Treadmills and Poopshivers

August 15, 2014 started out just fine.  But then some portal from hell burst forth and grabbed me by the female balls and proceeded to torture me with the force and anger of a baby who’s favorite binky has been stolen.

I rolled out of bed at 5:45 A.M. and walked out the door at 6:45ish.  The ride to Fresno with my man and his brother was as it always is;  manly discussions of Magic the Gathering, Titanfall, and other geeky, nerdy, dorky things.  We were accompanied by Bob and Tom on the radio which was actually amusing this morning.  Eventually we made it to hubby’s work and I switched from our car over to my mom’s.

It’s always so much fun, and exercise, to hang out with mom. The woman is in her 70’s and runs around like a 21 year old.  It’s downright exhausting.  But worth it to be with my mom.  We had some time before I had to be at my cardiologist’s office for a stress test, so we went over to the recycler to drop off… you guessed it!  Recyclables.  After that, we went over to Uncle Harry’s to get awesome bagels. I got sesame with cream cheese, mom got some orange cranberry thing that smelled like heaven.  We drove over to the cardiologist’s office and ate and chatted in the car until it was time for me to go in.

We said our goodbyes and I love yous and then I went in.

I checked in still a bit early so I sat in a comfy chair in the waiting room.  this is when hell started peeking it’s nose into my realm.  My lower abdomen began to cramp a little.  It felt like gas.  Really?  The last thing I need at a treadmill stress test is gas.

Dun, dun, DUN!

I was alone at the moment here in the waiting room so I do what women are so very good at.  I discreetly let out a bit of silent gas.  I am relieved to find it doesn’t smell.  But the release doesn’t seem to help any.

After a bit I get called back. The nurse takes me to an exam room, gives me a gown and instructions, and tells me the tech will be in to get me in a few minutes.  I remove my shirt and bra and put the gown on with the opening in front.  I sit and wait for the tech.  My stomach is now more than gassy, I feel as if I am having menstrual cramps.  Lovely, I’ve been on my period for five days now, it should be ending, not starting!  On top of the pain, I am still worrying about having gas while running on a treadmill.  The embarrassment will be enough to shatter my fragile existence.

It’s impossible to hold in farts while running.

It doesn’t take long for the tech to come get me.  We walk over to the testing room.  He asks me to lay on my back on the table.  I inform him I just had eye surgery and am not supposed to be on my back.  He says it will only be for a couple minutes, is that OK?  I think it will be fine.  Several minutes later he has me roll onto my side and does the pre-exercise ultrasound of my heart.  He then finishes up hooking me up to all the machines.  The doctor hasn’t arrived at the office yet, so I am left alone to wait and dwell on the growing pain and urgency in my lower abdomen.  I now feel gassy, crampy, and rumbley.  Yay!  I am considering taking all these machines with me into the restroom.  I have an aversion to using public restrooms and this is the sole reason I have not yet made that trip. At this point, I hate myself and all my stupid quirks.

This is the only time I have ever been happy a doctor was late.

The tech comes back into the room to get something.

“I hate to ask you this terrible question…”

“You have to use the restroom, don’t you?”

*sheepish smile* “Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, you’d be surprised at how many people do this.”

“If it’s too much trouble to unhook me, I can hold it.”  OMG!  Please unhook me!

“It’s no trouble at all, I just need to unplug two things, then you’ll have to carry all these wires in with you.”

“I promise I wont let them fall in.”

“Please don’t.”  He smiles.

I shuffle on over to the restroom which is a tiny one toilet room with a sink and a push doorknob lock.  At least it has a fart fan.  I can hear everything going on outside the door which means they can probably hear me.  The business I do is not what I expect (explosions of volcanic magnitude) but it does leave me feeling a bit better.  I gather myself and walk back to the testing room.

By time I get back the doctor has arrived and we jump right into the test.  Surprisingly the only discomfort I feel regarding my tummy during the test is a bit of menstrual like cramping.  The test doesn’t last too long and I find that my heart is healthy but I am out of shape.

Once the running stops I have to get back on the table for the post-exercise ultrasound.  This is when that hell portal decides to open much wider and grab a lot tighter.  The cramping and rumbling come back with a passion.  All I want to do is get out of this place.  Why have they not invented teleportation yet!?  I need my toilet!  The one I have an intimate and private and very personal relationship with.

The test is done, the doctor blessedly has not much to say because all the news is good.  I get dressed, stop in the lobby to make my next appointment, and then leave.

This is when I remember I have to call, and wait, for my ride home.   SHIT!

I decide to walk slowly across the street to the 99cent store.  I call my ride while on my way.  Once at the store I walk around slowly, trying not to to look like I am on the verge of literally losing my shit.  I finally decide to buy something and get in line.  The line is long and it takes several year like minutes to finally pay and get out of there.

My ride hasn’t arrived yet.  My bowels are battling with my strength and will to restrain them.   This is not comfortable at all.  I think I am on the verge of birthing a demon.  I casually walk back into the store and ask the cashier if they have a restroom.

“Back right corner.”

Why do stores always have to put their restrooms in the deepest darkest corners of Mordor?!  I begin the journey to Never Never Land putting all my might into not letting the demon win.  Walking ever so nonchalantly to the back of the store.

The restroom is what you would expect a restroom in a 99cent store to look like.  It looked like an alcohol fueled bum party had burst forth through the doors and left every ounce of filth behind.  It was disgusting, but I was having a down right emergency here.  I did take a second to put down a useless paper guard even though my bowels screamed for me to skip that step.  I was in the bathroom from skid row for awhile.  Long enough to have this text conversation with my hubby.

“In the shitter, be out soon.”

“Just got here.”

“Exploding…be a few minutes.”

“At the back near cold stuff.”

“KK.   Got the poopshivers so bad.”

“O no.”

“Didn’t have to pay doc this time.”  This was in regards to my co-pay at the cardiologist.

“Oh good.”

Finally I felt good enough to escape the bathroom from Jaba’s palace.  My hubby was empathetic but still wanted to shop.  We wandered the store for about ten minutes, then the cramping started again.

“OK, let’s go.”  Hubby says.

“You go pay, I’ll meet you at the car.”  I head back to the bathroom from shit creek.

Several minutes pass and I once again feel good enough to separate myself from the cursed porcelain throne.  I walk casually out to the car.

Now, I have noticed that it’s about every 10-15 minutes that I get the really bad and urgent waves of demon spawned cramping.  The ride home is at least 20 minutes.  Hmmm.

Right on schedule, about five minutes from relief comes the biggest, most urgent rippling wave of cramp I’ve had yet.

“Oh my god! It’s like I’m in labor!”  I feel like Satan is prompting me to push, push, push!

By time we make it home I have been working so hard at not pooping myself that I now feel nauseated on top of it all.  I make my way to my precious, private, comfortable bathroom and rip off all, yes, ALL of my clothes and settle in for the long haul.

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