#10


"the incident"

my memory tells me that it was sometime late june/early july. katie and i took off running from the house as we already had many times since moving into the trussville house on lake street. our normal route took us from the top of lake, down to a left on rockridge, right onto oak, crossing north chalkville and taking a left up to turning right onto pine. at the old junior high, we reach our first mile marker. we would hit the sidewalk and take a right on the sidewalk, heading down towards highway 11.

my stomach didn't feel "right" before we left the house, but that was often the case before a run. i don't know if it's anxiety or what, but it wasn't so uncommon that it frightened me away from running. many times, i'd start a run with a nervous stomach feeling, but it would fall away by the time i hit the first half-mile marker. not so much that day.

my stomach rumbled the entire first mile. at two or three different points, i had to struggle and concentrate really freaking hard to not let the hatch fly open. once we hit the old junior high, i started planning the pit stop. we would pass the park in about a half mile. i would duck in to the restroom there, take care of business, and we'd finish the run. as we approached the park, something changed, if only for a moment. i felt fine, good even. we jogged past the driveway to the park, i looked to the left, and i figured whatever was boiling inside of me was gone. i couldn't have been more wrong.

we got about a hundred yards past the park and the feeling hit me again. hard. i had to come up with a new plan, fast. the hatch was about to fly open. home was way too far away. i didn't think i could even turn and make it back to the park. construction was (and still is) happening right at highway 11 at veterans park. surely, surely there would be a port-a-potty there that i could dive into. at this point, i told katie something severe was about to happen and we were going to have to hit the pause button. she agreed she'd just run on to highway 11, finish the second mile, and then come back to meet me.

we got to the park. i was sweating a freezing sweat. my sphincter squeezed as tight as i possibly could, i turned into the park. looking around feverishly for the mobile toilet, there was not one to be found. plan b. on the fly. the first thing i came upon to hide behind was a bulldozer. like mark renton in trainspotting, it made no matter that this would serve as the worst toilet in trussville. what mattered is i didn't want to crap all over myself two miles away from home. i crouched behind the bulldozer, scraping my bare ass on one of its teeth on the way down and let nature run its course. it was the most freeing and terrifying feeling i had ever experienced. here i was, in the light of dusk, hid as best i could behind a bulldozer, shitting waterbabies all over the ground and my shoes. once i finished, i cleaned up with what i could find on the ground around me as best i could, and i came out from behind the bulldozer, probably as pale as a ghost.

katie knew something was amiss, but she wouldn't ask for details, thank god. i told her we needed to walk back, and i made her walk a step ahead of me the whole way, embarrassed that she would see or smell the evidence left on the back of my legs and my shoes. we made it to the house. i told her to not look back at me on the way to her car.

i walked in the house and sarah was in the kitchen. i stripped down in the laundry room, so humiliated, and asked her not to talk about it. not now. i walked naked through the house to the shower, to wash away the feces and the shame.

and that was my first experience with my chemo stomach that has stayed with me for the last ten months.

#10

toxicities present:

chemo stomach/waterbabies - how many times in your adult life have you crapped your pants? once? a couple? maybe three? before chemo, i could probably come up with a time or two. you think you are just passing some gas, and whoops, something comes with it. it sucks, and, again, it's shameful, but like the kids book that educates toddlers to the fact that "everybody poops", everybody also, at some point, craps their pants. if you deny this, you lie. since the chemo treatment began, and since the fateful day of the incident, two hands would not be enough to count how many times this has happened to me. i've gone from being crestfallen the first few times it happened to now, where i have lost any pride or potential for shame i once had. at this point, it's just, "uh-oh. crapped my pants again. gotta run home and change. it's not embarrassing anymore. it's just a minor inconvenience. and this is unfair and sad.

the feet feel about the same as yesterday. tender, not terrible.

my head has hurt all freaking day for some reason.

muscle stiffness. i pulled a bag off topstock this afternoon and was afraid my traps were ripping to the bone, which is to say it hurt.

reflux was pretty bad through lunch when i was finally able to refill my prescription. it's a little better now.

some nausea. not the worst ever.

death by a thousand cuts.

pain (scaled 1-10):

6