Shameful Until The Morphine
Recently, over the holidays, I traveled out of state to Vermont for a one-week ski trip with my family. Like most women, my wife packed as if we were going away forever and never returning home. This included anything and everything from tampons to diapers to full artic dress. As a result, we had a fully packed SUV, front to back, top to bottom, including the roof rack. In order to make more room for the kids, I decided to move all five suitcases to the roof rack, in a case strapped down and secured.
After doing so, I began to notice some discomfort in my lower back. After driving eight hours in the car to arrive at our destination, this discomfort turned into a knot that just didn't seem to go away. The bed in our hotel room destroyed my back even further, and the pain started to become unbearable.
At around 2:00 AM, I got up to go to the bathroom and collapsed on the floor in sheer pain and agony. Not wanting to wake my family, I decided to remain on the floor until the early morning hours, when I knew the others would be getting up. Besides, here on the floor, I seemed to have found a position in which the pain no longer seemed as bad.
Aside from the constant ache in my back, my main concern was still going to the bathroom -- my urge had now evolved into a strong need and desire to take my early morning dump. By this time, I had to shit so bad that I began to taste it.
My wife feared the worst for my back, and encouraged me to let her call the ski patrol for assessment. The ski patrol arrived on scene and told me that I need to be transported to the hospital. I was absolutely against this -- I still had not taken my early morning crap, and I was in dire need to utilize the toilet before going anywhere. Since I didn't know how far away the nearest hospital was, my biggest fear was not being able to hold it in for the duration of the trip.
The fact that I had no clear solution for relieving myself weighed heavily in my mind as I considered resolving the issues related to my back. I figured that if I just kept farting, the urge to crap might go away. I was having a nightmare of needing some stranger to help me get out of bed and sit on a bedpan and dump in the hospital behind some thin little curtain. I could just imagine someone hearing me moan, grunt, and curse, or someone mistakenly swinging open the curtain before I had finished my business.
As it turned out, the pain to my lower back was severe enough that, after trying some less-potent medications, real relief came only from morphine. And once the morphine kicked in, I need no approval, help, or encouragement -- I headed straight for the nearest bathroom to sit is sheer delight and take my long overdue early-morning crap. What pleasure! What relief!
As for the skiing, they can have it. Just keep those bedpans far away and get my wife to leave the tampons at home.
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Morphine Poop Story
