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| The only thing worse than constipation is "blast burst" diarrhea by Tansin A. Darcos (TDARCOS) 09/28/2011, 8:56am PDT | ||||
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| Somedays I get constipated so bad, taking a shit is a major effort probably equivalent to birthing a baby. (Being a man, I have no idea.) But it's not fun, and in some cases it gets so painful I have to stick a finger up my ass in order to breakup the shit, which is basically the consistency of very dry clay, in order to allow it to escape and stop hurting from the press of very hard shit on my asshole, or whatever the inside at the end of the large intestine is called.
That's bad but what's worse is pressurized liquified diarrhea, what I call "blast burst" diarrhea. In that case, the problem isn't trying to go to the bathroom, the problem is trying to keep from going to the bathroom long enough to get to the fucking toilet! It can be agony trying to hold it in, plus, since I'm in a wheelchair I have to try to get my pants and underpants off before i shit all over them, then, slide onto a toilet and do all this before the diarrhea wins and blasts a burst out my ass. If I can make it to the toilet it's just a load deposited in the commode; wipe my ass and flush and I'm done. Sometimes I can't make it. One thing I note is I have to remove my shirt before shitting. It doesn't matter how careful I am, if I leave my shirt on it will brush pass something that's contaminated and get shit on it, guaranteed. Then there's the cleanup once a blast burst incident has, well, blasted a burst all over the chair. I have wet wipes, essentially the same things they sell for parents to clean up after their babies. I specifically buy ones marked as "flushable", the Up And Up brand from Target specifically says they are. (The last thing I need as a handicapped man is a stopped-up toilet!) In some cases the need to shit is so bad I can't even get off the wheelchair in time and all I can do is shit in the chair, or in this case, cream all over the chair. If I have enough time I'll try to "cofferdam the blast" by using wet wipes all over the area where I'm going to end up shitting, behind my ass, in front of my ass, to the side, and underneath. Putting extra ones somewhat folded so they act like a berm behind and in front of my ass, so hopefully it will pool where it bursts instead of drooling off the chair and staining either the base of the chair or the floor. Wheelchair seats are vinyl for this very reason; if they were cloth and you have an accident, it would wick the moisture of either urine or of diarrhea incidents, causing it to absorb the liquid and stink; vinyl is like your skin, it doesn't absorb liquid so if you clean it off there's nothing there. Sometimes mere shit soup is not enough for your ass to deliver, you sometimes get a load of really liquified diarrhea with wierd strings which essentially look like mucus. Picking this up with another wet wipe in order to try to reduce the amount that drools out of your hands onto the floor or elsewhere sometimes isn't enough, you still lose drips or blobs. Looking at black coated mucosal discharge from your ass allows you to learn a whole new aspect of your existence, one that, if you lived a hundred years, you'd happily be willing to never know about. Sometimes you get mixed liquids and solids, where you've got a lump of regular stool mixed in with the liquid. The practice of having to view and handle this material is "shit archaeology," the examination of the results of what you ate two days has turned into: a large quantity of stinking black liquid and occasional solids, usually the stuff that is so strong it cannot dissolve in the hydrochloric acid bath that is the contents of your stomach. For example, if you eat corn - corn on the cob or canned corn - and looked at your stools, you'd find, surprisingly, the kernels are basically intact despite going through a bath of the most powerful acid in the world. So sometimes you get a creamy mess consisting of a liquified shit sauce, often black as the soul of a unforgivable reprobate who's done things so horrible that they can't even be mentioned in an article describing liquified diarrhea in graphic detail, possibly combined with regular lumps of shit, strings of mucus, along with chunky pieces of whatever didn't dissolve in the chemical soup of one's stomach and the absorptive powers of the small and large intestine. This yummy mix has to be cleaned up carefully, in small loads, for the same reason as with the other ones, to keep from depositing this stinking load of pure filth on the base of the wheelchair or on the floor, requiring yet more cleanup. I had a blast burst accident the other day, and ran out of wet