It would be only two or three weeks before I'd wind up in ER, collapsing if I tried to stand, and with a colon on the verge of perforation. I was going 40 or more times a day, losing so much blood, water and nutrition, that I slept constantly, between bathroom runs. Being stupid and in love, I decide this was a perfect time to visit my long-distance partner and best friend.
Holden lived at his parents. No one knew I was bleeding, and no one know how ill I was. I was too embarrassed to admit the extent of my illness. I masked my pain, and only the observant noticed something was wrong. Every time I used Holden's family bathroom, I'd go as quickly as I could, flush, wipe away blood on the seat and bowl, and take off my shirt to fan the air as much as I could. It didn't work, but I felt the need to do anything to cover up how sick I was.
One day, we went to the beach with his mother and sister. We packed sandwiches, donned bathing suits, slathered on sunscreen, and brought some extra cash for souvenirs, ice cream, and games. We were going to have a blast. I decided that even though I wasn't feeling well, I could probably handle it; I was young and invincible.
We piled into the car like the happy family with the weird girlfriend that we were. I expected only a short drive, as Holden's family doesn't live that far from the ocean. When we rolled down the driveway, I could feel my guts oozing, but I held it tight. At the moment, his mother announced we would likely not be stopping for a restroom, because apparently there are no exits or bathroom stops in Maryland, and that the drive was three hours. We could if we had to, but only for an emergency, as we would have to take a long detour and that would add hours onto the drive.
What. The. Heck.
I panicked. I was already in excruciating pain after holding it only several minutes. My bowels threatened to relieve themselves before we got on the highway. I grit my teeth and squeezed Holden's hand. He was oblivious to my pain, but I wanted him to remain unaware. I felt selfish for needing a restroom, and worried that his sister would hate me if I stank up the car, or that his mother will be angry at me for needing to go every fifteen minutes, so I fought back tears, masked my pain, and tried not to squirm.
Two and a half hours in, I couldn't hold it any longer. The pain was unbearable. I had to fight the urge to throw myself from the moving vehicle because I wanted out of the car stat. I ask, timidly, to pull over at the next stop. Thankfully, Holden's mother said she also had to go, and we turned off the highway.
I scurried out of the car, and into the restroom. Pleasegodpleasegodpleasegod. Don't let me have an accident, I am so close. I whipped around the corner, hurriedly locked the stall door, and didn't even bother putting toilet paper down on the seat. The restroom door opened, and I realized Holden's mother would have to use the other stall. I held it, refusing to go, even though I was already on the toilet. I couldn't let her know how ill I was. Not wanting to take long, I only relieved myself a little bit once no one was in the restroom. I felt immensely better, but once I got back in the car, the urgency is struck again.
A half an hour later, we arrived at the beach. We rented some umbrellas to protect against the noon sun, when Holden realized he forgot beach shoes. Feigning interest in taking a romantic stroll down the boardwalk to buy some shoes, I grabbed Holden and told his mother we will be back in a few hours. My ulterior motive was not to smooch under the boardwalk, but to find a toilet.
Holden was still blissfully unaware how poor I felt, and took his dandy time shopping. He looked at the whiskey glasses with humorous slogans and pointed them out to me, laughing. He mentioned a few places we could grab lunch. He whispered once or twice that he loved me. In short, he was being an amazing boyfriend, but I didn't care. I just needed a restroom. Finally, I told him "I kinda need to go". No a problem, we'll just stop at the next restroom. I stand, staring at him with my mouth slightly open, panicked, as he clearly did not understand I needed it right now. He held two pairs of beach shoes up, deciding which he liked best. I let him shop a minute longer, before I grabbed him, and hissed a command to ask the saleslady where the facilities are. Holden moseyed over to the counter, plunked a twenty and the shoes on the counter. I quickly realized he likely wouldn't ask, because my Holden forgets everything in an instant. I, red faced and ashamed, asked the clerk where I could find an outhouse. She replied that it was a quarter mile up the boardwalk.
I barely let Holden get his change. I was a middle distance runner in high school, and this is the ultimate race. Every drop of sweat, every achy muscle, every mile... it was all preparation for this moment. Even in flip flops, I'm fast. I'm not a sprinter, but I can move when I need a restroom. We whiz past everyone. I nearly ran over a few people, but I didn't care. My guts couldn't handle holding it anymore. It'd already been two hours since we stopped on the way to the beach, and I'd needed to go since. My body simply won't let me hold it again that long.
There was a line, but I was able to quickly get a stall. For the first time in my life, I didn't care if everyone could hear and smell. Fifteen minutes later, I finally left, dizzy from the loss of blood and fluid. I collapsed beside Holden, who was sitting on a bench outside the lady's room. We sat there, holding hands and dreaming shyly of a future together, testing the waters of how close we really were. Holden laughed, and I ask him what he was thinking. "We're sitting here being romantic."
"So?" I don't understand.
"We're sitting right outside a public restroom. Toilets are flushing in the background. We're daydreaming about what our children will look like."
We laughed, and I secretly wondered if the bleeding would stop like it did the times before. I wondered why I bled. I wondered, briefly, if romantic moments in front of public restrooms would be our normal. I pushed the thoughts aside. I was already humiliated I took so long in the restroom, but Holden didn't seem to care. I did, however, tell him that it is very important that the next time I say I need a restroom, it means drop everything and get me to the next restroom, no if's, and's or butt's about it.
I did make it home in one piece, but shortly after arriving in Minnesota, I ended up staying in the hospital for a month where I was diagnosed with severe ulcerative pancolitis. Holden and I have potty stories up the yin yang, which are some of our fondest shared memories, and I'm perfectly OK with that being our normal. As far as I know, Holden's sister doesn't hate me for stinking up the bathroom next to her bedroom, and his mom was extremely patient with me constantly bombarding the only toilet in the house. Oh, and the ride home from the beach was much, much easier, and I never even soiled myself that day! Yay!
