Top 10 Activities to do on the Toilet.

10.  Read a book
I can’t tell you how many books I have read on the toilet.  No, really.  I can’t tell you.  I honestly don’t remember.  I chalk that up to suppressing memories.

9.  Text or talk on your phone

Now, this one I remember doing.  I was texting or talking on the phone probably the majority of my visits.  The text usually involved…  “I’m pooping. J”  Sometimes, if they were lucky, I would even send a picture.  Don’t worry folks.  I only sent pictures of my best poops.  I’m talking the 6 inch solid stool.  This “log” was a rarity.  When 99.9% of my stools were coming out…well, I don’t want to ruin the food you’re eating right now.  Oh, too late?  Sorry!      

8.  Play Sudoku or any other games

I’m not really a game person, but when you are were making as many long visits as I was, you’ll stoop to anything to entertain yourself.  The only time I found myself playing Sudoku was at my in-laws house.  They always had games and books lying around the toilet.  There are too many numbers involved in Sudoku, so if there was a book or magazine, I usually chose that.  My favorite book of theirs was called “Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader.”  Books made for reading while pooping…Genius!

7.  Pray for your life

I spent a lot of time praying on the toilet.  Most of the time, my prayers were for healing and strength to get me through the next agonizing moments of my life.  There were even times when I prayed for death.  Clearly, missing the middle of a story, a date night, or a joke on the toilet was not what I would call living.  Life was filled with more pain than peace.  There were times when I just wanted it all to end, Lord willing of course.  Apparently, God answered my prayers in a different way.     

6.  Think about your life

Plenty of moments were spent thinking about what was the purpose of my life?  Why me?  Why am I going through this?  What is the point of having a disease that makes me shit uncontrollably?  Is this real life?  Seriously, I really have a disease that makes me shit uncontrollably!  My life was like a cruel joke.  All that time, spent shitting uncontrollably, gave the time to come up with my theory on why this was happening to me.

It’s the Devil!  Pretty much it is his entire fault.  Yes, God did allow the Devil to slowly kill me from the inside out, but he was using my disease for good. 

5.  Study

Who am I kidding?  I didn’t study on the toilet.  If I tried to study on the toilet, not only would that add to my misery, but I’d probably have toilet seat butt from falling asleep sitting down.  It would not surprise me if someone in a similar position as me would study while dropping a bomb.  When you spend as much time on the toilet as we IBDers do, you find ways to make that time productive.  Sometimes that means being creative.  Hence, we have the chapter of the Top Ten Things to do on the Toilet.

4. Watch a movie

Now, I don’t really remember watching a movie on the toilet.  I do remember sitting my laptop outside of my bathroom door and watching Lost on DVD.  I was blessed enough to have my own bathroom being a Resident Assistant (RA) in a dorm with suites.  Huge BLESSING!  Trust me.  No one wanted to use the same toilet as me when I was done with it.  Anyway, back to the movie thing. Two and half seasons of Lost were watched in one summer RA session.  I couldn’t get into the third season so I moved on to other ways of occupying my poopy time.

3.  Singing

I find myself singing on the toilet all the time…in the comfort of my home bathroom anyway.  When I’m in a public restroom, I generally sing in my head.  I actually have a theme song.  “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” by the Gap Band, is generally the song the pops into my head.  Other favorites include, “You are my Sunshine, anything from the hymnal, and “Call Me Maybe.”  I just can’t get it out of my head.

I thought I'd include the music video for your viewing pleasure.  Enjoy!

2.  Facebook

You don’t have to have a chronic disease that makes you poop uncontrollably to Facebook while you ‘drop a bomb’.  I’m pretty sure this is a cultural norm these days.  I just hope that people are not touching their technical devices once they have started the wiping process and have washed their hands.  Gross!  As long as you don’t touch anything and are just sitting, then my OCD and I are on good terms.

1.  Play Catchphrase with your friends on the other side of the door.

This is by far the best thing to do on the toilet…especially if you have awesome friends like I do.  In preparation for my Ileostomy surgery, my dear friends Amber, Leanne, and of course Jeremy kept me company while the gallon of Miralax was working its magic.  We had played a few games while I was drinking the mixture of lime Gatorade and Miralax.  When the magic started happening, I sat on the toilet while they gave clues to the Catchphrase word.  This is my favorite game!  If I was going down in this bomb fight, at least I was going down playing a game I love. 

