Project Awesome

Making my life more awesome

My bowel looks like an inside-out worm

on August 22, 2012

Being a parent means dealing with shit. Single parents, generally, deal with more shit, literally and metaphorically.  Literally, because there’s no-one to share nappy changes with (although also no-one to have tedious arguments about whose turn it is to change the nappy while trying to pretend you’re not that bothered, and no simmering resentment about the fact that you are definitely changing more nappies.  Or towards the baby who always saves the poo for your turn to change the nappy.  Although of course you don’t feel resentful towards your baby. Of course you don’t).

And metaphorically, because you’re also dealing with the fallout from whatever lead to you becoming a single parent, and either you’re dealing with bringing up a child entirely single-handedly, or you’re negotiating sharing care of children with someone else, someone who once liked you enough to get you pregnant and is now either a worthless arse who doesn’t bother with their children, or insists on taking your much-loved children away from you when you don’t want them to, and you have to live with the constant fear that one day your children may decide they would rather live with their other parent.

Whatever.  This post is about the literal kind of shit.  It’s probably going to be pretty grim.  If you like STFU Parents or dislike Facebook posts about potty-training, you might want to not read it. If you don’t want to hear about pooincidents during nappy changes, don’t read it. If you don’t want to hear about what the inside of my bowel looks like, don’t read it.  I’m serious.  I’m not even sure I want to read it.

If you don’t want to read it but you want to look like you have, comments like “I hope she’s better soon” or “I’m glad it all went well and you’re ok” would be appropriate.  Or the ubiquitous “((((hugs))))” from parenting forums would work.  But be aware that I’ll probably be as grimly graphic in my replies to comments as I am about to be in the post.  You can’t say you haven’t been warned.  Although you can stop speaking to me, obviously.



Actually, I decided not to. I think it’s enough to say that I ended up covered in poo this week.  I also had to go into hospital for a bowel investigation.  It wasn’t pleasant but it’s good to know that the inside of my bowel is healthy, and I got to see it on a tv screen.  It looks like a worm turned inside-out.  I had gas and air, which is less fun when not in labour.  That was the biggest disappointment of the day.

Being a day case felt surreal.  I got a bus to the hospital, put on a gown, had the poking around done, passed out on gas and air, came round, had a cup of tea and got back on a bus to go home again. And one thing I realised was just how nice it was to be looked after by the nurses.  I have lots of people who help me with lots of things, particularly my children.  And when I’ve been poorly, people have come and helped – notably my dad, who came and looked after Big Girl and Small Girl when I was ill on my birthday. But he was mainly looking after my children so I could get on with being ill unhindered.  And that’s enough for anyone.  But that luxury of just being looked after, with no children to worry about, by professional caring people, of there only being me to worry about – I had forgotten about that.  I think the last time I experienced that, really, was probably when I was in labour with Small Girl.

I’m not complaining. It’s part of being a parent – along with the shit. It was strange going to the hospital and coming home by myself – I had people I knew would come and pick me up if I needed them. It was strange going through something major without Ex-Husband to look after me. But it’s liberating to know that I can. It’s entirely possible that there’s nothing I can’t do. Almost.


As an aside, I’d like to thank everyone for their comments on my last post – both here, on my facebook page and by text. It’s been incredibly helpful to me, helping me to realise that actually, no-one’s life is exactly what it could be, what they might hope for, and that even if Ex-Husband had stayed, that still wouldn’t have been the best life I could have had.  That this ‘best life’ is an unachievable ideal.  And I felt humbled to hear words of wisdom from people who I know have also had some massive challenges to face and responded to me so graciously.  You’ve made a real difference to how I’m thinking about my life.  Thank you.


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