So. How was your weekend?

FAIR WARNING!!!! Today's blog post contains material of a frank and graphic nature that you in no way want to know about. Like, in a Boss #1 kind of way. Trust me, you just really don't want to know. Which sucks for you, because I'm about to tell you. Because Saturday was one of the more painful and mortifying experiences of my life and if I don't talk about it here and exorcise those demons...well, I'm going to have to go back to therapy. And that shit's expensive. So here we go.

(You've been warned.)

As I've been talking about more and more on the old blog, I haven't been feeling well recently. I've been having "tummy problems," shall we say. At first I thought I had food poisoning, then I thought I had an ulcer and Saturday morning I thought I had the devil in me. I woke up at 9am, saw what time it was, laughed out loud, and immediately went back to bed. A few hours later, I woke up at 11 in the worst pain of my entire life. It felt like gas pains, plus period cramps, divided by a roundhouse kick to the womb by Chuck Norris and then just shoot yourself in the face because you're still nowhere close. I ran to the bathroom expecting to have an..."explosive bathroom situation"...but nothing happened. I just sat there doubled-over in pain wishing to god that something, anything would happen to make it go away. I had never felt pain like this in my entire life. It hurt so badly I felt like I was going to throw up. I was hot and cold and seeing stars and was scared I was going to pass out. Yet, nothing was happening. Where had I seen this before...? And then it struck me: Oh my fucking lorddid I not know I was pregnant?!
This situation could not have been more textbook IDKIWP if I was a 21-year-old TGI Friday's hostess slash psych major at the local JC. A surge of fear shot through me, the likes of which I can not describe. And it wasn't fear for the child's safety (although let's not lie, had I been pregnant, it would have come out wearing cowboy boots, a fringe dress and sitting on a crescent moon because that thing would have been pure Miller High Life) and it wasn't for my own safety; I was scared because when you get right down to it, I am far too lazy to deliver my own child. I had really been looking forward to lazing around my apartment that day and the thought of having to call 911 and go through labor and push the damn thing out and deal with it and the after birth and cutting the umbilical cord and going to the hospital and all of the emotional brouhaha all sounded really...well, time consuming to me. Luckily a few seconds later the...explosive bathroom situation...I was waiting for finally came.

I was relieved, to say the least, until I turned around and saw the aftermath. I looked in the bowl and saw (and I'm so sorry for this) a large a mount of blood. "Hm..." I thought to myself, "That's...not...right." But, frankly, not wanting to deal with it, I adopted a "go with god" attitude, flushed and crawled back into my bed to recover. Unfortunately, the pain didn't subside and neither did the...explosive bathroom situation. From the hours of 12-6, I alternated writhing around my bed in pain and running to the bathroom to take something that rhymes with "schmoody schmiaherra." Unfortunately during the sixth hour, it stopped being schmiaherra and was just schmood, so I finally gave in and recognized that perhaps something was wrong. Then I did the only thing I know how to do in moments like that; I called my mom.

My mom told me to go to the clinic and see if they could fit me in, to which I informed her that walking anywhere that wasn't to my bathroom or directly to the Pearly Gates was not an option. Canceling family dinner plans (sorry Bec!) they hopped in the car and took me to the clinic. (If I'm going to shit my pants in anybody's car, it's going to be my parent's and not a cabbie's. Don't judge me.) Unfortunately the clinic was closed for renovations and seeing how much pain I was in, they decided to take me to the ER. Now, being in Dupont, there was a cornucopia of ERs to choose from. We could have gone to Georgetown, GW, Sibley, Holy Cross...the world was our oyster. However my parents, bless their hearts, decided to drive me back to Olney and take me to Montgomery General, that way I could spend the night at home after I was released and be under their watchful eye. (Yes, I realize I will be 25-years-old in April. No, I am not ashamed of myself.)