In all of this murky water, I was so thankful to have people supporting me!

Part 2: Depends

Hope, pride, and any modesty I had left were lost that day.  It triggered a change inside of me.  I was another step closer to a life changing decision.  Before, I could drastically change my life; I had more fighting to do.  With my pride already down the toilet, I decided it was time to depend on something more reliable than my elegant Victoria Secret underwear.  It was time for Depends.

Standing in line at the Walmart with my first package of size Small women’s Depends, my mind reminisced on the days I used to buy these for my grandma.  I hoped that’s what the cashier thought I was buying them for when the package came rolling up to the scanner.  Maybe the bottles of ensure along with the diapers would throw any thoughts that I was buying them for myself out by the wayside.  As I looked at my purchase, acting as nonchalant as possible, I couldn’t help but think that I was a 21 year old trapped in a sexy 70 year olds body.  This is my life now.  It’s official.  I’m a 21 year old, who wears diapers, trapped in a damn sexy 70 year olds body.

Once I returned my 70 year old intestines to the refuge that was my dorm room, I had to see the damage for myself.  As I exchanged my old life for my new life, I was surprised to feel how comfortable it was.  The commercials were right!  They look, fit, and feel just like real underwear!  Hahaha…Almost!  It actually wasn’t that bad.  No, they didn’t look, fit, or feel just like real underwear.  They looked like a diaper.  They fit like a diaper.  They felt like a diaper.  It really wasn’t that bad after a while, though, I told myself.  They were pretty comfortable, and I appreciated the extra junk in the trunk, since mine was quickly depleting from my drastic weight loss.  I could pull this off.  Besides, I didn’t buy them for their look, fit, or feel.  I bought them so I didn’t have to panic anymore.  I was covered.  Though wearing a diaper didn’t make me feel like the 21 year old I so desperately wanted to be, it did give me some of my life back.  They spared me from feeling warmth slither down my leg. I couldn’t help but depend on my depends.  I didn’t know it yet, but they were going to save me more than I expected.        

 

 

 

This video is hilarious! Pretty much sums it up.  :D

       https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=20l6hujKvV0

 

 

Chapter 2: What are you wearing? Oh, Depends.

It was my last class for the day, and I was headed back from Ecsch Hall to my dorm on the other side of campus.  I was about halfway there, when I start feeling panic.  My pace quickened.  I started looking around me for escape options, but I knew the quickest way to a destination was a straight line.  My dorm was now in site, and I decided to push forward knowing there was no way I could make it inside the building next to me in time.  As I approached the road that stood between me and my destination, it happened.  I lost control. 

I felt its warmth as it slithered down my leg.  Quickly, I pulled my jacket off and tied it around my waste.  Finally, making it to the entrance of my dorm, I was greeted by a resident.  “Hi Brandie!  How are you doing?” “I’m just great.  Gotta go.  Talk to you later,” I replied.  Never being more thankful that my dorm room was just a few steps away from the front door, I entered my room with relief.  By the time I reached my bathroom, the damage was done.  Another pair of underwear…destroyed by the brown bomber.  I cleaned up the mess, once again, and got dressed. 

With the situation under control, I let myself lose control.  I cried.  I cried for all the times this had happened before.  I cried over the loss of my favorite pair of underwear.  I cried because I was a twenty year old who couldn’t keep her shit together…literally. 

I had lost everything.  My pride had been flushed down the toilet with what was left of my latest bowel movement.  My hope was draining, as well as my strength.  Control had left me months ago.  I was losing the battle.       

A knock on the door forced me to choke down my emotions and wipe away my tears.  When I opened the door, what I found on the other side was a blessing.  “Molly,” I sighed.  It was my best friend.  The tears started rolling down my face again as she walked in to console me.  Somehow she knew I needed her.  I wasn’t alone.  I didn’t have to face this alone anymore.  By the time I was done with her shoulder, it was drenched with my salty tears.
...To be continued.

Never Trust a Fart - The full chapter.

