Day 103: Cleanse your bowels today.Posted: April 13, 2011
WARNING: This post is fairly graphic, even by the standards of this blog. It’s about enemas – self-administered enemas, at that – and will therefore involve the sorts of things that enemas involve. If you don’t want to read about it, now is the time to turn away and pretend I just didn’t write a post today.
We have one of those showerheads that’s at the end of a long-ish hose, the kind that is great for washing one’s feet off when one steps in dog shit, and for washing the dogs just because they hate it and one is mad because one stepped in their shit, and for spraying one’s spouse when said spouse laughs at the whole dogs-and-shit-and-dirty-feet ordeal.
The Book’s self-enema instructions require such a showerhead – or, rather, they require the hose. I unscrewed the showerhead part, greased up the hose, and – per the Book’s instructions – inserted it into my anus. Then I turned the water on.
I realized, almost instantly, that I’d forgotten to get the water to a comfortable temperature first – and almost as instantly turned the water off and removed the hose (a bit too quickly) – but I still learned what it feels like to have very cold water in one’s large intestine. Unpleasant, if you were curious.
So: got the water warm, but not hot; turned it off again; reinserted the hose; turned the water back on; allowed my bowels to fill with water. Thought: why the fuck am I doing this?
The Book recommends holding the water in for fifteen minutes before “letting it flow out” – sounds so natural and gentle, right? – but I wasn’t sure I could make it that long. I wanted to try, certainly, but I also wanted to be prepared for the worst – and so, after filling my colon with water, I stood naked in the bathtub, a timer running on my phone, ready to move to the toilet in a deliberate-but-not-hasty way when the time came.
The five-minute mark rolled by; I felt pretty good – well, physically I felt somewhat uncomfortable, and a bit like Steve Martin in LA Story – but I felt good in the sense that I thought I was going to make it a full fifteen minutes with a gallon of water in my gut. Why I felt good about that, I have no idea.
Then— well, then bad things happened. I was having to work – not hard, mind you, but keeping all that water in required some focus and some muscle control – and then something distracted me. I don’t know what; a noise in another part of the house, a dog barking, a car backfiring. It barely registered, but it broke my concentration just enough that I lost control of my sphincter.
Well, you can guess what happened: water and shit came gushing out of my asshole, all over my legs, all over the bathtub. More shit-water than I thought possible. Gallons and gallons of shit-water. My asshole produced a veritable Niagara Falls of shit-water. I ought to be dead, I lost so much fluid. Fluid mixed with shit, that is.
I stood there in shock for a bit. Half an hour, maybe, covered from the ass down in shit-water.
Then I reattached the showerhead and started cleaning myself and the bathtub. Used a lot of soap, most of a gallon of bleach, some garlic. Eventually I felt clean, sort of. Physically clean, yes; mentally, emotionally, not so much.
That shit-water is going to haunt my dreams.