Tuesday, April 10, 2012

I Almost Went Potty in My Pants.

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So, I said I would elaborate on the whole almost going potty in my pants during our vaca incident. So here goes.

(My children hate that I speak so self-deprecatingly about myself in a public forum. They're about to become a lot more disturbed about this particular share session.)

I don't think a more serious situation has ever developed in our vehicle. The grave atmosphere in our mini-van would've suggested that we were traveling to a funeral. (And so would the speed in which my husband was driving.)

Let me first say that I know, to some degree, that you know how I felt. Everyone has needed a restroom like RIGHT NOW at some point in their life. My situation may be a little more serious with the whole IBS and what-not. (Irritable Bowel Syndrome which I have never been medically diagnosed with except I know I have it and I am my own best doctor.) This is like the twelfth time we've experienced a near miss of this nature. But never have I been as white-knuckled as I was during this narrow escape. I mean I was squeezing so hard my ass was having spasms. (And that is NOT an exaggeration.)

When my husband refused to pass the red car creeping along at a slow crawl in front of us, I was pelvic thrusting in the air, arm braced to the ceiling and beginning my apology speech to my children. "I CANNOT. I am so sorry! I'm not going to be able to hold it. I mean I am so embarrassed. Please don't be mad at me." This is where my husband began to get fidgety. And sweaty. 

Bless his heart. He was very nervous. When I asked him about it later, he was like, "I mean there was just no where to go. I kept thinking, no no no...the smell." His finger braced on the window button.

Then I saw the condo complex. But I was confused. Was I happy or scared? I didn't know if I could stand or walk at all without a catastrophe. Could I? So I started prepping my daughter. "Give her the key! Give her the keys!" I have never felt a greater urgency in my entire life. As the car came to a stop I was cheering her on as if she was running the last leg of a marathon. "Go! Go! Go!!!! Ruuuuuuun! Holy Mother of Mary!" And she sprinted like a champ. I've never seen those legs move faster. And then she yelled. "I'm in, Mom!" Ahh, music to my ears as I scooted along behind her.

That night was bad. And I was miserable.

I felt that sharing my story may help someone, somewhere. And yes, I do understand that I am not the ambassador for IBS, FAMILY! Maybe I should be. We sufferers need to stand together. (though maybe not too closely and maybe there should be like a million port-a-potties.)

IBS Sufferers Unite!!

I've lost my mind. And like 3 pounds.

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