Chapter 1:  Never Trust a Fart

Never trust a fart.  I first heard those words in the movie “The Bucket List.”  As the quote goes, “Never pass up a bathroom, never waste a hard-on, and never trust a fart.”  If I was a man, I would totally agree with all three statements.  However, being a woman with Crohn’s disease, the first and the third statement hold as sound advice for me. 

After my first sharting experience, I started taking this advice more seriously.  If you have ever shit your pants, you understand why.  It is not a pleasant experience…no matter how much or little fecal comes out with your fart.  Just to be clear though, shitting your pants and sharting are two completely different experiences.  Sharting leaves room for prevention, whereas shitting your pants usually means you had no other option.  So seeing that I was having enough issues with making it to the bathroom on time, without having to fart, I took no chances.  When that familiar pressure started pushing its way through my intestine, you better believe I was headed for a toilet.  Prevention was key!

Now that I have an ostomy, I no longer have to worry about such things as running to the bathroom.  However, the advice of ‘never trust a fart’ still holds true.   Farting is probably more of an issue now.  The once familiar pressure no longer accompanies the gas and the next thing you know you are talking to a coworker and you let one rip….awkward!  At least the first time.  After that first ‘cut’ one of two reactions   occur.  One, you just keep on talking and act like nothing happen. “Did you hear anything?”  “No I didn’t hear anything?”  Or two, you both just start laughing because the sound it makes is hilarious and you both still are immature in the gas department.

I can’t help it, when someone releases a fine fart that sounds like a trumpet has been shoved up someone’s butt, I have to laugh.  Sometimes, I am a little jealous that my fart sounds are not as controllable as someone who has a rectum connected to their intestine.  I feel like they can get more depth and have a little bit more control.  Mine pretty much sound like someone puffing against skin.  You know what I mean?  When you put your mouth on a kids belly and make that funny sound to get them to laugh.  That’s kind of what mine sounds like.  Sorry if that moment is now ruined for you!  Anyway, my friends and I still share some good laughs when gas randomly passes through my stoma at usually the improper moment.

Not only do I miss the sounds that a normal butthole can make, but I also miss that feeling of release one gets with the passing of gas.   Sometimes, I just miss letting a big one rip! Not your crop duster, but the loud and proud release of pressure that leaves your feeling relieved. If you are not affected by IBD, enjoy that feeling. If you have IBD, NEVER trust a fart!

Never Trust a Fart

Never trust a fart. I first heard those words in the movie "The Bucket List." As the quote goes, "Never pass up a bathroom, never waste a hard-on, and never trust a fart." If I was a man, I would totally agree with all three statements. However, being a woman with Crohn’s disease, the first and the third statement hold as sound advice for me.

After my first sharting experience, I started taking this advice more seriously. If you have ever shit your pants, you understand why. It is not a pleasant experience…no matter how much or little fecal comes out with your fart. Just to be clear though, shitting your pants and sharting are two completely different experiences. Sharting leaves room for prevention, where as shitting your pants usually means you had no other option. So seeing that I was having enough issues with making it to the bathroom on time, without having to fart, I took no chances. When that familiar pressure started pushing its way through my intestine, you better believe I was headed for a toilet. Prevention was key!

Writing a Book

I have accepted the challenge to write a book.  My challenge is to write every day this year.  Of course, my book will be about Crohn's and my experience with this disease.  I need your help though.  I can't decided if I want to write a fiction story or a true, in your face story...think Tina Fey's Bossy Pants.

Today, I will submit a paragraph from my fictional book.  Tomorrow, I will submit a paragraph from my 'in your face' book.  I would appreciate your honest opinion, as the audience, on which direction I should go with my writing.  I'm not saying anything will ever come of my writing or that I will get published.  This is mainly a goal I have been wanting to achieve, but I think I write better when I have a solid direction.  Thank you in advance. 

PS Please be kind.

Disclaimer:  I have the write to do what I want!

Chapter 1

The sounds of laughter filled my ears as I came to from the five hour long surgery.  In between reality and dreamland, I tried to make sense of the faces, sights, and sounds.  Finally, the touch of his hand brought all my senses to attention.  I watched the fear on his face release down his cheek as he saw for himself, that I was going to survive.   He bent over and gently caressed my lips with a kiss and whispered “I love you.”  It was then that I knew my life would never be the same.  Finally, I would have the life that I had been praying for so long.