'Twas the night before Rosh Hashanah
And all was not well.
For two weeks my bowels produced
Not even a smell!
Three Ex-Lax I popped in hopes of a poop
And sat on the pot awaiting the fruit.
For hours I grunted, brow beaded with sweat
And fell to the floor, my goal still not met.
Upon waking I knew -- yes, it was fact --
The time had come to *cringe* "digitally" extract
So in went the finger and out came the goods;
And what happened next, my friends... never should.
Blood came pouring like a river to sea
What was happening inside; I could not conceive!
When finally it seemed over, I crawled back into bed
And woke to find the gas I'd passed running down my leg!
Off to the hospital for the dreaded colonoscopy.
It wasn't fair! It wasn't right! I wasn't even twenty-three!
Two weeks in a hospital bed with doctors gathered 'round
They told me I had Crohn's... but no evidence found.
Spent a week with morphine drip and floatie-infested soup.
They sent me home and said, "Madame, please call when you poop!"
I waddled out the doors with a sore arse and a boatload of pills
But not one answer to go with the offensively exorbitant bills.
So you wish know how this gastro mystery was to unfold?
Well, the Doc called a week later and asked if I took birth control.
"No," I said, "I take only one pill." What came next is priceless --
It seems the drug Wellbutrin can cause Ischemic colitis.