You don't know the pains that I'm suffering through!!!
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
This is my first, last, and only entry. Hopefully, this will please the many people who have been requesting my presence amongst the blog and friendster rings. I have decided to create this blog to share with everyone the memorable last 5 days of my life. Caution, this story is not for the weak of heart!
Day 1
This grand adventure all began Friday morning at work. I came into work like any other Friday and began the grievous chores of the day. My co-workers and I were starving and decided to order breakfast from Coco's down the street, just as we had numerous other Friday mornings. After finishing my meal, I was enjoying my state of food coma, when suddenly I became crippled with pain. I leaned over, clutched my stomach, and prayed to the porcelain gods that they would not demand my presence. However, at last, I succumbed to the terrible pains from within and made a mad dash for the nearest restroom. During my "movement", I soon came to realize that my stomach was not upset at me, it was downright pissed off. While clutching the sides of the wall to brace myself for full impact, I discovered that this was not your normal "#2", in fact, it was the hated and debilitating "#3". In the midst of my grunting and groaning, I cursed the Coco's workers and their sunny-side up eggs. Did they give me uncooked eggs? Did they contaminate my food with the SARS virus? I furiously searched for an answer while finishing up my deed. After everything but my intestines were emptied from my body, I walked bowleggedly (that may not be a word, but it's the only way to describe how i was walking) back to my desk. As I lowered myself onto my seat, I felt a familiar urge within my stomach. "No... it couldn't be...not again." Oh yes, it was! Round two! I quickly rushed to what had become MY throne, astonished at the fact that I still had more left in me. After finishing round two, I returned to my desk, only to prepare for round 3. Round after round I went at it, fighting a never ending battle. Finally, I gave in and asked to go home, so that I could suffer in the peace and quiet of my own bathroom. You are probably wondering how I made it home safely. Well, of course, as an insurance policy, I had to go one more time before I walked out the doors. As for the drive, it was nothing that the pinching effect, a little meditation, and a rice rocket for a car couldn't handle.
Stats:
Time: 2 hrs 15 minutes
Frequency: 8 times
Average: approx. once per 16 minutes
So, by the time I reached my sanctuary I had developed a nice little rash on the backside to accompany my ring-around the bum. For the rest of the night, I spent time alternating between my throne and laying in a fetal position holding my stomach.
Day 2
This day was great! There were marked signs of improvement!
Encouraging stat of the day:
Average frequency: once per hour
I felt so encouraged that I even attempted to go to a friend's birthday party at night. Though I did stand around looking like an ornament and trying not to make any funny faces from "holding it in", the point is, I made it out of the house. I went home with a mean stomach ache from "holding it in" for too long, but more importantly, a sense of pride that I was brave enough to stray further than 10 feet from the bathroom.
Day 3
More progress. I even ate solid food for the first time, but had a movement directly afterwards.
Day 4
Back to work. I felt good, very strong. I decided to pronounce my full recovery by eating pizza.
Day 5 (Today)
I had spoken and acted too quickly. My arrogance and conceit had led me to my downfall. The pizza had royally screwed my stomach up again. My stomach came back with a vengeance. This time, not only was I the most frequent visitor of the throne, but I walked around in a bout of nausea the entire day. The porcelain gods once again summoned me all day long and I was trapped as their servant... their slave.
Day 1
This grand adventure all began Friday morning at work. I came into work like any other Friday and began the grievous chores of the day. My co-workers and I were starving and decided to order breakfast from Coco's down the street, just as we had numerous other Friday mornings. After finishing my meal, I was enjoying my state of food coma, when suddenly I became crippled with pain. I leaned over, clutched my stomach, and prayed to the porcelain gods that they would not demand my presence. However, at last, I succumbed to the terrible pains from within and made a mad dash for the nearest restroom. During my "movement", I soon came to realize that my stomach was not upset at me, it was downright pissed off. While clutching the sides of the wall to brace myself for full impact, I discovered that this was not your normal "#2", in fact, it was the hated and debilitating "#3". In the midst of my grunting and groaning, I cursed the Coco's workers and their sunny-side up eggs. Did they give me uncooked eggs? Did they contaminate my food with the SARS virus? I furiously searched for an answer while finishing up my deed. After everything but my intestines were emptied from my body, I walked bowleggedly (that may not be a word, but it's the only way to describe how i was walking) back to my desk. As I lowered myself onto my seat, I felt a familiar urge within my stomach. "No... it couldn't be...not again." Oh yes, it was! Round two! I quickly rushed to what had become MY throne, astonished at the fact that I still had more left in me. After finishing round two, I returned to my desk, only to prepare for round 3. Round after round I went at it, fighting a never ending battle. Finally, I gave in and asked to go home, so that I could suffer in the peace and quiet of my own bathroom. You are probably wondering how I made it home safely. Well, of course, as an insurance policy, I had to go one more time before I walked out the doors. As for the drive, it was nothing that the pinching effect, a little meditation, and a rice rocket for a car couldn't handle.
Stats:
Time: 2 hrs 15 minutes
Frequency: 8 times
Average: approx. once per 16 minutes
So, by the time I reached my sanctuary I had developed a nice little rash on the backside to accompany my ring-around the bum. For the rest of the night, I spent time alternating between my throne and laying in a fetal position holding my stomach.
Day 2
This day was great! There were marked signs of improvement!
Encouraging stat of the day:
Average frequency: once per hour
I felt so encouraged that I even attempted to go to a friend's birthday party at night. Though I did stand around looking like an ornament and trying not to make any funny faces from "holding it in", the point is, I made it out of the house. I went home with a mean stomach ache from "holding it in" for too long, but more importantly, a sense of pride that I was brave enough to stray further than 10 feet from the bathroom.
Day 3
More progress. I even ate solid food for the first time, but had a movement directly afterwards.
Day 4
Back to work. I felt good, very strong. I decided to pronounce my full recovery by eating pizza.
Day 5 (Today)
I had spoken and acted too quickly. My arrogance and conceit had led me to my downfall. The pizza had royally screwed my stomach up again. My stomach came back with a vengeance. This time, not only was I the most frequent visitor of the throne, but I walked around in a bout of nausea the entire day. The porcelain gods once again summoned me all day long and I was trapped as their servant... their slave.
