Some of you don’t know this, but I teach 8th grade. 8th graders are the strangest creatures. They look like mostly formed adults, they talk like mostly formed adults.
However, they are still children.
I’ve only been teaching 8th grade for 2 years now, but I’m starting to believe there is a tangible reason I’m teaching here…. In a lot of ways I’m just as immature as them.
So, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, tonight’s blog post is about…. Poop.
Before I begin to sing the praises of pooping (and I shall), I must announce, with sorrow, that Shelley has ordered me NOT to write a blog post about poop, as it is inappropriate, and not to be shared.
I shall now cast aside her concerns and plunge (I fear there may be many puns in here, beware) forward with my tale.
I like to joke about poop. I like to make random poop comments to students. I once took a picture of this EPIC blowout when Anya was a kid in which the poop shot up into her armpits and stained her onesie like a Rorschach test blot.
In probably my worst parenting moments, but one I bond with Anya the most in…I try to make her ask for Poopcorn at Target when we stop in to get it afterschool. She is totally out of her mind with embarrassment, but she wants the popco…er Poopcorn so much that she considers it…but then she reconsiders it because we’re NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK ABOUT POOP. …and that’s kinda the point of this post.
For those of you who are new to the cancer thing….chemotherapy is not kind to the body in many ways, but one of the most dynamic ways for Amelie is that she has massive pooping problems.
She starts out her chemotherapy rounds (each round is roughly a month) with massive constipation. As of tonight, she was on day #6.
- · Go to McDonalds, and buy 3 hamburgers. The basic ones.
- · Take a bite. Chew it up. Don’t swallow.
- · Keep doing this until you have every square inch of your mouth fully extended.
- · DO NOT SWALLOW.
· This is what Amie’s abdomen looks like.
We use lactulose. We use miralax. We use Colace. We soften. We hurry. We push it out, push it out, way out. It doesn’t move. You don’t want it to get too packed in there, as it could rupture.
But any of you who are still reading (are any of you still reading?), you’re thinking about the balance of power. The Jedi vs. the Sith. The Yin and the Yang. U-M vs. MSU.
If you give too much of the poop interventions, you end up swinging the pendulum back the other way too far, and that’s possibly even worse. Once the 2nd half of the chemotherapy trick sets in, you’re already going to have that problem. Accelerate it even more, and you’ve got disaster. Ya see, the chemotherapy, in addition to the prophylactic antibiotics, wreaks havoc on the balance of bacteria in the GI tract. You swing from constipation land to diarrheaville. Not a fun detour.
I was driving home tonight thinking of how absolutely lucky most people are to be as good of poopers as they are. We DON’T TALK ABOUT POOPING, but it’s one of the most essential parts of our own happiness. Doubt me on that one? Eat a box of Imodium and call me in a week with a report.
Anyway, I’m starting to lose my amusement for the whole thing, so I’ll share the last few bits of information.
I had a few spare minutes earlier today and made this design. I'm seriously considering designing and selling T-Shirts and Patches for this...
It’s in honor of today. Today’s the 2nd, #2 in some places. From now on, when I’ve got to head to the toilet, I’m going to be going in for a 6-2 (todays’ date). For me, like Kramer with Festivus, I’m creating a national holiday. National Healthy Pooping Day.
As of a few minutes ago, Amie came out and announced that she’d pooped in her sleep. (wrap your heads around that one!) She popped out a baseball sized chunk, and there’s probably a ton more where that came from in the days to come. But she’s far more comfortable, far more able to sleep, and maybe…just maybe… we’ll get to sleep through the night tonight.
Just a reminder: For those interested, B-Dubs fundraiser is on Wednesday!