The day has arrived. Preparations for my pending anal violation (AV) are nearing the end. I still had a half gallon of noxious "prompt a poop" juice in the fridge waiting to be chugged, glass by gag inducing glass.
I spent most of the night worrying about when to start drinking my next batch of "prompt a poop" juice. So much so that I barely slept. Every hour I'd wake up...too early...go back to sleep...wake up...still too early...and on, and on... Most of the night I spent watching the Food Channel and thinking about food. It's not that I was really hungry, I just wanted to eat.
The directions from the BD's (Butt Doctor) office said to drink the second half four hours prior to check in time. Now I'm worried that it won't work in time. I'm supposed to check in at 11:00...but the AV outpatient center is about a forty-five minute drive from my house. What if the "prompt a poop"' juice doesn't kick in soon enough? What if I'm still pooping when it's time to leave for the AV center? Do I call & tell them I'm going to be late? What if they tell me they'll have to reschedule? Then I'd have to do the pre-game show all over again. No fucking way am I going to do that...What if I think I'm done pooping and have to poop in the middle of the drive? There's NOWHERE to stop along the way. Just a freeway with flatland pastures on either side. I'm worried I'm going to end up shitting my pants at some point. Maybe I should have bought some adult Depends...just in case...but that makes it seem like you're planning to intentionally shit your pants...and that just seems so wrong.
These are all thoughts that are running through my pea brain when I get the "prompt a poop" juice out of the fridge. I poured the first glass and started to chug away...and was immediately rewarded not only with the urge to vomit but with intense brain freeze because the "prompt a poop" juice was too cold to chug. You know the freeze pain you get between your eyes when you eat ice cream or drink something too cold...yep, that's what happened.
Now I don't know what to do, because there's no way you can sip this stuff without puking it right back up. There's no time to let it sit and warm up. I don't have time. I need to get this stuff down the gullet and out the other end BEFORE I have to drive to the AV center. I wonder if I should put it in the microwave but nix that idea because I'm afraid I'd get it too hot and then have to put it in the freezer to cool off at which point I'd leave it too long and be back to the whole brain freeze problem again. I fill the sink with hot water and set the jug in it. It worked.
Let the process begin...again.
When I signed up for this, it didn't occur to me that there would be a "preferable" time to be anally violated. As it turns out, I was wrong. Early morning is where it's at for AV procedures. Why? I'll tell you why. Because if you stoopidly schedule your AV procedure for 11:00 in the morning, you have to continue the pre-game show on Game Day. If you schedule the big event for 8:00 in the morning, you only have one day to experience the pre-game show festivities. When you know you have to get up on Game Day and drink more of the gag inducing beverage it just makes for a long sleepless night. Trust me on this future AV participants and plan accordingly.
The Husband, bless his heart, took time off work to make sure I actually followed through with the Game Day activities, but the night before the pre-game show, he dropped a little bomb which I'm sure contributed to my Nervous Nellie worries about pooping my pants.
"I made an appointment to get the bed liner sprayed on the pickup" he tells me while we're watching TV.
"Oh, good, when" I say, thinking it's going to be on my regular day off work.
"We drop it off Tuesday morning before your thing" he nonchalantly says.
"What?" I realize I'm screeching..."I can't go driving around before that. What if I'm still pooping and can't leave in time?" I know I'm starting to sound panicky.
"You'll be all done by then" he calmly says, like it's no big deal. See, when he did the AV procedure, he had it in the early morning, so his pre-game show was over with the night before.
"I have to drink the second half that morning. What if I'm not done in time?" my panic increases.
"You do?" He says, like it's the first time he's heard it. "Well you should still be done." Never does it occur to him that it may be a little inconvenient for me on this particular day. The Husband just sees a way to kill two birds with one stone...no big deal...to him anyway. The Husband always manages to come up with some convoluted plan when cars need to be shuffled around for various repairs...and he always makes it harder than it needs to be.
"Maybe you should have your brother meet you at the truck place and drive you over to the AV center" I suggest. Then I think about it. It probably won't be a big deal...fifteen extra minutes. I'm trying to be rational when all I really want to do is scream "how could you be so stoopid?". But...he means well...so I keep my mouth shut. "Well," I say "we'll just see how it goes".
I finish the pre-game show morning cleanse beverage without puking my guts up...barely...and figure I need to leave the house by 9:30 at the latest. It's a little after 6:00 and I'm waiting to start another round of bathroom visits...and waiting...and waiting...until finally the cleansing begins...and continues...and continues...
