When I started writing this blog in April, it was so I could record what it felt like to poop my pants for what I thought (I hoped) would be the last time.
I mean how often does an adult male find himself in the sort of situation where he can admit having pooped his pants?
I can only think of one other person who ever admitted to it, and he was an exception. I don't think he ever would have admitted it except 1) his girlfriend was there (he was meeting her parents), 2) he was stressed (he was meeting his girlfriend's parents), and 3) he had the flu.
Also, there may or may not have been alcohol involved (it seems like he had a hangover, but now that I think about it, that doesn't seem likely, especially if he had the flu.)
And he was in a public place, the middle of a Cracker Barrel restaurant.
To me (before the stroke) those were the qualifications to poop in public - you had to be stressed, sick, in a public place and it had to be an embarrassing story.
For example, the last time I pooped my pants before the hospital was when I was ten years old and on a hike with the Webelos in Natural Bridge State Park. I got caught short and couldn't get to the bathroom in time so I ended up burying my scout shorts on the side of a hill in the woods somewhere.
Even though I wasn't an adult at the time, I still was married for years before I told the story to my wife, and she still was shocked by it. She kept bursting into laughter and saying, "Your shorts are buried on a hill somewhere!"
No one over the age of three should no what it feels like to poop one's pants. It is a feeling of total helplessness and embarrassment and you just want it to go away, but it doesn't.
When I was in the hospital they had adult diapers the hospital staff would force you to wear if you had an accident. Even if you spilled a pee jug on yourself, they would threaten you with a diaper, which I don't know if you've ever worn an adult diaper but they aren't exactly functional.
When an infant poops itself you can grab it by his or her little feet and clean the cute little baby bottom. It's simple, easy and it's over in a few minutes.
With an adult in the hospital, every one goes into panic mode. Nurses are everywhere, in and out of your room, trying to get someone else to take care of it.
It is not an experience I would wish on anyone, from either end of things, the pooper or the nurse that has to clean it up.
So anyway I was thinking the other night about how I hadn't pooped myself since April and I should write a blog about that, when I pooped my pants again.
I knew it was coming. I had been on the toilet all night and I hadn't wanted to wake Robin and send her to the store for Immodium. As soon as she woke up, she went to the Kroger and asked if I needed anything and I said yes grab me some Immodium.
She was at the store when I had my accident, and I was standing in the kitchen, watching television with my father and waiting for her to get back with the medicine. She either got back just before or just after I had my accident, because I'm pretty sure she had handed me the Immodium and I had already taken two when the poop arrived.
My parents' have no tile in their bathroom and they just put in a new floor, so it was like when I was visiting my friend Rob and he fed me some Shepherd's Pie and his bathroom was being remodeled and I threw up all over the exposed plywood.
His roommate Carl wasn't happy about that the next morning.
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