I was admitted to the ER rather quickly, got hooked up to an IV of fluids and was treated by an extremely nice and soothing PA who introduced me to my new best friend: Mr. Intravenous Morphine. God I miss him. He made me feel like candy was flowing through my veins and after seven hours of poor man's labor pains, it was much appreciated. Mrs. Lovely PA then informed me that she was reeeeeeeally sorry, but she had to do a rectal exam. Honestly, she could have told me she had to do a nationally televised breast exam and I wouldn't have given two shits at that point. "Just roll me over," I told her. And she did. And pulled down my underoos. And went to town. When she was done she walked away to look at the results, came back in and with her back towards me said, "Well you don't have any hemorrhoids or fissures, but there is quite a bit of blood there and that's" she turned around and saw me laying on my side, bare ass still out to the world. "Oh. Ms. McBlogger, you...you can put your pants back on now." "CAN YOU DO IT FOR MEEEEE??" I slurred while pointing to my butt. She then proceeded to pull up my underwear and roll me back onto my back for me like I was a newborn and she was changing my diaper. "THANK YOUUUU!!!!!" I cooed with a big smile on my face.

After that she called my parents back in the room, told them we needed to wait for the blood results before taking any further steps and left. It was then that I noticed a male nurse staring at me from across the way. "Shit. He's hot," I thought to myself. Now let me tell you something about how I looked at that momentnot well. I hadn't showered since Friday morning, I didn't have AN stitch of makeup on, I was cracked out on morphine and I had a giant zit directly in the center of my forehead. But like, directly in the middle. It couldn't have been more perfect if you had a compass and a level. The male nurse and I locked eyes and it struck me, man he looks familiar. Where had I seenoh my god. I know him. I know him because I used to hook up with him. You know him because I wrote about him last New Year's Eve. And there he was. A nurse in the hospitalof allllll the hospitals we could have gone towhere we ended up. I couldn't tell you the last time I saw this kid but I did not want him to see me now. I closed my eyes and my face turned bright red. He saw me. There was no way of getting out of this.

"Oh my god," I muttered. "What's wrong?" my mom asked. "I'm...having a situation." I said through clenched teeth. "What kind of situation? Do you need the bathroom? Should I call the nurse?" "Nope...Just let it burn. Just let this moment continue to burn." My parents looked at each other in confusion. "What do you mean burn? What's burning?" "I need someone who will understand the weight of this moment. Give me my phone. I need to call Teresa." "You can't make a call! What's going on??" I then (loosely) told my parents what was going on and they, rightfully, got quite a kick out of it. "Oh who cares Meghan, it was a million years ago." Which is true. And I really shouldn't have cared. I think he's still dating that chick but I have zero interest in him and I'm completely over it. But intrinsically, when you see someone you used to hook up with (especially if not hooking up anymore wasn't your idea) you want to have just lost 20 pounds and be feeding your hot bike messenger boyfriend olives off of your Academy Award because that's an average day-in-the-life when you run into him again. You do not
want to be in the hospital with a case of explosive, infectious diarrhea looking like a Proactiv before. That does not communicate, "You know you miss this."

If it weren't for Mr. Intravenous Morphine giving me a vein massage at that moment, I would ripped that shit out and run for the hills. All I could do was lay there and wait for him to come over and say something. "You should throw the blanket over your head, maybe he'll think you're dead and move on," my mom suggested. Best call of the night. I pulled out my pony-tail and started to re-do it. "Oh honey," my mom said, "I don't think trying to fix your hair is going to do anything at this point." Second best call of the night.

A few minutes later, he came in and said hello. It was pretty much your standard awkward-catching-up-with-someone-you-haven't-seen-since-they-were-fingerblasting-you-on-a-couch conversation, except, you know, I was in the hospital with a case of explosive, infectious diarrhea and my parents were watching. So just think about how awkward and horrifying that would be and it was exactly like that.

"So you're not in New York anymore?"
"Nope." My explosive diarrhea and I moved back to DC.
"So what are you up to?"
"Uhh, living in Dupont. Designing. Writing. Same old." Shitting my brains out, not washing my face, clearly only shaving my legs every other week.
"Well, we should hang out some time."
"Definitely!" When I'm not having a butt abortion.
"Facebook me, haha."
"I'll do that." Please don't tell anyone...

