my girlfriend won't/can't poop away from home
My girlfriend can't poop outside of her home or apartment at school. Is there anything I can do to help her along and also what are the harms, so she knows, of going days without passing.
Thanks for the question!
I can understand where your girlfriend is coming from, as I won't poo either, away from familiar facilities unless there is absolutely no other way out.
Case in point: Last weekend, Mr. Poonurse and I were invited "Up North" for a snowmobiling weekend. (I have never been snowmobiling, and have not particularly ever wanted to) But we were invited by friends, and for various reasons we wound up going.
They had a BEAUTIFUL cabin in the woods. The kind of place that makes you realize how hopelesslly squalid and horrible your own house is. I considered the snowmobiling part just the price I had to pay to get away for a few days. We had to board all the dogs, at a cost of damn near $260. This made me cranky to begin with, seeing how we are in the middle of a bankruptcy and I am apparently the ONLY ONE who is trying to be careful with our money. Plus, not only do I not like snowmobiling, I don't like snow. And this place had snow up the whazoo. I mean, like 4 feet of snow in some places.
Anyway, I had too much coffee the first morning, and it triggered the urge for a tremendous poo (hadn't gone the day before, what with fighting with Mr. Poonurse about the weekend outing and all). I successfully fought the poo urge all through the day snowmobiling. For the record, let me tell you that I just DON'T GET SNOWMOBILING! I mean, these people are insane. Hour after hour of pounding up and down, up and down, up and down these little hilly things, like whoop-te-doos, that made you think your arms were going to fall off, your teeth were fracturing from the repeated impact with your lower jaw, and your thumb was permanently paralyzed from trying to keep on the gas...I just don't understand the appeal. There were also complicated hand signals they tried to teach me, for when other snowmobilers were passing your group. I gave up, and gave the only "hand signal" I could remember, which was the middle finger salute. Turns out many snowmobilers don't have a sense of humor about this.
Anyway, after about 8 hours of "fun", I gave up and headed back without the group. I was done, and could now cross "snowmobiling" off my list of things to do before I die. Been there, done that...I had no intentions of going back out there into a wintery hell.
But now, alone in the house, the urge to poop returned. I recognized that there was no way I could defeat this urge for 2 more days. I would have to go. As there was no one home, I felt I could accomplish my mission unheard, unseen, and unsmelled.
I unloaded a very unfeminine log in a noisy, smelly, yet satisfying manner. I had to use copious amounts of TP to clean up the aftermath. (after all, I'M not paying for it, right?) As soon as I flushed, I knew there was going to be trouble. It wouldn't go down! Damn low flow toilets...they should be banned, I say. I didn't panic immediately. Surely people who had such a nice vacation home would have a plunger somewhere! I searched high and low. No dice. No plunger anywhere. I moved into survival mode, as they would be returning soon. I resorted to something I had had to do years before in a similar situation. Locating the closet, I selected a sturdy coathanger that I thought suitable for the job. Steeling myself for the task at hand, I set to work.
Yes, I stirred and chopped up the turd/toilet paper soup up into manageable (I hoped) pieces. I gave a test flush. The water rose, swirled slightly, and receded a little. Most of the bigger pieces went on to their watery graves, but there was still evidence left over. I kept at it methodically, chopping and flushing, until at last there was no more brown to be seen. The toilet still wasn't flushing right, but at least no one would be able to pin it on ME, which is the whole point. I thought about what to do with the coat hanger, and decided that it wouldn't be right to simply put it back with my fecal molecules still on it, so I took it outside and threw it in a large snowdrift. I figured by the time the snow melted, no one would be able to link it to us.
I assumed an innocent pose on the couch, watching TV, when the group returned. We went out to dinner eventually, and returned quite late. As luck would have it, Mr. Poonurse was the first to use the commode when we got back. YES. He was taking a dump! I heard the toilet flush, and heard him say "Oh, shit". He ran to get me, and I acted appropriately outraged that he had clogged up these nice people's toilet. I made him go ask them for a plunger, which they had to go out and BUY, or no one would have been able to go to the bathroom.
Serves them all right, in my mind. #1--I don't like snowmobiling. And, #2--everyone should have a plunger.
So tell your girlfriend not to trust toilets away from home. They can force you to do sickening things.
Please be advised that I am only a Poonurse. I am NOT a medical doctor. Any advice I give should be taken moderate skepticism. Please consult a REAL medical doctor if you feel you have a serious medical condition.
Poonurse is an RN with 25 years experience in labor and delivery. Her qualifications include seeing a lot of poop, and owning a computer. Also, she works in Michigan, which she calls the asshole of the universe, so that's another bit of credibility.
Got a question for her?