Wee bit worried

I’ve hurt my back, dear friends.  And badly.  I am, without exaggeration, the 60-year younger version of that old lady from the commercial nasty little teenagers used to make fun of : ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’.

Back injuries are the worst.  I won’t bore you with the details, (though I could regale you with the funny visuals of me bending down and having to hand-walk myself back up on whatever pieces of furniture are available, grimaces and grunts aplenty) but I will warn you of some unforeseen… unpleasantries, we’ll say – that accompany an injury like this.

You might see it coming – I didn’t- as I’ve never been a big pill popper I haven’t established a ready mental list of possible side effects that accompany various medications.  But a gf was quick to the draw; I’d been telling her how happy & relieved I was to have finally gotten some ‘real’ drugs (I’d been near inhaling over-the-counter backpain pills before finally getting into the doc) and cheerfully informed her that I was now rotating a heavy duty anti-inflammatory with T3 Codeine.

She goes, ‘Whoa!  Wouldn’t that totally bung you up?’

Ha, ha you say.  Very funny indeed, how bang on she was.

I actually hadn’t realized it at first; I hadn’t yet experienced any discomfort, I’d been busy commuting into Calgary and I was so consumed with the pain in my back, nothing else even registered.  I’d been to the doctor who, along with writing me my blessed Rx, had sent me for x-rays, and it was the call back from them that first tipped me off.  Apparently, a – ahem – ‘back up’ of significant proportion is visible on an x-ray.  How embarrassing.

So I thought about it for a moment (can anyone – any woman, that is -actually answer right away when their last poop was?) and realized it actually had been a while.

So I carried on, doing what I could to help nature to take its course (which never, ever works by the way.  Fly immediately to prescribed/homeopathic/over the counter assistance, I say) and of course it didn’t, so after a few angst-ridden, wretched days, I ventured, apprehensively, into the realm of poop inducers.

Quite the market, dear friends.  All sorts of pills and tablets and chewable whatnots.  Never a fan of pills and terrified of swallowing a bottle of liquid explosion and blowing a tornado out my ass, I decided to start with tea.

Organic herbal laxative, Senna, it was called.  I figured this was an excellent step 2 to the Organic ginger digestive aid tea I’d already been taking.  The directions said to take 1/2 – 1 cup of brewed tea once daily, at bedtime, and ‘movement’ (props to their marketing team for coming up with that one) should occur within 6-12 hours.

I considered this ’1/2 – 1 cup’ directive for a moment… cupped my rock hard, bulging abdomen with one hand and my broken lower back with the other… and had 3 cups.  The situation was dire, dear friends, don’t judge me!

Besides – it didn’t work.  24 hours later, breaking out in a cold sweat & staring longingly at the toilet, my gaze shifted to the little blue box on the kitchen counter.  I chewed my lip nervously.  Remembered the time – over ten years ago – I dabbled into this box of darkness and ended up wishing for death.

My belly bulged against my sweat pants.  (Hot.  I know.)  I grabbed & tore open the box and tossed a square of the little foil wrapped chocolate in my mouth in one fluid motion, all the while averting my eyes from the Exlax label.

Mission failed.  Who would have ever thought I’d wake up sorry I hadn’t been woken in the night from an earthquake erupting out my ass.  And yet – there I was.  Fat & bloated & hopped up on painkillers.  (but not so much as to interfere with my parenting – I embellish, for the sake of story-telling.)

Of course I also tried natural run-of-the-mill remedies.  Naturally fibrous foods, like oranges, for instance.  Broccoli.  Grainy things.  I’ve eaten Indian, Thai, and Vietnamese, chili peppers on everything.   All of which is vying for room in my guts.

Enter tonight.  Aside from a few misleading rabbit pellets there’s been no action down there and I am in a panic.  I can’t seem to get any movement down there but I can’t stop taking my pills.  There’s nothing funny or amusing about back pain and certainly no way to write it up in any funny or amusing manner, so I’ve glossed over it but the fact is – I’m in relentless pain here, rendered embarrassingly incapable, and poor baby girl doesn’t understand why mummy won’t pick her up all the time anymore.  And this  - blockage, if you will – is only exacerbating the issue.  Bluntly put – I need to poop, and not a little.  We’re talking warn-the-neighbours-obtain-childcare-ensure-the-plumbing-is-up-to-grade-and-stock-up-on-scented-candles, kind of poop.

To be honest – at this point – I’m rather afraid.  I was only half kidding about the plumbing bit there.  I mean my gaawwwd, I’ve got a United Nations food fight going on in my guts and I haven’t shit in over a week. GAK.

So tonight I’m loading up, full throttle.  Fibre, tea, Exlax, etc.  I’m hoping to spend all night on the pooper (have even placed book on bathroom counter in anticipation!) and hopefully you won’t hear from me for few blissful poop-filled days.

Or you’ll hear from me tomorrow demanding remedies.  Fingers crossed.

 

Tagged as: back pain, blockage, constipation, drugs, injury, laxatives, pain, painkillers, poop