Levi OConnell I didn't always have IBS. In fact, for a time, I was just your average guy. But when I was sixteen, a ruptured appendix required emergency surgery. They saved my life, but my bowels would never be the same again. The doctors said I was just one of those unlucky patients... yeah, right, they probably screwed something up while they were poking around in there. It's something I'll have to deal with for as long as I live, and sometimes I wish I hadn't survived it after all.

I was just weeks shy of my eighteenth birthday when my girlfriend, Jen, informed me that she was pregnant. Thus my eighteenth birthday was spent in the midst of what was by far one of the most stressful periods of my life. During this period, my IBS attacks became significantly worse and more frequent, and my relationship with my girlfriend was left on rough waters. In fact, on that one day that I'll never forget, I had my worst IBS attack yet.

I left my girlfriend alone for about ten minutes to go to the mini mart to pick up some milk. I still vividly remember how I felt when I came home and she looked at me and plainly said, "Levi... it's time." I'm pretty sure I almost fainted when her words sunk in -- maybe I'm a weakling, but how would you expect an eighteen-year-old boy to feel when he's about to become a father?

We immediately packed our stuff into the car and left for the hospital, which was about forty minutes away. By the time we got there Jen was well into labor and having very painful contractions.

We were shown into our hospital room. I helped Jen get changed. The doctor briefly examined her and said everything was going smoothly, but she was only three centimeters dilated and the baby was still very high; so, he said, we might as well go downstairs and have some lunch while we had the chance.

We knew it would be a long day, so we decided to grab the opportunity while it was there. We weren't in the mood for anything heavy, so we went to the Tim Hortons in the hospital cafeteria. We both had bread with margarine. She had some water while I had a medium coffee with about three or four of those little packages of cream in it. Bad move.

After finishing our lunch, we went back upstairs. The next five hours passed ever so slowly as we spent the time casually talking and taking walks around the hallways. When the doctor finally announced that she was seven centimeters dilated, we were overjoyed -- the big moment we were waiting for was in sight. Then it was with a feeling of horror that I felt an all-too-familiar rumbling emanating from my belly, immediately followed by a sudden and intense urge to shit. Could my intestines have possibly chosen a worse time to act up?! I tried my best to ignore it and hold it back, but my bowels refused to be ignored. It was time to go, and there was no stopping it.

I casually told my girlfriend I had to use the washroom. Gazing at me with her beautiful eyes, all she said was, "Please hurry, Levi, I need you here with me." I kissed her and promised her I'd be quick about it.

Unfortunately our hospital room didn't have its own washroom, so I had to go out and hunt one down. I spent at least fifteen minutes wandering around the maternity ward with my ass cheeks clenched tight; but to my frustration, I couldn't find the damn washroom, so I had to gather some courage and ask one of the nurses for directions.

"Keep going down this hallway, turn right, then turn left, and keep going straight. It's just past the elevators." Great, more walking. I quickly said thanks and carefully sprinted down the halls, all the while keeping my quivering and bulging starfish shut. When I turned left I came to a long hallway, where large pane windows lined the wall. And then I saw it: my sanctuary, my safe haven, my oasis. Just a little further...

I dashed in and didn't even bother to lock the door. I had barely gotten my pants past my ass before the floodgates opened and colonic magma started pulsing out of my aching hole.

I thought it would never stop. I sat there helpless for what seemed like several minutes as my starfish showed the toilet no mercy. I quietly prayed and tried to tell myself this wasn't happening. Jen would never forgive me if I missed the birth of our baby. But the chocolate lava just kept coming and coming, and I listened intently as it hit the water.

At last Niagara Falls slackened off in to a watery trickle. To my dismay, it was one of those dreaded million-wipers. I'd used up almost the entire roll of toilet paper before my ass was finally clean. It was an amazing feeling, though, as I buckled up my pants and discovered that they seemed to fit even better than they did when I bought them. I turned to inspect the damage I'd done.

The water level had gone up by at least two inches, and there was black sludge splattered all over the sides of the bowl and the back of the seat. I flushed, which got rid of some of the mess; but since it felt like it had been hours since I'd left the hospital room, I decided to just leave things as they were.

When I opened the door, a girl who looked to be about thirteen or fourteen was waiting outside. She obviously heard me in there since she hadn't walked in, and as I was leaving, she glanced at me with disgust. I was so embarrassed that I pretended to not notice her and casually walked away. As I headed back to the hospital room, I howled with laughter as I heard the girl's horrified screams in the distance.

Fortunately, I was back before it was time for the Jen to start pushing. Of course, she was too focused on that to bother asking me why I was gone so long.

Twenty minutes later, my son arrived into the world.