To Poop or not to Poop? That is the question

After starting a second course of chemotherapy, I’m once again plagued by constipation. My oncologist has given me a script for some tablets, but they are not available from my local pharmacy and I’m desperate for relief. However, it’s Sunday, so we dash to Mater Dei emergency pharmacy.

The tablets start to take effect late in the evening. This is after I’ve spent time walking up and down the corridor in our apartment in the hope that a ‘brisk walk’ will help. I’ve also not eaten anything for 24-hours because after four non-pooping days I didn’t want to put anything else in my stomach.

At five am the next morning, I finally get to visit the bathroom. Oh, what bliss! In a state of mild ecstasy, I decide that to poop is such a joy I shall continue with the tablets for another couple of days, before gradually weening myself off them.

I’m feeling so good that I decide to go to the supermarket with Rob, and we are there when it opens. This was a big mistake. Just as I get to the check-out I have to tell Rob to get the car because I feel awful. He runs out and then I collapse. The staff, however, are amazing: I get in the car and they fetch plastic bags for me to vomit in, then they bring me water and help Rob pack the groceries and load them into the car. About six of them helping out. Such nice people. Ironically, I had spent a week wanting to go to the toilet and now I end up soiling myself, which is the final humiliation. I suppose the moral of the story is: Be careful what you wish for!

When we get home, I go straight to the bathroom, strip off and shower. After hauling up all the groceries and parking the car, a pale and sweating Rob comes to check on me. He helps me to the day bed in the sitting room and I don’t move for the rest of the day, except - of course - to visit the toilet!

The bad news is that I had never felt as ill as I had done at the supermarket. The good news is I feel better now.