TheIronSheik
SUPER ELITE UPPER TIER
After many years of back pain and minor procedures to try and fix the problems, I finally signed up for physical therapy. I had no real reason to not want to go to it, other than I didn't want to miss work, it wasn't covered by my insurance and my irrational fear of going new places for fear that I'll embarrass myself by doing something stupid. Well, two of those reasons were removed and I really couldn't rationalize living in pain all because I might embarrass myself.
The appointment was after work yesterday and I was going to leave a little early to try and beat traffic. Around lunchtime, I realized my stomach was not having a very good day. I'm sure the worrying about my appointment wasn't helping, but regardless, I made the first of about ten trips to the crapper. Each time, about 80% air and 20% lava came erupting out. The kind of poo that actually burns your rectum, damn near killed 'em, so bad that not only does it hurt to wipe, but it hurts to walk back to your desk. Luckily, after each painful walk, it was only about 10 more minutes until I had to go back and blow out my O-Ring once again.
As the end of the day approached, I was praying to any God who would listen to make the poop attacks stop before I got to the doctor. Between that and working (aka screwing around on the Internet), I must have lost track of time. It was 10 minutes later than when I had hoped to leave. I quickly gathered my things and headed out to my car. My poop attacks had subsided. But my attention should have been on something else. Because when I finally got in the car and started out on my 30 minute drive, I realized that I had to pee a little bit. "No worries", I thought. And sped away.
Sped away, that is, into dead stopped traffic. My 30 minute trip turned into an hour. And with each passing minute, my bladder expanded more so than ever in my life. As I trekked along at 2 mph, I started to realize there was a chance I wasn't going to make it. That's a fear I've only had a couple times in my adult life. I thought about pulling onto the shoulder and pissing, but luckily I had a cop directly behind me. As I looked for an empty bottle or a shirt, the pain grew more and more intense. I began to start telling myself that it wouldn't be that big of deal if I just pissed myself. And my car. But I resisted. And struggled until I finally pulled into the parking lot.
I gathered my things and began moving toward the office. It wasn't quite a run or a walk. My ###### still sore from the fire that a crapped out and the fear that moving too quick would release my bladder. I waddled in as joy flowed through me knowing I had made it. So much so, that I had to double check to make sure it was joy I felt flowing and not piss. I asked the receptionist if I could use the bathroom because "I feel like I'm about to explode." She smiled and pointed me to the bathroom next to the gym area that had two doctors and two patients doing their thing. I went in and closed the door. My body ached so much from the pain and I felt like I could pass out that I decided I would just sit down on the toilet and piss.
As the liquid began to flow out of me, the pain began to subside. But there was so much piss inside of me that my body couldn't get it out quick enough. It felt like I was draining a swimming pool through a straw. Then, without any help from me pushing, my butt released a fart that lasted as long as a 1970's drum solo on a live album. I couldn't stop it. It all felt too good. But the acoustics in that bathroom and the fart echoing throughout the toilet sounded like a train roaring through a tunnel.
When I was done, I got up and opened the door only to see everyone laughing and looking at me. I guess me saying I felt like I was going to explode added to the humor of all involved.
I go back Friday morning. I think I'll pee before I go.
The appointment was after work yesterday and I was going to leave a little early to try and beat traffic. Around lunchtime, I realized my stomach was not having a very good day. I'm sure the worrying about my appointment wasn't helping, but regardless, I made the first of about ten trips to the crapper. Each time, about 80% air and 20% lava came erupting out. The kind of poo that actually burns your rectum, damn near killed 'em, so bad that not only does it hurt to wipe, but it hurts to walk back to your desk. Luckily, after each painful walk, it was only about 10 more minutes until I had to go back and blow out my O-Ring once again.
As the end of the day approached, I was praying to any God who would listen to make the poop attacks stop before I got to the doctor. Between that and working (aka screwing around on the Internet), I must have lost track of time. It was 10 minutes later than when I had hoped to leave. I quickly gathered my things and headed out to my car. My poop attacks had subsided. But my attention should have been on something else. Because when I finally got in the car and started out on my 30 minute drive, I realized that I had to pee a little bit. "No worries", I thought. And sped away.
Sped away, that is, into dead stopped traffic. My 30 minute trip turned into an hour. And with each passing minute, my bladder expanded more so than ever in my life. As I trekked along at 2 mph, I started to realize there was a chance I wasn't going to make it. That's a fear I've only had a couple times in my adult life. I thought about pulling onto the shoulder and pissing, but luckily I had a cop directly behind me. As I looked for an empty bottle or a shirt, the pain grew more and more intense. I began to start telling myself that it wouldn't be that big of deal if I just pissed myself. And my car. But I resisted. And struggled until I finally pulled into the parking lot.
I gathered my things and began moving toward the office. It wasn't quite a run or a walk. My ###### still sore from the fire that a crapped out and the fear that moving too quick would release my bladder. I waddled in as joy flowed through me knowing I had made it. So much so, that I had to double check to make sure it was joy I felt flowing and not piss. I asked the receptionist if I could use the bathroom because "I feel like I'm about to explode." She smiled and pointed me to the bathroom next to the gym area that had two doctors and two patients doing their thing. I went in and closed the door. My body ached so much from the pain and I felt like I could pass out that I decided I would just sit down on the toilet and piss.
As the liquid began to flow out of me, the pain began to subside. But there was so much piss inside of me that my body couldn't get it out quick enough. It felt like I was draining a swimming pool through a straw. Then, without any help from me pushing, my butt released a fart that lasted as long as a 1970's drum solo on a live album. I couldn't stop it. It all felt too good. But the acoustics in that bathroom and the fart echoing throughout the toilet sounded like a train roaring through a tunnel.
When I was done, I got up and opened the door only to see everyone laughing and looking at me. I guess me saying I felt like I was going to explode added to the humor of all involved.
I go back Friday morning. I think I'll pee before I go.
can you unpack this?
