Skip to main content

Rectum...Damn Near Killed 'Em!

WARNING: there will be gross, disgusting, and/or explicit stuff in here. You have been warned.

The ALS has reached my bowels. (Deadpan Yippie) Yeah, I actually felt my rectum for the first time in my life. A series of involuntary spasms over a couple day period and I can no longer control my bowel movement. I'm at the mercy of peristalsis and I hate it. Complicating things is the development of constipation. Yeesh! And I don't have muscle tone to push anything anywhere! I'm no longer a stranger to Miralax and stool softeners. I'm reduced to discussing my "B.M." how big, how small, what consistency? .

I've actually been feeling spasming in a lot of my organs over the past year. It's been truly frightening. I mean think about it, my heart is a vitally important organ and I've had fasciculations around my heart. Scary. My diaphram is weak. My lungs are weak. Kind of necessary for survival.

I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm just chronicling my more base experiences should anyone care to see another PALS progression. It's been 2 years and 4 months since diagnosis. Add another year as I estimate that is when symptoms began.

Labels:
Location: Seattle, WA, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fall

Orange, gold, rust, burnt sienna, ochre, raw umber; the riot of fall colors, in the trees and at our booted feet; a drive in the countryside; the taste of hot apple cider on my lips; the satisfaction of a truckload of firewood we gathered and cut ourselves; elk herds on the move; hearty stews, savory soup, crusty whole-grain bread, pumpkin and gingerbread spice lattes; these are the memories I tap into the most this time of year. Cabela's fliers in the mailbox; Carhart's camo-clad hunters swarm outlying areas; mushroom garthering; huckleberry picking; logger burgers; forest service roads; cheese sandwiches on the woodstove; warm quilts, cool sheets, and flannel nightgowns; cold butt, warm heart.  Immensely grateful to have the well of memories to draw upon.
Post a Comment
Read more

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my...
3 comments
Read more

Lashing Out

Fed up. Sick of hearing, "I'm sorry."  Apologies don't erase the pain you inflict on me. You pull my pubic hair. Your nitrile gloves pull the hair from my head. Not once in a while but day in and day out. You turn me in a manner that suits you rather than in a manner that doesn't stress my body. Why won't you use the pad and sheet to turn me as one unit? Instead, you allow my body to twist as you hold me one-handed. How good you are at your job. What part of "my muscles are dying" don't you understand?
Post a Comment
Read more