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DAY FOUR

DAY FOUR

Success! I am back to backing ( no pun intended) DAY THREE AND DAY FOUR because they are starting to blend together and I need to get caught up. Besides my bowel movements which likely no one wants to hear any more about after this last entry, I am starting to forget about the funny things I wanted to write about.

So without more detail, the success I speak about is alas after a good old cup of Joe and some writing, I finally had success in the bathroom. The only reason I continue writing about it is in the hopes that some woman may be reading this and it will actually be helpful because I am fully aware that this is disgusting writing. But like so much shit in our female lives we don’t talk about it. Maybe this is exactly why women have so much irritable bowel syndrome (I refuse to pharmacize this problem with initials instead of calling it what it is) Women are not pooping. We are holding on to literal old shit because our figurative old shit we do not want to let out of Pandora’s box for fear that the world will find out our big secret, “We actually don’t have it all together!” In fact, we are not even supposed to.

Who told us we were anyway? Media giants, corporate conglomerates, I mean for Christ’s sake, why would I even want to try to look pretty after only a week of recuperation from a double mastectomy? (You don’t know this part of my story yet, because that part is in DAY SIX which hasn’t been released yet because I am a nut and can’t release it until I’m caught up with DAY THREE –DAY FIVE.) OMG am I really this crazy.. oh yeah I have been taking OXY. I can blame everything on this and the full moon and mercury in retrograde and my free pass on sugar and white bread grilled cheese sandwiches.

I love being a woman recovering because it has been a great excuse to let my cat out of the bag. I feel like the more this cancer gives me an opportunity to voice my vulnerabilities and my weak spots right along side of my strengths and my powers, it is actually a reminder that these are all normal feelings and it is what makes the power so much stronger. It took sweat and work to get here. Hard work and grit and pain and darkness so the light is so much brighter. All this from constipation. Ain’t life grand?

So here’s the twist of the final relief in the bathroom, and then I’ll stop talking about this, pinky promise. After fours days of worrying and struggling and obsessing when it finally happens, I should feel like WONDER WOMAN, right? Yes indeed, but the feeling was short lived because what I forgot about was my new range, or lack, of motion. Yep. I could not reach my ass to wipe it. Talk about a fucking bummer. Hahahaha.

No photos for this one.

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