23 June 2008

Kim vs. A Pressing Urgency

Jeremy's been begging me for weeks to contribute something to the blog, and I've been delaying while I ponder what truly remarkable, insightful piece I could submit. I've had a number of really great insights, stories, etc. collecting to be shared with all of you. Unfortunately, THIS story is not one of them. Jeremy insists, however, that it must be told.

It all started early one Monday morning, when everything was under control in the ol' excretory system. No urgent business, if you know what I mean. I got to the office early and got started on some projects. I had to make an appointment with the doctor, so I though I'd call early, before everyone else arrived.

I dialed the number, and just as the voice on the other line picked up, I felt it. That critical, undeniable, URGENT need.

But instead of hanging up, I figured, "I can handle this. I'm an adult. My sphincter knows who's the boss here."

So we start through the preliminaries:
last name
middle name
maiden name
mother's maiden name
phone number
mother's phone number
insurer's phone number
and so on...

Little by little, I start shifting weight, folding and unfolding myself. People are now arriving for work, and I greet them with an awkward grimace.

I'm squeezing with enough force to crack a walnut. Or possibly a coconut.

Then - right in between "Hang on the line while I check for availabilities" and "Just a few minutes more..." I realize that the sensation has changed.

To my horror, I realize that something is ever so slowly making it's way towards freedom.

And I think, "Oh s***." (And indeed it was.)

Let me take this moment to talk with you about transcendent experiences. They say that when you have one, your senses become finely tuned, your awareness heightened and perhaps focused sharply on some new enlightenment. I think I understand this feeling. In this moment, everything in the room became eerily silent, as the entire focus of my body concentrated like a laser on the new enlightenment that I had actually... pooped my pants. It was a feeling of deep
understanding that I cannot fully express.

The woman FINALLY comes back on the line and I'm like, "okaythat'sgreatnextweekokayfinebye."

At this point I'm now using sheer force of IMAGINATION to keep things under control and praying for some suspension of the laws of physics and gravity just so i can keep my dignity.

I slam the phone down and waddle out of the office, knees squeezed together, vision starting to blur.

Avoiding people down the interminably long hallway, I dive into the bathroom and find myself face to face with Shuffly Tom, the cleaning guy.

I shove his bewildered self out the door with a curt, "I REALLY need this room right now!" and rush towards freedom in a 3'x4' cubicle.

If you are on the edge of your seat (as I was), you will be relieved to know (as I was), that I escaped mostly unscathed. And no one was the wiser.

Until now. When, much to the chagrin of my mother, I cast all dignity aside for your middle-school amusement.

I ask only one thing of you: make this story even more grand and glorious by adding fabulous and quasi-embarrasing stories of your own! Yay!


Tarah said...

Thank you for sharing this fabulous story. I will put aside all shame and add my similar experience. In my case we were camping and in the middle of the night the last thing I wanted to do was climb out of my nice warm sleeping bag wander through the outdoors trying to navigate in the dark the rocky path to the outhouse. I too figured, "I have this under control. I can go back to sleep and in the morning I'll take care of business." A while later I woke up again and looked at my watch and it was only 1AM. At this point it is very obvious to me that I need to leave the tent, which is very difficult to do when trying to move fast and not have any accidents. I happily report that I lived through the situation also relatively unscathed, and with the knowledge that it takes much longer to get out of a tent in an emergency situation than when you are nice and relaxed!
Jeremy was right, it had to be shared...although, I do look forward to more stories from you!

aaron wk said...

ask jeremy about FMBM. that's a good story in the same vein. i'm proud of you for putting aside your (near) shame to tell us that story. you brought light to a very dark sphincter of a world. : )

Anonymous said...

Miss Kimi,
After my initial head shaking accompanied by the "sigh of resignation" that I suppose other parents find themselves expressing when their adult children are gonna say what they're gonna say, I belly-laughed until it spasmed and Alex worried that the sounds emitting from me might be fatal...but we're all good...all good now...deeeep breath.

Nice to have you contributing to the blog again...(she said reservedly with a sigh...)

ps I remember a few times when you didn't make it but since you where there and every mother of a 2 year old has those tales to tell, I'll spare your readers ......you're welcome! I love you, my lil' poop.

Nate Heldman said...

while i cannot, since the age of 2 (as your mother indicated was also true of you) say that i have involuntarily dropped the deuce...nor have i done so voluntarily...i have always been amazed at the sphincter's supernatural ability to sense the nearness of a bathroom.

if the urgency to go is excruciating while driving home, the sphincter believes that that act of parking is now the cue to release its tensions. only a very strong edict from the command module can override the launch codes. assuaged for the moment, arrival at the front door causes the aforementioned muscle to re-assess the situation and release on three (not even the Go of 1,2,3, Go!) is the new order of the moment. this time it must be the command module in agreement with all other parties. other muscles vow to boycott the body if the sphincter does not obey. it succumbs to the pressure and yields, if only temporarily.

the bathroom door emits a low level radiation field noticed only by a muscle that basically shields one's drawers from a Superfund site, and upon recognition of that field, the countdown begins again. this time it usually takes a physical attack on the nether regions to keep the launch from happening. during this launch, doorknobs are missed, fumbled, and the launch condition goes to red.

one last obstacle...the belt. when the physical assault has to stop in order to release the belt, buttons, snaps, velcro, rope or other assorted pant holder-uppers, it's go time. now begins the race. can your fine motor skills win against a lower (much lower) functioning system? will the toilet seat be up causing further delay? will you spin to sit only to notice on the way down that there's no toilet paper? your mind's incomparable ability to assess notes all these things...but they are stored away for the next time this war starts. this one's already over...

Anonymous said...

Kim and Jeremy,
This is Art. You know, back in 2006 I had a little issue myself. I had come down with a stomach bug which had caused me to vomit. I decided to lie down, since I was feeling quite ill, and was flipping channels. I sort of settled on Panic Room, drifting in and out of consciousness when rather suddenly I let out a little farce (fart + feces = farces, singular: farce). Some would call it a shart. Whatever you want to call it, I shat myself while flatulating. It was a profound moment for me, and I actually felt like I could relate better to my patients (I'm a nurse) who shiz themselves pretty regular like.

Jared said...

A few years ago, I was camping in Yosemite. After bedding down for the first night of our week there, I quickly realized that I had a not-so-pressing urgency, so I ignored it.

After drifting off to sleep, I had a delightful little dream featuring the predictable need. Luckily, I woke up at the crucial moment, narrowly avoiding a disaster that would have likely overtaken the two other parties that happened to be sharing the tent. but seeing as they were deep in sleep, and I was sandwiched between them, I chose not to risk waking them, and went back to sleep.

Soon after, the exact same dream presented itself again... with the exact same result: close shave, no horrific event, return to sleep. Having apparently taken a fancy to me, the dream visited once again. Just as the moment of truth was to come, I heard an audible voice expressing it's relief that I was awake this time. To which I replied that it was a good thing I was awake. And promptly woke up in a warm pool. Thanks, subconscious, you've always got my back!

nunface said...

Reading this blog makes me have to go to the bathroom.