After exiting the hospital, it was my mother who brought it up. The nuclear option. The one I didn't quite want to risk before.
And, desperate to find some relief against the war being waged within my lower intestines, I found myself in the laxative aisle of the local pharmacy. With my migraine aura in full effect, and half of my vision obscured by a
kaleidoscope of wavery lights, I decided on some
bisacodyl tablets, under the brand name of Dulcolax. "Gentle, dependable overnight relief" sounded like what I needed...that and it was the cheapest thing available.
Gentle relief it was not. Had I been more cognizant, I would have realized that a stimulant laxative may have not been the best choice.
I got home, took two of the tablets (with plenty of liquids), turned off all the lights (and the volume of my beloved radio), and somehow managed to sleep through the worst of the migraine. I awoke with just the last lingering bit of headache and nausea...and an uncomfortable gurgling in my stomach. Sir Dulcolax had journeyed through the treacherous labyrinths of my digestive system and awoken the sleeping beast.
I prepared myself for the battle: I drank some more liquid, ate a few saltine crackers to fortify myself, and prepared myself with copious amounts of reading material, wet wipes, and baking soda.
(Baking soda? Well, it works for litterboxes.)
Every few minutes felt like my lower gut was being forced through a tube of toothpaste, as Sir Dulcolax fought against the monster in my bowels.
And finally, it fled. It was rather a magnificent specimen, really, but I'd only caught a brief glimpse of it before it was quickly followed by several litres of molten poop water that probably reached an unprecedented level on the
Bristol stool scale. (I guess I overdid it on the liquids.)