Sunday’s Confessional: In Which I am Rude & Petty
Here’s a steaming pile of embarrassing confession for you: I think I pooped on the operating table.
(And PS? This one is so embarrassing I actually practice confessed it to my husband a few days ago. Completely straight-faced he said to me, “Why, Anne? Why would you ever tell me that?”)
I had no good answer. But I’ll tell you something else: That part I just told you is not really the heart of the confession. I mean, as far as unconscious acts go, unless the scenario includes binge drinking, I don’t think that a person should be held responsible for things they do when they are unable to control themselves.
And c’mon. It’s just poop. I have two small children. Bodily functions in all their glory do not hold the same terror they did when I was 19 and single. Everybody poops. I’ve had to read the picture book on that subject more times than I can count.
The embarrassing part is that as time goes on? And this doctor pisses me off more and more? I am secretly kind of gleeful that I pooped on his operating table. I hope it was really stinky. And had interesting acoustics. And maybe? That the doc has some kind of phobia re: fecal matter.
Ok. Hitting publish now before I can think through whether doing so is a good idea. My only defense is that I’m really angry with my doctor. And also? Am psychologically about two years old, evidently.
Enjoy!
11 Responses to “Sunday’s Confessional: In Which I am Rude & Petty”
my husband promised to tell me if i did…he swears up and down that i didn’t with the first two…and he’s surprisingly quiet about the third….which leads me to believe….
So he did leave his car in your head?
WAH Hahahahahhahahahaaaaa! I hope you did too, and I hope just a little bit got on him!
I’m with bon, and I hope that all the nurses were occupied and too busy to deftly sweep it away, so he had to stand there and bear it.
I need to get me a secret blog so that I can talk about hospital poop! How’s this for neurotic: I practically went all Nicole Richie on all three of my unborn children once I hit 39-40 weeks because I didn’t want my body to create its normal amount of waste matter, lest it make an untimely appearance during the birth (like before my kid’s actual head arrived). I remember sitting in labor and hearing my stomach growling because I was so hungry, but thinking “must! not! poop! on! baby!” And this is from a woman who’s children have puked IN HER MOUTH! Oh, I should have just crapped on them — turnabout is fair play, baby.
I hope it was projectile, like the little chick in the Exorcist’s vomit. I hope they had to get the fire department in to hose down the room (and the doc) after you were back in recovery. And I hope it came out smelling like something inside you had died and that it came out sounding like a bottle rocket.
Also, since I have surgery in March thanks for making me forget the scariness of the actual surgery part and replacing it with the fear I might birth a deuce on the operating table.
HAHAHAHA! I was going to wish for projectile too. He more than earned it, don’t you think?
Oh, man, I loved that. You always manage to reassure me, Anne – when I feel like I’m emotionally 2, I’m glad to know that there are other grown-ups out there who I would fit in with. In Real Life, I always feel like this total impostor as an adult because everybody seems so much better at it than me. Your blog rocks because you share that embarrassing inside stuff that no one admits to otherwise.
I’m sorry for laughing, but that’s hilarious. It proves that karma does exist, because it sounds like the doctor totally deserved it.
This post is the #1 reason why I want to be a monkey. If someone pisses me off, all I would have to do is drop a load and fling it. And they couldn’t have a problem with that because I’m a monkey and that’s what monkeys do.
you have a curious habit of making everything seem all better….aaahh! O.R. poop makes my monday just…better.
hilarious post.