I have a stupid ritual on the mornings that I have my college classes. Since I will never take a dump at school, I sit on the pot three or four times at home before I leave for class to try and force out anything that is in me. In reality, there is nothing up my ass; it is all anxiety. If it was a day that I did not have to go to class, I would be relaxed and pain-free.
Last Wednesday, forty minutes before class, I was on my home pot doing my usual thing, trying to force out something. A sliver of wet poop exited my rectum and I wiped. The toilet paper was smeared with dookie and a bright red substance. Panicked, I wiped again and it was bloody. The crap in the toilet was also orange and maybe bloody. Freaking out, I told my wife about it. She said it was nothing; she has hemorrhoids and has dealt with bloody stools for years. My wife was kind enough to examine my asshole and she said I had a bright red "bump" sticking out of my bunghole.
I forget to include one important detail: on this Wednesday morning, I filled my crockpot with the fixings for chili. I used the spices from a Texas Chili bag that my wife bought me when she was on a business trip in Houston earlier this year.
Anyway, after seeing the blood in my poop, I was a basket case. I never pooped again on that Wednesday, but I did eat a lot of chili that evening, which contains tomatoes and bright red peppers. I stressed myself out all day that I had colon cancer, especially after surfing the web and reading about the symptoms.
Thursday morning, two AM. I wake up with some serious cramps. I held the load as long as I could -- I never poop in the middle of the night. But there was no way I was going back to sleep, so I jumped on the pot and squeezed it out. It was long, brown, beautiful, and blood-free. I dropped more logs at five AM, nine AM, and eleven AM. All blood-free, I think -- the turds all had a red tinge which could have been either the chili or the cancer.
I ate leftover chili on Thursday and Friday afternoons.
Friday morning, I had to go to school. I went through the same stupid ritual. The only difference was now I was scared to force out a log -- I figured that straining would pop another hemmy or the tumor up my ass and I would bleed. I squeezed out a red speckled log (hopefully red peppers and chili beans) and then wiped. The smear on the paper was a reddish brown. After flushing, I went to my refrigerator and examined the last of the chili. It was the exact same color of the smear on that toilet paper.
I never shat again on Friday. Saturday morning was a bitch. I had to be somewhere at two PM and I could not drop a load, even though I had a strong desire. Between eight AM and one PM, I must have tried ten times to drop something off in my bowl, but nothing happened. Every time I felt something on the edge on my bunghole, I was afraid to push to hard. I was so scared of ripping something.
I never did take that dump. I spent the afternoon at my appointment walking around feeling like I had a spike-covered dildo up my ass.
That sight of that blood on my toilet paper has really fucked up my head. It was a one-time thing, but I fear it so much that my asshole has become a shy cave that won't produce those large, beautiful logs of yesteryear. God help me.