September 2, 2014

The following was written on my last day at the Djuma Game Reserve

I've just taken the most difficult shit of my life. This is not an exaggeration. I've had bad episodes before, and surely will have many more to come (India, I see you). But this afternoon's stool session stands as one of the most difficult things that I've come to pass (hehe). But this is no laughing matter...

...better to start at the beginning.

My cousin VY has recently undertaken a diet known as Banting. It's like a kinder version of Paleo, favoring proteins and fats while forbidding sugars and carbohydrates. Mercifully, it also allows diary of all kinds (milk, cheese and yogurt thank goodness). It promises rapid weight loss (to those that need it), elevated energy levels and enhanced athletic performance by forcing the body to burn fat instead of carbs through a process known as ketosis.

What it doesn't tell you is that such a drastic change in diet may lead to increased episodes of constipation, a lesson I'm not likely to forget.

Now, the thing about my digestive system is that I have been blessed with regularity. Every morning like clockwork my insides do their familiar jiggle letting me know that it's time to have a crouch. These morning rituals are usually a two minute affair: get in, drop the kids to the pool, then have a thorough wipe leaving me free to conquer the remainder of the day. No struggling, no coaxing, no fussing about.

The other thing about my digestive system is that it will not be denied. If my bowels wish to be evacuated then I delay a visit to the Porcelain Throne at my own peril, constipation or no.

Such was the situation this morning.

Pain of Thrones

Slipping into my usual routine I sat down and immediately knew I was in trouble. With last night's extra helping of oxtail weighing heavily on my conscience, I tried in vain to do my business with limited success. Extreme effort was rewarded with only a pitiful payload. A dribble when I'm used to a downpour. What transpired over the next twenty (twenty!) minutes was one of the hardest things I've ever had to endure in my indolent life. In the interest of good taste I will spare you, gentle reader, the finer details of this episode and will leave you instead with only a single mental image. To wit: hands fastened to seat in a vice grip, head thrown back in effort, teeth bared and clenched, one leg lifted slightly off the floor for leverage.

Random and half-remembered thoughts during the ordeal:

* Inverted nail
* Immediate conversion to Veganism
* Swearing off of caffeine for life
* New found respect for the miracle of childbirth

Afterwards, brow slick with perspiration and my work done, only sweet vacuous bliss. The day's energy expended, I spent a good portion of the morning sitting in a padded chair contemplating my life choices.