Word for the wise: Choose an amazing partner with a kind family. Don't go traveling when you're flaring, and make sure you know how long road trips are before you agree to one. That stank. Also, don't hold it, and don't feel selfish. I made myself very ill doing that, and I began to spiral downhill very quickly after that day. Feeling embarrassed is not worth your health!
We piled into the car like the happy family with the weird girlfriend that we were. I expected only a short drive, as Holden's family doesn't live that far from the ocean. When we rolled down the driveway, I could feel my guts oozing, but I held it tight. At the moment, his mother announced we would likely not be stopping for a restroom, because apparently there are no exits or bathroom stops in Maryland, and that the drive was three hours. We could if we had to, but only for an emergency, as we would have to take a long detour and that would add hours onto the drive.
What. The. Heck.
I panicked. I was already in excruciating pain after holding it only several minutes. My bowels threatened to relieve themselves before we got on the highway. I grit my teeth and squeezed Holden's hand. He was oblivious to my pain, but I wanted him to remain unaware. I felt selfish for needing a restroom, and worried that his sister would hate me if I stank up the car, or that his mother will be angry at me for needing to go every fifteen minutes, so I fought back tears, masked my pain, and tried not to squirm.
Two and a half hours in, I couldn't hold it any longer. The pain was unbearable. I had to fight the urge to throw myself from the moving vehicle because I wanted out of the car stat. I ask, timidly, to pull over at the next stop. Thankfully, Holden's mother said she also had to go, and we turned off the highway.
I scurried out of the car, and into the restroom. Pleasegodpleasegodpleasegod. Don't let me have an accident, I am so close. I whipped around the corner, hurriedly locked the stall door, and didn't even bother putting toilet paper down on the seat. The restroom door opened, and I realized Holden's mother would have to use the other stall. I held it, refusing to go, even though I was already on the toilet. I couldn't let her know how ill I was. Not wanting to take long, I only relieved myself a little bit once no one was in the restroom. I felt immensely better, but once I got back in the car, the urgency is struck again.
A half an hour later, we arrived at the beach. We rented some umbrellas to protect against the noon sun, when Holden realized he forgot beach shoes. Feigning interest in taking a romantic stroll down the boardwalk to buy some shoes, I grabbed Holden and told his mother we will be back in a few hours. My ulterior motive was not to smooch under the boardwalk, but to find a toilet.
Holden was still blissfully unaware how poor I felt, and took his dandy time shopping. He looked at the whiskey glasses with humorous slogans and pointed them out to me, laughing. He mentioned a few places we could grab lunch. He whispered once or twice that he loved me. In short, he was being an amazing boyfriend, but I didn't care. I just needed a restroom. Finally, I told him "I kinda need to go". No a problem, we'll just stop at the next restroom. I stand, staring at him with my mouth slightly open, panicked, as he clearly did not understand I needed it right now. He held two pairs of beach shoes up, deciding which he liked best. I let him shop a minute longer, before I grabbed him, and hissed a command to ask the saleslady where the facilities are. Holden moseyed over to the counter, plunked a twenty and the shoes on the counter. I quickly realized he likely wouldn't ask, because my Holden forgets everything in an instant. I, red faced and ashamed, asked the clerk where I could find an outhouse. She replied that it was a quarter mile up the boardwalk.
I barely let Holden get his change. I was a middle distance runner in high school, and this is the ultimate race. Every drop of sweat, every achy muscle, every mile... it was all preparation for this moment. Even in flip flops, I'm fast. I'm not a sprinter, but I can move when I need a restroom. We whiz past everyone. I nearly ran over a few people, but I didn't care. My guts couldn't handle holding it anymore. It'd already been two hours since we stopped on the way to the beach, and I'd needed to go since. My body simply won't let me hold it again that long.
There was a line, but I was able to quickly get a stall. For the first time in my life, I didn't care if everyone could hear and smell. Fifteen minutes later, I finally left, dizzy from the loss of blood and fluid. I collapsed beside Holden, who was sitting on a bench outside the lady's room. We sat there, holding hands and dreaming shyly of a future together, testing the waters of how close we really were. Holden laughed, and I ask him what he was thinking. "We're sitting here being romantic."
"So?" I don't understand.
"We're sitting right outside a public restroom. Toilets are flushing in the background. We're daydreaming about what our children will look like."
We laughed, and I secretly wondered if the bleeding would stop like it did the times before. I wondered why I bled. I wondered, briefly, if romantic moments in front of public restrooms would be our normal. I pushed the thoughts aside. I was already humiliated I took so long in the restroom, but Holden didn't seem to care. I did, however, tell him that it is very important that the next time I say I need a restroom, it means drop everything and get me to the next restroom, no if's, and's or butt's about it.
I did make it home in one piece, but shortly after arriving in Minnesota, I ended up staying in the hospital for a month where I was diagnosed with severe ulcerative pancolitis. Holden and I have potty stories up the yin yang, which are some of our fondest shared memories, and I'm perfectly OK with that being our normal. As far as I know, Holden's sister doesn't hate me for stinking up the bathroom next to her bedroom, and his mom was extremely patient with me constantly bombarding the only toilet in the house. Oh, and the ride home from the beach was much, much easier, and I never even soiled myself that day! Yay!
Word for the wise: Choose an amazing partner with a kind family. Don't go traveling when you're flaring, and make sure you know how long road trips are before you agree to one. That stank. Also, don't hold it, and don't feel selfish. I made myself very ill doing that, and I began to spiral downhill very quickly after that day. Feeling embarrassed is not worth your health!
Yup. Can't even tell I'm sick. Boo-yah.
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