After he left my mom looked at me and gushed, "Oh Meghan, he's cute!" IS HE MOM?! IS HE?! Well why don't you just slap some rouge on me, hike up my hospital gown and tell him he has your blessing to administer my next rectal exam, huh?!? Look at what a tasty dish I am; how could he resist?!

After that the PA came back in and explained that I indeed had a severe case of infectious schmiarreha. Given how I'd been feeling the past few weeks, this could be an episode of a bigger problem like Chrone's or Ulcerative colitis, but for the time being I'd be fine with fluids and antibiotics. Fine that is, except for my pride. For which I'd need another round of liquid morphine that, thank god, I got. Right before I was about to be discharged, my mom remembered that I never gave a stool sample and was about to say something to the PA when I turned to her and under my breath manically hissed"SHUT UP DIANE! JUST SHUT UP." Knowing me and my luck, I would obviously have to give ex-hook up my stool sample, or he'd pass me coming out of the bathroom or any number of mortifying scenarios that I can't even think of. And as much as I understood that my mom was worried and just wanted all of our bases to be covered, that stool sample could have held the cure to fucking AIDS and I wouldn't have given it up. Thankfully, I think I adequately conveyed a look of "IM'MA CUT YOU" to my mom and she piped down and I was finally released. Sans stool sample.

As I sat in the car waiting for my dad to get me bananas, rice, applesauce and toast from the Giant, I called Teresa. She picked up, "If you're calling to let me know Mr. Whiteford from middle school is on Facebook, I already know," (Third best call of the night.) No, that was not why I was calling. Instead I told her what had just happened and as I'd needed her to, she laughed and laughed and laughed at my misfortune. "The thing is," she said, "of all the people this would ever happen to, of course it's you." That's also what I needed to hear. Feeling better, my parents took me home where I lethargically oozed around the house with glassy eyes, repeatedly asking my dad for "hugsies."

All in all, not a horrible weekend.


Talia said...

"If you're calling to let me know Mr. Whiteford from middle school is on Facebook, I already know," (Third best call of the night.)


And I agree w/ Teresa, that would ONLY happen to you!

Jess said...

I was having the worst Monday ever... until I read this. I really do love 2birds1blog with all my heart.

Raquel said...

I was crying I was laughing so hard. Not at your misfortune, because shitting blood is not funny, but because you're funny. Obviously.

yellaphant said...

This is one of those stories that brought me back from the brink of my own current "my life is in shambles" breakdown. In fact, you just cranked my lever (that's what she said) way back to "meh, it's okay." So thank you. Just, thank you.

Unknown said...

Oh, bless your doped up little heart. I'm sorry you had to go through that. This will cheer you up, because it could have been worse:


Long story short, Russian explorer on a base in the Antarctic had to remove his OWN appendix.

Hails said...

1) I decided to read this while eating lunch. I'm eating noodles leftover from chinese last night. I have the strongest stomach ever apparently.

2) I decided to take a drink of water and then read "butt abortion."
Dear IT DEPT, I think I need a new keyboard.

Elliot Smilowitz said...

oh my god

i cant find the words

funniest thing ive ever read

Unknown said...

I agree with Jess and Bridget, before reading this I was considering getting drunk at lunch and going missing so I wouldn't have to finish this day! My life totally sucked before reading this.

Thanks for pulling me back!

Sarah said...

I'm starting to think you make all this shit up.
Lonelygirl15, is that you??

But 4rlz, hope you are feeling a lot better - like, good enough to molest a bike messenger.

Grant said...

I find myself speechless. speech. less.

Anonymous said...

bridget. i agree. i think i may have used the exact phrase "my life is in shambles" last night. and this made me feel sooo much better. thanks meg for getting me through another terrible workday!

Unknown said...

Hahahahahahahahahahahaahaa I am laughing so hard it hurts. I had to leave my desk and read the rest of this post on my phone, while sitting on the toilet so I could laugh without my boss realizing he pays me to read your blog and organize iTunes. Classy, right? But for reals, you are the funniest person I don't know in real life, and thank you for making my workday so much better. I'm really sorry about the poop and hookup guy, though. I've kinda been there but that's not something I'm ready to share onthe comments section of this blog.

