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 Combatting CodeinePosted 03.07.2005 by Turtle Head (53) I often wonder why I hear so little about the effects of narcotics and other medications on what is usually a pleasant part of most everyone's day -- the daily poop. So begins my tale. As have so many of us, in my early twenties I required the removal of my wisdom teeth. A pretty simple procedure for the most part. I had seen co-workers and friends go through it and it seemed like they were back to normal in a day or two. So I went off to the dentist with few worries. Certainly I wasn't thinking about how a little work at the beginning of my digestive tract would affect the ending of my digestive tract. As it turns out, my teeth were impacted. Two of them, badly. I actually awoke at one point during the extraction to the sight of a hammer descending towards my face. They had to break my teeth into pieces. Thank God they knocked me back out. I'll skip forward to getting home, sleepy and drugged up. I started taking my codeine as instructed. Dreaded codeine. I needed it for the pain. It was simply excruciating. Just moving hurt my face. It felt like shards of glass rolling around in my gums and brought tears to my eyes. More codeine, please! The next three days were a haze of codeine supplemented by vodka and Chef Boyardee Beefaroni. Vodka for pain, Beefaroni for its smooth, saucy delight. I could swallow one or two of the Chef's morsels at a time as I sat upright on the couch. No need to chew, barely a need to swallow. They just sort of slid down, like tomato sauce-covered slugs. Much like the codeine. Now for the fun. Did you know that codeine, like many other painkillers, causes constipation? (That's why junkies shoplift Ex-Lax. I'd always wondered why I caught them doing that. Now I know!) I realized at about day four that I hadn't taken a dump. What made me think of it was a weird, dull feeling in my gut. The pain felt better by now, so I decided it was likely time to unload some of the Chef's pasta. I sat, relaxed, grabbed a magazine to while away my time, and... nothing. I squiggled around some, trying to get things going. I farted; just a squeak. "Ahhh, there we go. Get moving boy!" Nada. Nothing. So I pushed a little -- just a test push, mind you. I kinda sorta felt some movement. Real close to my sphincter, but not quite there. This may require some more pushing. Five minutes later, I started to sweat from the pushing, and my teeth were throbbing. But I feel it! It's riiiiight there... oh my God -- WHAT THE FUCK! It came out. I swear I felt it come out. And then it WENT BACK. And why was my asshole twitching?! It felt like a science class frog hooked up to a twelve-volt battery, jumping and spasming with a life of its own. Frankenasshole! After a second or two, I pushed a little and checked out what was going on down there with a bit of toilet paper. Again, I felt it come out; and again, back in it went. Next, I did what any man in my position would do. I got up, got dressed, and went out to buy a thousand dollar stereo. Hey, chicks buy shoes, I buy stereos. I got home, and while the wife hooked up the stereo (she's a geek), I attempted to remove the pinecone that I was sure was lodged up my ass. Same results as before. Sweat, cursing, and the pinecone crawling up my ass. Off to the drugstore I went! Normally I am pretty private about my bowels. This was no time for modesty, though. I found the pharmacist in the back. A good looking girl, too. Damn my luck. What I said next surprised me as much as her, I think. "Excuse me," I said. She said, "Yes, sir?" I said, "I can't crap, and if you don't have anything to help me, I'm going to the emergency room." She blinked and looked at me like I was talking to myself, as if I had more to say, or was about to correct myself. I just looked back. It took her a second, but it finally registered, I guess. She actually came out of her little pharmacist box, walked me to the laxative aisle, handed me a green bottle, and told me to drink half of it when I got home. It was Magnesium of Citrate, and looked like a little bottle of ginger ale. Home I went. Drank half the bottle down. It was bitter but tolerable. Half an hour later I felt a little gurgle or two, but that was it. So I downed the bottle and sat on the couch to wait it out. Fifteen minutes after that, a few more gurgles. Then a lot of gurgles. Then I felt it moving down lower and lower. In a few minutes, I could actually feel this stuff moving through my digestive track, turning everything in its path to liquid. It was going REALLY fast now, like liquid fuckin' plumber. I hauled ass to the shitter -- at least, as fast as the pine cone up my ass would let me -- and sat in anticipation. Then it bottomed out. BAM! Right at that fucking pinecone. I could actually feel it trying to eat its way through. But alas, the gallon or two of burning liquefied shit insisted it had to get out, NOW! There was no pushing this time -- just pressure like I'd never thought I'd feel in my life, and an involuntary spasm of poor Frankenasshole. I thought of every lame prison sex joke I had ever heard as this pinecone, literally as big as a softball, forced its way out of my virgin ass. Tears and snot were flowing freely. I may have called out for my Mother, though I'm not sure. My ass snapped shut as the turd from hell exited, and then roared open again as the laxative-fueled butt-coffee erupted. I do remember squealing like a pig at this point, due to my brutally abused anus being tortured further by this poison running out of my body. Fortunately, it all came out at once. I gingerly cleaned up my butt and discovered that my ass was no longer an innie like my belly button, but an outtie of epic proportions. What was left in the bowl actually bubbled, like a witches brew; the Magnesium of Citrate was still dissolving that evil pinecone that had been up my ass. After half an hour, I could actually flush the toilet. Thank god for those old-fashioned high-volume toilets. I'm glad to report that in a day or so my stomach was back to normal, and my outtie returned to its normal innie status. Lessons learned: Chef Boyardee and Codeine followed by a Magnesium of Citrate chaser = exploding asshole. -- Turtle Head Post new comment
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