The Poo Incident

Modern medical science.. advances in palliative care... Death has become a quiet and dignified affair. That is, quiet if you want it quiet. There is no need for extreme pain. No loss of the essential dignity of the dying person.

Do you believe that?

If you WANT TO believe that, DO NOT READ THIS POST ! I have just -- well, yesterday -- had my dignity shattered.

This was: The Poo Incident. WARNING: contains strong poo references. May not offend but is certainly offensive. Feel free to skip to the next post... You have been warned :-)

It's taken 24 hours to ready my mind to write about it. Deb saw me returning from the toilet and said, I don't want to know. But this blog is intended to be honest -- and as complete as possible.

And it was all -- even at the time -- soooooo funny !

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The Poo Incident

You know how it is in a hospital: Nurses (and others) are always asking about bladder and bowel movements. Interesting bladder stuff has already been blogged. Nurses were impressed that my bowels were also working -- or starting to work again -- before I left hospital.

Now I'm home. My appetite is being satisfied with more of the home-cooked food that I prefer. My bowels are working fine, thank you. With a small -- but within accepted historic parameters -- variation.

The consistency of my poo is soft and slimy. Still firm enough to hold a standard shape. Just soft... ish. And slimy. And... sticky.

I go to the toilet. "Move my bowels", no worries. Grab some toilet paper, reach round to wipe -- and find that the lump of poo is still stuck on my backside... Not just hanging... Stuck at an angle within my crena... within the cleft of my bum.

My hand goes to wipe -- with toilet paper -- the spot where I expect to have a smear of poo. Where I expect to clear the passing record of a successful bowel movement.

My hand... itself... wipes across a large lump of poo. Very sticky poo... Absolute yuk :-( Half my hand is suddenly covered with, well, you know what it is.

Attempted recovery. Grab more paper, minimise the spread. Despite my best attempts, my *other* hand gains... a sticky, icky coating.

Toilet paper. More toilet paper. Wipe, wipe, more wipe. Careful wiping... Of course I can't even see where I am wiping. (Well, not at the back, anyway.) I depend purely on the results, on what I see on the successive sheets of toilet paper.

It's lucky that I trained -- many years ago -- on our kids' baby nappies. The actual substance does not worry me. Just... where it is -- and where it could be -- sticking.

I am very careful... very, very careful... to touch nothing other than toilet paper and "affected" areas.

Finally I am satisfied.

Very carefully -- still touching as little as possible -- I pull up my pants. Flush. And flush again. Wash my hands, thoroughly.

Leave the toilet area. Past Deb. I say, I think that I shall now have a shower. Deb says, No, I don't want to know.

I shower. With lots of soap and water, especially in places that I cannot see. Put on clean clothes, just in case.

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Dying with dignity?!

It's said that we are born with no bowel control and die with no bowel control. Yesterday's Poo Incident was, to be fair, just a result of my lack of concentration. If I had considered what was "possible" the result would have been, at the least, less messy.

Within twelve months, however, I expect to have lost that ability to concentrate. Or to respond with sufficient care. I will be dependent on others, to wipe me up. (I could, of course, be dead instead. For better or for worse?) The expected lack of ability worries me.

I'm worried that I will need extra care. That I will be a bother to those who care. I'm also worried that, by that stage, I will have lost the ability to even worry. Which is a worry now -- but will not be a worry, then. So that is -- or will eventually be -- not a worry :-)

Dying with dignity? Possibly not.

But -- for now... It  was and is, sooooo funny :-)

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Oh, btw, please let me know if my sense of humour seems to be changing.

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Now much more than a clever name for a holiday journal:

 https://notdotdeaddotyet.blogspot.com.au/  :-)

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Dr Nick Lethbridge / Consulting Dexitroboper
Agamedes Consulting / Problems ? Solved
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​"Once people have food and drink and shelter, the next thing they must find is a quarrel." … Asmander, per Adrian Tchaikovsky