Unknown said...

oh meggliamos. as a dear dear friend of mine i can only send condolenses over your stomach issues, however, ive never laughed so hard. i love thee dearly.

Angie said...

"poor man's labor pains" is probably the funniest most hilarious thing I have ever read. Having once experienced precisely what that is before in my life, I think I find it 8billion times more hilarious.

Although despite the hilarious awkwardness, I do hope you get better soon!

Unknown said...

I'm sitting in the hallway of one of our academic buildings reading this on my iPod and 2 professors came out of their classrooms to see what all the commotion was... That would be me trying to mute my hysterical laughing. One prof actually looked at me and asked if I heard a dying cat in the hall..awkward.

Jenny G said...

DUDE...I need to stop reading this during the day.....I'm gonna get fired for laughing so hardsies.

Margo said...

While to most normal people this is funny and endearing, it is literally my worst nightmare. I'm having a panic attack right now thinking about it.

You are my hero for dealing with it and surviving. And then writing about it.

James Conneely said...

I too have had a sub par Monday in which I was questioning where I went wrong in life but kinda forgot for a few minutes. Thx!

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

I'm starting to think you make all this shit up.
I would NOT make this up. I am sorry to say that everything in this blog 100% happened to me. Shitty situations are drawn to me like magnets (pun intended!) as anyone who knows me knows. GAWD.

I've kinda been there but that's not something I'm ready to share onthe comments section of this blog.
Really Stephanie? After everything I just said?

You are my hero for dealing with it and surviving. And then writing about it.
I told this story to Chris over the phone last night and when I told him I was going to blog about it today he was like, "o...k...you sure you want to do that?" I was like, "THE WORLD HAS TO KNOW! SOMEONE HAS TO TELL THE STORY!!!!" So thank you for appreciating the pain.

Alex said...

I've never commented before, though I've been reading this blog forever but OMG, I HAD to comment on this one. I just shared this with everyone I know, have ever met in my life and random email addresses I just made up in my head hoping that it will reach some people. Not to share your Dear-God-Thank-You-For-Not-Letting-This-Happen-To-Me misfortune, natch, but because this is the funniest thing I've ever read.

Thank you for existing. *LOL*

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

I just shared this with everyone I know, have ever met in my life and random email addresses I just made up in my head hoping that it will reach some people.
Half of me is excited because yay for blog promotion, but the other half is embarrassed about everyone you've ever known knowing about my extreme bowel problems.

Hmm...I need sponsorship. Excitement wins! Thank you!

Unknown said...

I think that as much as we would all love to see you get a jager sponsorship - I think, considering your tummy issues, perhaps you should be going after Pepto?

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

HAH. Point taken. I don't think jager is interested anyway.

Lindsey said...

I have Crohn's Colitis (little 'o this, a little o' that -- lucky me!) and can I just tell you: "poor man's labor" and "butt abortions" have been added to my vocabulary, effective immediately. I don't make a habit of discussing my food exit strategies or anything, but I could definitely use some new adjectives when talking symptoms with my doc....Best worst day ever story of all time! I really hope you feel better soon!

Anonymous said...

Wow. That qualifies as the most heinous scenario ever. AND I'm dying because I know a male nurse who works in the ED at that hospital. AND he did something very similar to me. Not the whole seeing me while I had explosive, bloody schmiarrhea ... more along the lines of your post from last new years.
Anyway, feel better!

Unknown said...

you are chelsea lately. but funnier.

LW said...

Glad you're not dying.

This will cheer you up!

Unknown said...

butt abortion...literally fell off the bed laughing!!! love the blog, hope ur feeling better!

Anonymous said...

thanks making my day seem better :) I was ready to cry my eyes out, and the i read bout butt abortions hahah. Thanks. feel better :)

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

I have Crohn's Colitis (little 'o this, a little o' that -- lucky me!) and can I just tell you: "poor man's labor" and "butt abortions" have been added to my vocabulary, effective immediately.
How do you deal with it?! Can we be new BFFs?? Guide me through this!

you are chelsea lately. but funnier.
That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. Ever.

scrub and uggs said...

thank you for making me laugh out lout at work in a silent cluster of cubicles.

