Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Seventy two hours of noisome reek

I was struck by severe IBS and gas pain from early Saturday morning and it didn't leave until late Monday night. 

The gas I expelled was foul, wretchedly so, and I whimpered in clouds of my own smell. 

I had pain meds, charcoal and hot water bottle on a warm day with the air con on to help manage the extreme discomfort of bloating and the unpleasant sensations blaring from my abdominal surgery scar—a fat, old school pre-keyhole kind—and beneath it.

There was also liberal use of air freshener spray. 

But it passed at last and I emerged from my fetid hollow to sniff fresh air and go out into a bright spring morning.

I'm Mole meets Johnny Fartpants.

No comments:

Post a Comment

No comments needed, really.

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.