Today's bLOG

aka THE POO PAPERS
11.6.12

Bowel Movement 
Defacate
Poop
DooDoo
#2
Dookie
Take a dump
Drop the kids off at the pool
Saw a log
Lay pipe
Drop a deuce
Taking _____ to Brown Town
Prairie Doggin' (precursor)

Besides satisfying my life-long desire to publicly list all the different ways to say it, I have to dedicate this post to the above-mentioned function, which has everything to do with this blog.  "How?" you ask?  (Maybe you're more like, "WHY?")

In addition to the daily injections, vitals taken, meds given, one of the main discussions at a hospital is whether it has taken place (yet.)  Rumor has it (I discovered it was the truth) that anesthesia, pain killers and being pumped full of gas for surgery makes the bowels a little slow on the make.  A few days in, my nurse, Sarah, was stethescoping my breathing and took a trip farther south to listen to my belly to which she stated, "hmmm...sluggish bowels."  (on a side note, you should have seen my belly for about 3-4 days after....I could have passed for 5 months pregnant.  Cute.)  Yes.  The dreaded C-word landed on even ME!  Doses of Miralax started on Thursday accompanied by nurse heads popping into the hospital room regularly with a look of anticipation like a 5-year old on Christmas Eve..."did Santa Claus come yet?"  No Virginia, he's still stuck in the chimney.

I was bound and determined not to have the same fate as most and leave the hospital without performing my civic duty.  More so, I just wanted to feel less bloated and uncomfortable.  This also led me to stop the pain killing narcotics 2 days in.  Tylenol, which has never abated a menstrual cramp in its life, was now in charge of my collective pain fate.  When I couldn't get comfortable at night, I paced the halls at 2am like an expectant mother trying to get her little one out.  My tummy was gurgling so I know it wanted out as much as I wanted it out.   And nada.

**LIGHT BULB OVER HEAD** What was I thinking?  The one thing I rely on for the relief of my different body aches and pains could help me out here.  YOGA!  I remembered one of the digestion-aiding poses that I could do in my pathetic state and promptly threw my pillow on the floor next to the constantly moving, plastic, uncozy hospital bed and got on my knees.  I'm not going to say that Santa showed up immediately but within the hour he had bestowed his presents under my tree.  AHHHHH.

The next day as we were leaving Stanford Hospital, we passed by a sign on one of the exit doors that shared the secret to a happy life - like it was scribed by one of heaven's angels just for me.

LOSE the DOO!

And here you were wondering how I was going to make this into an entire blog post.  You're welcome / I'm sorry.  Take whichever one you need.