Unknown said...

"you are chelsea lately. but funnier."


and if you must know..........
A few years ago I had to get surgery of a particularly personal nature, it involves some girl parts but I'm not going to tell you which one(s). Back then no one knew about it, now it's just part of my charm, but high school was a rough time okay?
So I am sitting up on a hospital bed, 3 sheets to the wind on morphine, groggily wrestling my mother away because I thought I could dress myself. I wasn't allowed any hair products and as a girl with a newly shorn chin length bob that has to be straightened everyday, I had a weird mullet-afro thing going on. This is a big part of the story because you should have SEEN my hair, sweet lord.
Anyway long story short, I'm telling my mom to fuck off and let me get dressed by my own self, I see some familiar looking girl in a candy striper uniform approach, before I figure out who she is I start violently barfing into a bowl so hard that I fart pretty loud. My dad laughed and my mom just patted me on the back like mothers do... and only then did I realize that mystery girl is the new girlfriend of a former hook up guy, as per your story.
I think she came over to talk to me later, the details are hazy due to the fact that I was stoned out of my gourd. But I DO remember that a few hours later on my way out of the hospital while I'm in a wheelchair and I'm wearing blue plaid pajama pants and an unintentionally matching huge blue plaid button down of my dads and still sporting the afro-mullet, ex hook up man walks past us into the hospital...but not before looking at me sideways and being all "Hey Steph, what are you doing here??!?"
This isn't nearly as bad as yours because it doesn't involve poop in any way, but I KNOW they talked about it once he got inside. And she definitely told him that I farted.

Only my closest friends are allowed to laugh at this story so if you let out any symbol of amusement you have to pinkie swear that we are gonna be ~*~Best Friends 4eva!!!11!!~*~

Anonymous said...

Excessive Diarrhea: It may be the first sign of Ebola virus infection. It so, the severity of this condition will quickly escalate, and within a few days every orifice on your body will be gushing blood profusely.

Anonymous said...

it musta been the woohoo underoos that scored you another date with the hot male nurse. sorry about the butt abortion though.

Unknown said...

I am dying for more than one reason about this story. Ohhhh, Meggles...

Anonymous said...

You're Mom is so- funny!

"You should throw the blanket over your head, maybe he'll think you're dead and move on," my mom suggested.


Brittan said...

i really feel the need to stand and start a slow clap right now.

caitlin Sherwood said...

i had lots of stomach problems before i gave up meat. i can still have sea food though. just an idea.

also eating lots of greens helps a lot!

as always, you are hilarious.

Anonymous said...

omg you had my crying i was laughing so hard! you're definitely the best storyteller i've encountered in awhile. i'm so sorry that you were that sick though, hope you're all better! (ps it's spelled Crohn's, not Crone's :P)

meg mills said...

meg... i commend you! a friend of mine passed me your blog and to my suprise you are my life twin. I too am a meg (with ann h and 2 n's)with "tummy problems" and a magnet for mortifying moments. I recently went through a similar scenario, but my adventure involved my boyfriend there to help me "prepare" for a colonoscopy of which my grandmother insisted to be present in the procedure room. I will never again be able to drink a margarita , due to the fact that I attempted to mask the horrific flavor of the "prep" with lemon-lime crystal-lite. This amazing day in my life also invloved a very attractive male nurse, but fortunatly it was our first meeting. I can't tell you how many times that I have had that "oh my god, I didn't know I was pregnant" thoughts while waiting for an "explosive bathroom situation." cheers meg!

Unknown said...

One of my best friends turned me onto this blog today. And, well, I have spent my entire day at work reading your blog. At least I know that if I get fired for searching the web reading inappropriate shit whilst working, it was an entertaining last day. You guys are my heroes. And the Tummy Problems blog, by far the more hilarious of the bunch.

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