For whatever reasons, my movements are irregular. There are times I can handle my business prior to work and times I must wait until afterwards. Most of the time it should happen before work, but I am always rushing and that causes me to go mid-day which is hit or miss in terms of going home or not. All this means: today I done fucked up.

Now, I always try to make my medical appointments before or after work because I hate to be out. It is because of my devotion to work, that I may need to go under the scalpel.

My appointment was scheduled for 3:45pm; my mother came to get me at 3:00pm. I had texted her prior to let her know I must go home to make.

Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have time to dre on the toilet because I had to hurry and freshen up since my mother was in the car waiting. Additionally, I also had to pick up my contrast for next week’s scan and I couldn’t just sit around and wait for the rest of the family to deplane.

When my mother and I entered the elevator to go to the office, I told her that I was going to have trouble not letting anything escape and that the head was crowning. Despite her suggestion, I simply could not risk another shartident and in we walked to the office.

As the nurse took us back to the electric table, I became more and more concerned about the impending finger penetration that would undoubtedly cause an eruption in the doctor’s face- literally.

Dr: (Gesturing to the table) Okay Rochelle, you know what to do.

Me: Nurse, drop your pants and lay on the table.

Nurse: (Sympathetically looking at me) You can do this.

Me: (Dying. Dying. Dying. Leaning forward on my elbows; squeezing my ass as tight as possible- knowing how misshapen it must look from behind)

Dr: You have to lean on the table.

Me: I can’t.

Nurse: (Showing me) You can do it; just like this…

Me: (Puts up a fight for a few min.) Just kill me.

Dr: (Moves table so that I have no choice but to put my chest on it)

Nurse: There, like that.

Dr: (Proceeds to try to pry my toosie apart) I need you to relax.

Me: (DYING) I am.

Dr: I need you to take a breath; there. Now push.

Me: (Looking at my mother) Nope.

Dr: I need you to push; I can’t see…

Mother: She’s afraid she will shit on the table.

Me: MA!

Dr: (Pulls out the classroom hand pointer sized Q-tip and puts the table back to its original position) I’m afraid I can’t really see anything since you were (shows me) like this. If you’re still having symptoms, we have no other choice.

Mother: How long is the surgery?

Dr: Fifteen minutes.

Mother: (Looks at me) Oh, it’s nothing.

Me: Okay, we’ll do that.

So, since I was unable to shit before work and because I had a meeting at lunch, I can no longer have one of my chemo drugs in order to have my guppies removed via surgery.