It turns out that if you're taking stool samples for an occult blood test, you can't eat red meat three days before sampling. You also can't eat citrus or vitamin C supplements. They screw up the test results. So I had to put the test off for a few days because the day I opened that baby up, ready to go...I had just cooked spaghetti sauce. So no go.
Two or three days pass and I forget...and ate tacos. Somewhat questionable tacos. So I figured that set me back to the beginning too. Then of course, there's what I like to call the "inappropriate pooping times" problem. Because the GI tract waits for no one. And apparently my subconscious likes to hold onto such things for the most convenient time for itself. Which means...if must prepare myself to poop in an odd place, I suppose it's just going to clamp down that little sphincter and suck everything back up inside of me three feet.
You know, I don't normally have pooping problems. Well, no that's a LIE. I developed pooping problems in grad school that are directly tied to my moods and how much fiber I'm eating. They're very predictable. If we need to have a ctest where we are filmed with patient actors, I'm going to poop three times before it happens. Some kind of sympathetic response to prepare for fight or flight. Or clinical exams.
But these are the kinds of problems that shouldn't be a problem when you're trying to collect poop right? You can never have too much when you're actually trying to fitter it away right?
Well, I guess that emotional response is a smart one. Nope, not gonna poop now. Yes...Wait till school when it is impossible to take a sample. Yes....
Fast forward, one week later from my appointment. I'M SORRY DR. G. I'M SO SORRY. I STILL HAVEN'T POOPED FOR YOU.
Ahem. One week later, something magical is happening to my schedule. A three day weekend. If I'm going to poop, I must do it NOW. I've read all the directions, I've been thinking about my container, hell, I've almost pooped in it twice. My mental fortitude has resolved to do this.
But my body still wants no part. She, my GI that is, is going to sabotage me as though her life depended on it. Why she's become a primadonna now, I'll never know. You have pooped in the woods. You have squatted over very questionable toilets and still managed a bowel movement. You have pooped in the Peruvian mountains behind a rock while a bunch of men and caballos where literally passing by into view. And you had to do acrobatics around other poops to complete this task as well! So what's the problem.
Oh yeah, I'm collecting this. Yeah, that makes things different.
But she can't weasel herself out of this now! I'm on guard, round the clock. There is no schedule, no school, no reason to actually be around people, and no pathetic attempts to see if I can hold it.
Lock down isolation. Let's do this.
No comments:
Post a Comment