A happy, pooped weekend

This last weekend was interesting. Both extremely busy, productive and surprising in many ways.
Why pooped? Well read on and see why . . .

First off, Saturday was our annual neighborhood garage sale. It was sponsored by our tract realtors who heavily advertise, put up signs and bring us donuts as we sell. We participate every year to rid ourselves of cast offs, junk, clothes, and trinkets. We always have a great turn out making our day worth while. This year was no different . . . to the tune of $407.00, a truck load of extras hauled off to Goodwill and lots of empty boxes. YAY!

I vowed to never leave my kids the burdensome task of cleaning out my collected junk when I leave this earth. I finally came to the conclusion that I needed to purge all the stuff I've had piled in closets, thinking someday I'll use it or need it. If it hadn't touched it for a year, it was tagged and earmarked for elimination from my life.

For weeks before the big day, I'd take a room at a time, purposefully touching just about every item we own. I'd ask myself, do I need it? At first it was hard to part with some things, but it got easier as I mentally let go. After a while I was on a mission. I was a mad woman, roving from room to room glaring at everything, what else can I get rid of . . . muuwaaahaahaa!

Then came the difficult task. My Mom's boxed things that I had saved, for the ole sentimental reasons. Like the silver plated tea service passed down to my Mom from my dear great Aunt Lee. I have never used it, Jen didn't want a stuffy looking, ornate silver set. What to do? Price it and see what happens. BTW, it never sold and is now on Craigs list.

When my mom passed away 9 years ago, she had at least a 50 year accumulation of stuff. In my eyes a lot of it was junk, but for whatever reasons, she held on to things that should have been tossed years ago. Being a child of the depression, surely had some impact in her hoarding. Much of it held sentimental value, like old dishes from when she and my Dad first got married, even though boxed and not used for decades. It was an enormous undertaking to sort through and get rid of her treasures. I felt guilty every time I tossed, sold, or gave away. These were her things that she held dear. I was, in essence, disecting and throwing her life away.

The things my Mom's husband saved was a whole different story. His domain was the garage, filled with tools, do dads, gizmos, and the most scary, containers of unknown dangerous chemicals. His passing 7 years before my Mom, left the garage intact with his crazy crap. Thank goodness his kids filled 3 truckloads of stinky, greasy unknown containers to the hazardous waste dump.

Back to the sale . . . I was so busy on Thursday and Friday organizing, pricing, boxing and unboxing junk. I ate on the run and barely noticed that I had not gone to the bathroom, you know, #2 bathroom. I felt constipated but really, nothing registered. I quit taking my enzymes a couple months back and had no problems at all. I chalked my 'lack of dump' to busy and nerves.

Saturday morning came early, unpacking boxes at 6am for the early birds. I had a stomach ache and blew it off. As the day progressed, the ache continued and the urge to go was pronounced but I couldn't go. The sale ended in the afternoon, we sent out for chinese take out, ate, and it HIT! I HAVE TO GO NOW! Problem is I couldn't. Oye, I felt like I needed a roto rooter job. Even though I have never experienced this problem, I knew exactly what was wrong, a bowel obstruction. In the CF world, bowel obstructions are common. Not being able to digest foods properly leads to all kinds of GI problems with back ups, diarrhea, extreme gas, and not absorbing calories, nutrients and vitamins the body needs.

The pain became excruciating even after taking Miralax and Milk of Magnesia. Nothing seemed to work. I was in agony and crying. I couldn't sit, I couldn't stand. Finally at 6pm, I cried uncle and begged Terry to take me to the ER. Oh great, what in the world would they have to do to my bum, were thoughts that raced through my mind. The revolting image of a plumbers snake, probing deeper and deeper, overpowered my mind as I writhed in the car seat trying to find a position less painful.

I enter the ER, lots of people, great. I fill out the quicky info form and immediately circle the #10 pain face on the scale of 1 to 10, what is your pain. That should speed up my admit. They bring me back within 5 minutes, take my blood pressure, temp, and ask a few ??. As the nurse clipped the lovely hospital bracelet on my wrist, I felt liquid warmth, in my jeans. Uh oh, I plead for a bathroom NOW! I now know the liquid miracles I drank earlier were finally working. It didn't take long for the whole load to evacuate. WHEW, HUGE RELIEF! I felt like I had just given birth to several softballs, but I didn't care, they were gone from me, happily being flushed down the toilet.

I exited the bathroom with a calm, relaxed look on my face and Terry knew instantly what had happened. I told the nurse, but she said I still had to see the Dr. since I was officially admitted to ER. Thankfully, the Doc came right over, asked if I felt better (well, yeah), looked at me in amazement and couldn't believe he was talking to a 53 yo CFer (oh no, here we go again), asked if I wanted an exam, (no thanks), and said have a great evening! Outta there!

We drive home, relieved, me completely 'pooped' out tired and in bed early. Turned out to be a 'productive' day all around. ; )

And enzymes . . . definitely back on my menu with meals. Oh joy.