The elusive poo

If you're reading this, you know I'm one who will talk about anything - at great lengths, usually - and I know you are prepared for a post such as this.

I have never wanted to poo so much in my life.

Now really, I alluded to the need for poo in my last post, but I'm talking 72 hours post-op and nothing but wind. Don't want to take anything for pain (which is really nothing more than discomfort at this point) because I don't want to plug up the pipes any more than they already are. Don't want to overdo it on the stool softeners because, well, I don't want to "over-doo." I am obsessing about this, because I happen to know that the old-school way for docs to know it was time to release a patient was when their bowels moved. If this had been even a decade ago, I'd still be in the hospital, spry as anything but awaiting a good poo. Granted, they would likely have given me a more powerful lube than the OTC colace I've been taking the minimum dose of...

And isn't it just weird how the state of our bowels so often reflects the state of our lives? Right now I am in a holding pattern - can't really put forth a lot of effort to do the things I want and need to get done because I am "resting" - but can't really rest because there is so much I need to get done. Then again, there are times that I am busy busy busy and my bowels are, too. Coincidence? I think not.

How I have three days of real food in me with no flushable evidence is beyond me - I do not get how those of you who are perpetually constipated do it. And you know what else strikes me as odd? You, my nearest and dearest friends and you, the acquaintances I've kept along the way, are still reading about my dookie. Or lack thereof. What has your life come to?

Poo and sex are the things proper Southern ladies would never consider talking about. Guess I'm not a proper Southern lady. I figure they are two of the things most often on our minds, so why not make them fair game for discussion? I know each of you will be checking back here periodically KNOWING that I will have a celebratory post when the elusive poo arrives, and you'll secretly be hoping I'll go into great detail in my description of it.

But I won't. I promise. Or will I?

Hey, at least I'm not talking about my grief and woes. Or am I?

Lamentation for a missing poo:
Oh, gently moving bowel, how I miss thee.
Your plops, your surprisingly pleasant dumping sensations...
I long for the time when I could take you for granted.
Return to me, great links of waste,
So that I may once again know the pleasure of your passing,
Knowing that you will return to me with occasional rankness and shocking swiftness,
But always with the satisfaction of having spent time with you.
Oh, poo.

Okay, that was too random. Maybe the meds haven't quite worn off. Maybe I am just a freak. Maybe both.

I'll keep you posted. :)