WHAT FRESH HELL

So This Is Constipation?

Omigod! Really? I had no clue

Where the battle began Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

I thought I knew what constipation was. I foolishly shrugged aside other people who complained about it, privately thinking them weak or overly sensitive. I must apologize to all because I had no frigging idea.

I previously thought constipation was a momentary hesitation, a reluctance, a “just a sec, boss” message from my bowels. Thanks to a recent operation to remove what my doctor insisted was a cancer in my bladder — but was low grade and easily defeated — I now know the agonizing truth, the effing unbelievable total truth about this innocuous-sounding affliction.

Really, “constipation”? That’s too soft a word, too friendly. It should be harsh, angry, guttural, and filled with sharp K’s. Perhaps it should bend spelling convention and include a few exclamation marks.

“Dama!fukka!garrunkafoo!”, anyone? I’ll do without the “!”’s if you insist, but I’d like our dictionaries modified to use this instead. It is only fair to warn people what they may be facing.

My epiphany came two days after the operation mentioned above. It was not a total surprise as my doctor had advised me to start taking a stool softener right after he finished hacking away at my insides. But he did not warn me of the perils ahead…