Magnesium Citrate Blow-Out
It actually started about a week prior to that fateful night. One day, I didn't have a successful bowel movement. Well, that day turned into two days, and those two days turned into a week. I attempted several times to evacuate this massive block of feces during this time period, but no matter how hard I pushed (even though they say you're not supposed to push too hard), nothing came out.
So, after a week or so of not pooping and plenty of stomach pain, I felt the need to call in the troops. I went to the local drug store and picked up some Magnesium Citrate.
A lot of people don't even know about this product due to its lack of branding and its generic looking bottle; however, if you've ever visited a gastroenterologist, this is what they'll recommend as a stool softener.
So I got my bottle of MC and went to work that morning. Luckily I work in a small office with very few people, most of whom were not there that day. I drank the entire bottle that morning and then I waited. It was very crucial that this process was complete before 5:00 that day because it was the night of my fiancé's office Christmas party. Coincidentally, she just happened to work for a group of gastroenterologists.
Around lunchtime the pain in my stomach became overwhelming, to the point at which I had to call my boss and tell him I must go home immediately to lie down. I was having excruciating stomach pains. Once I got home, I could barely walk. I managed to make it to my bed, where I just laid still. It hurt to move at all. I never felt the urge to go, though, and I ended up falling asleep after about an hour.
I woke up around 3:30 or so still with the agony residing in my lower abdomen. Luckily my fiancé got off work early that day so she could get ready for the party. She came over. She knew about my predicament and offered any help she could, telling me I needed to get up and walk around a bit.
So I got up and did a load of laundry. Meanwhile, she took my spot on the bed and fell asleep. And not much longer after she dozed off, it happened.
I ran -- actually, it was much more of a stiff-legged hop -- from my kitchen all the way to the bathroom in my bedroom. This was it. It was time. I was going to do it no matter what. The pain was too great for this to be another false alarm. I told myself no matter how much it hurt, it was going to come out this time. So I bore down on the counter next to my toilet with one hand, gripped the soft green toilet seat with my other, closed my eyes, and pushed.
SLAM! It sounded like a bomb coming out of a cannon. I felt as if my rear end had dilated over four times its normal size for this birth. Out of breath, I sat there for a minute, allowing the small amounts of liquidy substance to follow this massive brick of poo out of my system.
Okay, I said to myself, I'd better flush this before the second wave of diarrhea hits me. I turned to face this evil villain that had plagued me for a week now, but the water was too dark to see the culprit that sat at the bottom like lead weight. Still, I was ready to say goodbye to this massive ball of waste. So, without a square of toilet paper in the bowl, I pushed the little death lever to flush my toilet.
Big mistake. The poop was so large and so thick that it alone completely stopped up my toilet. The water began to rise.
Now, I've had my share of overflowing toilets. I knew how to handle this. I'll just reach down and quickly turn off the water to avoid any spillage.
This time, that did not work. The water, the poo, and bits of God knows what all came pouring out. I tried to quickly swipe up my rugs and bathroom mats, but it was too late -- they had already been contaminated by that vile substance now all over the bathroom floor.
At a loss as to what to do, another problem quickly reared its head: I still had more in me that needed to immediately come out. With no time to think, I sat back down and let 'er rip. The toilet water had gone down some, so more overflowing wasn't much of an issue.
After I finished I stood up and, without any place to stand, stepped into my bathtub. When I looked over at the toilet, I was actually able to actually see what this batch looked like. To my surprise, there were very strange pieces of an unknown substance floating around in the bowl. I immediately became alarmed. What if this was part of my insides? What if some of my intestinal wall was afloat inside my toilet!?
Very nervous and panicky and still out of breath, I whimpered for my fiancé, asleep in the next room. It was a miracle she heard me. I told her there was a mess in the bathroom, but it was an emergency and I needed her to look at something.
My wonderful wife-to-be is always there for me and would do anything for me. And the fact that she worked at a gastroenterologist's helped; but she would have done this anyway. She opened the door and laughed because there I stood, clinging to my shower curtain, pantsless and still leaking from my rear end. I asked her to please look at what I saw. She did, and reassured me that it was some sort of food, more than likely barbecue eaten about three days before.
Slightly relieved, we conjured up a clean-up plan because, even after all this, we still had to get ready for her Christmas party in this very bathroom. (We have two bathrooms; however, the other one is my roommate's, and since he was home, I wasn't going to go walking through my house naked to get there.) I threw down some towels (the ones I didn't really like anyway) and my fiancé went into the kitchen to get some garbage bags. We cleaned up as best we could because time was running short and both of us needed showers (especially me). I still had urges to continue the evacuation process, but I was forced to hold it in until we reached a point where I could relieve myself in a toilet that could withstand massive amounts of liquid and poo. I let my fiancé shower first (after I cleaned the shower out a bit); I planned to follow while she blow-dried her hair.
We were really coming down to the wire now. It was finally my turn to get cleaned up. I hopped into the shower and turned on the water. Much to my surprise, there was absolutely no hot water. My butt and my legs were covered in fecal matter and I had to wash it all off with freezing cold water. I thought this night couldn't get any worse until I realized I needed to shave as well. So there I was, standing in a waterless shower, dry-shaving and turning on the water only to rinse my razor. I followed my painful (yet refreshing!) shave by throwing water at myself from the faucet and then trying to lather up some soap. It was a very difficult process and I hope to never have to do it again.
We ended up being about fifteen minutes late to the Christmas party, but no one really noticed, which was good because we didn't have to explain to anyone why we were late. Looking back at that night, I often laugh at the events and how they unfolded. That will be a Christmas party I never forget.