By 9:30 I'm panicking. Now I just know I'm never going to make it to the AV center without having to stop and cleanse, aka/poop, a little more. It probably doesn't even have anything to do with the cleansing ritual anymore. I've probably just made myself so nervous that now I have the nervous shits. You know how when you're in a stressful situation and your nerves are shot? Suddenly you get that pre-diarrhea feeling in the pit of your stomach giving you warning that soon you'll be shitting your brains out? You know that feeling? Everybody knows that feeling, don't they? I mean, I can't be the only one, can I?
I finally leave the house at 10:00 hoping I've reached the end of the pre-game show ritual. When I get in cell phone reception area, I call The Husband to tell him I'm running late but I'm on my way and the call goes directly to voice mail. He calls me back.
"Yeah, I called my brother and he's gonna meet me at the truck place and drive me over to where you are so I'll just meet you there" he says...like doing this was his idea and not something I suggested two days ago...when I could've been spared the nervous shits...God love him...
"Okay" I play along.
When I get to the AV center, The Husband is walking up through the parking lot. I have him go park the car and I enter the tiny lobby of the torture chamber. It's full. There's only seven chairs and only is empty so I snag it. Everyone looks at you when you walk in because everyone knows why you're there...because everyone is there for the same thing...to be anally violated. We're all a bunch of oldsters here for the opportunity of a lifetime...having a camera shoved up our asses.
Everyone was told they had to bring someone to drive them after the "procedure". Next to me, there's a mousy little dark haired woman whose ride must have already left. Next to her, there's a guy who looks like a retired professor with his wife, and next to them, there's a tough looking blond with her friend who looks like she stepped right out of 1963 complete with an Ann Landers hairdo. Remember Ann Landers? The advice queen? She and her sister, Dear Abby, dished out advice nationwide in syndicated newspaper columns. But I digress...
Everyone's joking about their pre-game show activities. The professor informs us that this is his second attempt after failing to complete his previous pre-game show activities. "I couldn't finish drinking that stuff the first time" he says. He's looking at me, but I don't know how to respond...or if I should? What do you say to something like that anyway? Fortunately, everyone laughs and I'm spared the effort of trying to think of an appropriate response, when in walks The Husband. I'm ridiculously happy to see him but there's nowhere for him to sit. "You don't have to stay" I tell him "they'll call you when I'm done".
"Oh no" he says for all to hear "I'm gonna make sure you don't try to make a run for it". Everyone in the room laughs. That Husband...he's such a chuckle head.
The mousy lady next to me is escorted into the torture chamber behind the door so The Husband takes her seat. The professor's wife, who has long gray hair that needs to be washed, talks about reading glasses with me and The Husband as one by one the AV participants are lead to their doom. Finally it's my turn...I kiss The Husband goodbye.
Everyone in the torture chamber was really nice. My nurse, Jane (not her real name), gave me the obligatory backless gown telling me the opening was supposed to be in the back. No shit???? Do they really have to tell people that? Jane also said I could keep my socks on...so I did. I'm sure I looked stunning when I came out of the bathroom in my knee length backless gown with calf high boot socks on...but truthfully, I was trying so hard to keep the back closed so my butt didn't hang out that I really didn't have time to care what it looked like. When I got to my pre AV digs...a bed curtained off from other beds, Jane said "bare bottom goes on the pad"...those were her exact words. Honestly, if she hadn't said that, I would've been trying to keep the gown closed in the back the whole time I was laying down.
Jane continued her pleasant chatter while explaining what was going to happen before, during, and after the AV. Then she got to a little part about "having to pass gas" before you could leave to go home. WTF???? I said as much although not quite so crudely. "I know...women have the hardest time with that part" she said "but it's odorless because it's just air". Somehow that didn't make me feel any better.
They wheeled me in to the final chamber where I met the Doc. He was East Indian, around 40'ish, pleasant, asked me a few questions and then they gave me a shot...when I woke up, I was back in one of the curtained cubicles.
Even though I was sort of rummy I totally remember hearing farting all around me. I couldn't see my curtained off counterparts, but I'm fairly certain that the professor was in the cubicle to my left as the fart sounds emanating from that area had a distinct "guy" sound to them. I wanted to laugh...but I had to fart and if I started laughing, I'd have no control.
Please God, I thought, let them be quiet ones as I started farting. And they were...at least I thought they were. But everybody else probably thought theirs were quiet too and I could hear all theirs so I don't know what made me think that "mine alone" were going to be quiet farts. Never in a million years did I ever imagine that I'd ever be in a room full of strangers and we'd all be filling the air with fart sounds.
Still, I'm holding on to the dream that mine were the quiet ones...it's the stoopidist thing.