(Be)hold the Mighty Sphincters
You learn something new everyday ... even if sometimes you could do without the lesson.
Along that line I can now tell you that the knowing pharmacist will sell you a box of Dulcolax tablets with your prescription for Vicodin.
Oh, I had noticed that my visits to the urinal had been more frequent of late. I thought perhaps that was just God's way of punishing me for breaking my hand because standing up from a prone position with a set of bruised ribs must be in the Top 10 causes of suicide among adult males.
Anyhow, about four days in I did take notice that, whilst #1 was working overtime, #2 had been missing in action. "Oh," says the CFO, "these pain killers cause constipation!" You could have blown me over with feather. This Vicodin MIRACLE DRUG had a shadowy downside.
Okay, the box of Dulcolax left over from my recent encounter with the Silver Snake was located. I took one for I knew that its tag line "Gentle Yet Effective" was no unfounded boast.
Nothing.
Then I took another.
Nothing.
The next morning I took two.
Nothing.
Then two more before bed.
The slightest of rumblings like that from a thunderstorm somewhere in the next county.
Two more and some apple juice the next morning.
No change.
Two more before bed.
Upon waking this morning I had a most wonderful feeling that this was going to be the day. I communicated these feelings to my sphincter muscles who had, after all, been cramped in the "No Exit Allowed" position for six days and had perhaps forgotten that their cooperation by relaxing their death grip on the ausgang was necessary for the overall success of the endeavor.
Following a nice quiet discussion with my sphincters as I positioned myself in the "Ready" position, they acquiesced to my wishes, thus allowing The Blessed Event to get underway. With the musical strains of the Johann Sebastian Strauss waltz, "Blue Danube", drifting through the canyons of my mind, the parade began ever so slowly (grave) but, by the time it reached the reviewing stands, it had reached a satisfying tempo (con moto). Then, shortly thereafter, the parade turned into an uncontrollable rout (rapido, presto and prestissimo in that order). The logjam had been broken.
Gentle, it seems, has a dual meaning when it comes to Ducolax. It also means delayed or slow or perhaps even both. In any case, it is a stick of dynamite on a slow search for a match to light its fuse.
An hour later, my sphincters needed no persuasion whatsoever. On the contrary, they needed a moral booster to ensure them that they could have controlled the floodwaters had I only asked.
And, finally, half an hour later, my sphincters failed completely when called upon in an emergency situation. Wasn't their fault. Nope. I simply cranked up the washing machine and went upstairs to take a much needed shower.
Life is always so much more interesting when one doesn't read the directions on the box, don't you think?
Along that line I can now tell you that the knowing pharmacist will sell you a box of Dulcolax tablets with your prescription for Vicodin.
Oh, I had noticed that my visits to the urinal had been more frequent of late. I thought perhaps that was just God's way of punishing me for breaking my hand because standing up from a prone position with a set of bruised ribs must be in the Top 10 causes of suicide among adult males.
Anyhow, about four days in I did take notice that, whilst #1 was working overtime, #2 had been missing in action. "Oh," says the CFO, "these pain killers cause constipation!" You could have blown me over with feather. This Vicodin MIRACLE DRUG had a shadowy downside.
Okay, the box of Dulcolax left over from my recent encounter with the Silver Snake was located. I took one for I knew that its tag line "Gentle Yet Effective" was no unfounded boast.
Nothing.
Then I took another.
Nothing.
The next morning I took two.
Nothing.
Then two more before bed.
The slightest of rumblings like that from a thunderstorm somewhere in the next county.
Two more and some apple juice the next morning.
No change.
Two more before bed.
Upon waking this morning I had a most wonderful feeling that this was going to be the day. I communicated these feelings to my sphincter muscles who had, after all, been cramped in the "No Exit Allowed" position for six days and had perhaps forgotten that their cooperation by relaxing their death grip on the ausgang was necessary for the overall success of the endeavor.
Following a nice quiet discussion with my sphincters as I positioned myself in the "Ready" position, they acquiesced to my wishes, thus allowing The Blessed Event to get underway. With the musical strains of the Johann Sebastian Strauss waltz, "Blue Danube", drifting through the canyons of my mind, the parade began ever so slowly (grave) but, by the time it reached the reviewing stands, it had reached a satisfying tempo (con moto). Then, shortly thereafter, the parade turned into an uncontrollable rout (rapido, presto and prestissimo in that order). The logjam had been broken.
Gentle, it seems, has a dual meaning when it comes to Ducolax. It also means delayed or slow or perhaps even both. In any case, it is a stick of dynamite on a slow search for a match to light its fuse.
An hour later, my sphincters needed no persuasion whatsoever. On the contrary, they needed a moral booster to ensure them that they could have controlled the floodwaters had I only asked.
And, finally, half an hour later, my sphincters failed completely when called upon in an emergency situation. Wasn't their fault. Nope. I simply cranked up the washing machine and went upstairs to take a much needed shower.
Life is always so much more interesting when one doesn't read the directions on the box, don't you think?
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