In many substance abuse situations, the addict is forced to confront the damage his/her actions have wrought upon his/her friends. Unable to escape the evidence, the addict sees that actions must be changed to correct, to make amends. The tactic is known as an intervention.
This is what I felt happened to me on Saturday after playing basketball all day and eating nothing but a ton of pizza. It wasn't until after the ride home, in which I puked out the driver's side window and all over Jeff's car Big Red, the BQE and a Mercedes behind us, that I had my intestinal intervention.
Getting home, I rushed into the bathroom, because -- aside from shotgun vomit -- I could feel the waves of heavy diarrhea pummeling my clinched butthole. I got to sitting position just in time for a near-total liquid expulsion.
The gag reflex of nausea had not subsided, though, and I needed to turn and let my mouth expel into the brown cloudy bowl.
As revolting as puking into your own fecal matter is, the state of extreme illness sometimes gives me a Superman-like ability to stomach (or un-stomach, in this case) the awfulness. As I succumbed to the wretch, my whole body was given over to letting out any remaining stomach contents.
Puking is a truly engulfing experience, as everyone knows, but exactly the consequences of such surrender are never met by most people. For example: the stomach contractions of the up-chucking are so severe, they can unintentionally release other muscles -- in this case, the clinching poo hole.
And so it was, while puking, I lost a squirt onto the floor of my bathroom.
Quickly sitting down to let the watery crap go where it should (in the toilet), I found the heaves were not done. Realizing I had spared my pants untold laundry shame, I gave in and puked a little puddle on the floor.
The barf allowing me to reach my true nadir. There they sat: one small circle of brown liquid with jet-black chunks in it and one little pool of some orange-white watery cottage cheese substance. An excretory Gemini of near-celestial horrible beauty.
I have been shown my the error of my dietary ways, in extremely graphic fashion.
-- Mark [1]