drinking 4 big glasses of water, zapped of any energy I might have had today, and low and behold, I DON'T feel empty. Hopefully the dam has been broken and the worst is over.
So my day is devoted to rest. I am spent. I'd rather have IBS issues any day of the week over constipation. I'm through the knothole, and that is a good thing.
Sorry to be the party pooper, but it is my party....
Nite!
Light and Love!
Melissa
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