My Dumping Syndrome horror story (read if you dare)
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*Disclaimer- If bodily functions make you sick, don’t read this post. Otherwise, read on. Prepare to be sickened and (hopefully) amused by my traumatic experience.
On Saturday afternoon my husband and I went to Granite City Brewery for lunch. I ordered the beer cheese Soup, and a lemonade. I had a few sips of the lemonade then gave the rest to my hubby so that I would stop drinking plenty of time before my meal came. Those few drinks of lemonade made my tummy a little sore, but nothing I couldn’t handle.
My beer cheese soup came, and it was delicious. I ate most of the cup of soup (minus the croutons.) I was feeling decent, until I started getting a sharp pain in my sides. I’ve had this pain before, so I didn’t think too much of it…until the sweating started. I’m a heavy sweater, but this was more like I was *raining*. I tried to ignore it, and told myself it was just humid in the restaurant.
After the bill came, we went to the mall to get my dad a gift bag to put his Father’s Day gift in. That only took a few minutes, and then we headed back to the car. When we sat down in the car, my husband looked at me and noticed how sweaty I was. To be polite, he said “It’s pretty hot out, huh?” I replied, “It’s hot, but it’s not THIS hot. I don’t think my lunch is agreeing with me.”
We started out towards home, and within a few minutes the cramping started. My abdomen felt like it was folding in on itself. The sweat began pouring off me even harder. I was literally dripping with perspiration. “Are you okay?” my husband asked me. He must have noticed the tiny, pained grunts I was making and the deep breathing. “I’ll be fine,” I said, gritting my teeth through the nausea.
The drive home was about a 15 minute drive. The whole time I found myself thinking “Just a little further, just a little further.” About 10 minutes into the 15 minute drive, I felt movement in my abdomen. I knew what that meant…my bowels wanted to evacuate. I clenched all my internal muscles and prayed to anyone that might be listening to please, please let this feeling pass. My husband kept glancing over at me with concern on his face. I knew I must look horrible.
I held on tight until we got to the exit ramp off the interstate to our suburb. That’s when a cramp ripped through my abdomen like a knife, and everything let go. I mean everything. Before I knew it, I was yelling “Oh s**t, oh s**t!” as a torrent of explosive diarrhea was making its way to freedom. My husband worriedly asked, “Are you going to throw up?” I cried, “Quite the opposite, actually!”
“PULL OVER!!!!” my husband screamed.
I pulled the car over on the side of the ramp, and got out as quickly as I could. The whole time, the mantra in my head was “Please don’t be on the seat, for the love of god don’t be on the seat.” (We have a new 2013 Ford C-Max) Mercifully, nothing was on the seat. However, the moment I stood up outside the car the mess began to run down my legs. I ran behind the car to try and hide from the passing traffic. My husband scrounged up some napkins from the glove box, and I desperately tried to clean up my legs. In a cruel twist of fate, I was wearing a white sundress. The back was soaked through with brown, foul diarrhea. To put the icing on the proverbial cake, this fecal matter smelled worse than any human feces I have ever smelled.
My husband emptied out the Hallmark shopping bag we had gotten at the mall, and I put it down on the back seat of the car. I wrapped my stinky, soaked dress around me so it wouldn’t get on the seat and sat down on the plastic bag. My husband took over the reigns and drove off towards home as quickly as I’ve seen him drive. “I smell like a barnyard!!!” I cried out in humiliation.
In record time we were home. I ran into the house as quickly as I could, feeling another cramp making its way through my bowels. I tripped and fell on the stairs in my haste, nearly bowling a confused and startled cat over in the process. I managed to make it to the bathroom in time for another torrent of horrifying excrement.
I spent the better part of an hour in the bathroom allowing the last of the demonic diarrhea to exit my body. When it was all said and done, I put on my pajamas, put a heating pad on my belly, and fell asleep on the couch. My husband was polite enough not to bring up the incident and to let me sleep.
And that, my friends, is what we call Dumping Syndrome (also known as “The Most Humiliating Thing That Has Ever Happened To Me”)