wipes. What a mess! Plus, the wet wipes didn't cofferdam the blast adequately, a lot rolled off the seat and down onto the base of the chair, creating a stinking mess that because I ran out of wipes I can't clean up. (I was also out of toilet paper; I never use it for anything but this exact purpose: to clean up after bad diarrhea spills.) So the only option I have - stinking like an unlimed outhouse - is to go to the store in my filthy chair in order to buy wet wipes and some foaming cleaner. It's kind of embarrassing to be riding a wheelchair with shit stains running down the front, so I cover it up by bringing my shopping basket: a plastic carrier which would have been a kitchen trash can (it's the same size and shape as the receptacle I do use as a trash can) except I dedicated it specifically as a carrier (my wheelchair has about the carrying capacity of a postage stamp) and have never used it for trash. In fact, the only difference between my trash can and this carrier is the carrier has written on it "Not a trash can" and it's tan; the actual trash can is white. So, anyway, I wait for the bus, me and my "not a trash can" and when it shows up and extends the ramp, I roll on and move to the wheelchair area. And despite the fact the stains on the front of the chair are hidden by the can, I can still smell the filth. Nothing I can do about it, but it is embarrassing to travel out in public and smell, as I said, like an unlimed outhouse. Eventually I get to the stop across the street from the store and get off. I'm in the store only a few seconds before one of the clerks walks up to me and notes that I have waste all over the back of the chair. Now that's new; usually the shit drools down the front only. (The store and its personnel are probably more sensitive to things being clean; the District of Columbia Department of Health red tagged the store earlier this month, which means I'm sure they've had to clean out some really bad infestation of vermin in order to get the closure order lifted.) So I tell him the truth, I had a diarrhea accident that day, I ran out of wet wipes and have nothing else to clean the chair, and as soon as I get the cleaning supplies I'll pay for the things I'm buying and leave. I also remember that I need some foaming cleaner, I'm figuring this shit might be difficult so I want heavy artillery for the war on filth, so I ask him where I can find some. I pay for my stuff - including some groceries, I needed food anyway - and went home. Again, riding a bus and stinking horribly, but once I get home I can clean the chair. With lots of wet wipes, strong foamy cleaner and elbow grease I made the base of the chair - front and back - spotless. In one part where there is a steel support bar at the back of the chair that the seat rests against but is not a flush connection, I run a wet wipe through the crack and pull out serious filth. I keep doing this over and over, and I keep getting filth out of this area, you'd think the chair was manufacturing it. Eventually I defeat the shit monster and clean every drop and crust of shit from the chair, making it probably cleaner than it has ever been. So I go out again and this time, no smell. It is so nice to be both clean and empty (in my bowels) of shit, and ride around on a clean wheelchair that doesn't have any shit on it. ---- "I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too; God keep lead out of me. I need no more weight than my own bowels." - Wm. Shakespeare, Henry the Fourth Oh, here's my old sign off from about ten years ago. Paul W Robinson, is "TDarcos ... The Standard of Immorality" or Tansin Arogan Darcos of the District of Columbia Territory of the USA "Grind our enemies into the dust, and drown them in their own gore." "Exploiting humanity since 1986." "Above all else...We shall go on..." _"...And continue!"_ - Servicemark Registered Commonwealth of Virginia (USA), May 25, 1990; State of Maryland (USA), August 16, 1991 ---- "The lessons of history teach us, if they teach us anything, that no one learns the lessons that history teaches us." |
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The only thing worse than constipation is "blast burst" diarrhea by 09/28/2011, 8:56am PDT  :| NT by 09/28/2011, 12:39pm PDT Frontpage NT by 09/28/2011, 2:22pm PDT only if we put yakkety sax up to go with it by 09/28/2011, 2:30pm PDT Shower and change before leaving house plz. NT by 09/28/2011, 3:55pm PDT You got it wrong; I *do* shower. It was the chair that stank. NT by 09/30/2011, 5:41pm PDT You are the winner, sir by 09/30/2011, 10:04pm PDT Re: You are the winner, sir by 10/01/2011, 2:30pm PDT Caltrops Comics hmm by 10/03/2011, 2:38am PDT If we pretend a girl is writing it, people will pay attention no matter how awfu NT by 10/03/2011, 1:24pm PDT |
