I was trying to think of a better title, something clever.  Then, it occurred to me, the truth is really just about all one needs.

First, lets acknowledge the trend….  I had my third infusion of Doxil yesterday.  Annnnd, once more, here I sit, 233am in the morning, because I feel awake and want to keep hold of that feeling for a little bit longer before the inevitable fatigue grabs me for bout a week.  The second infusion fatigue didn’t last as long as the first, so I am hopeful that this time is less still.  No problems with the administration of the Doxil.  However, when they went to access what is supposed to be my oh so convenient port, it seems that my body had decided to encase, from inside, the little fucker.  So, some sort of Fibril Sheath grew over, around, in, I really don’t have a grasp on this one, and prevented the “oh so convenient port” from being, well, convenient.  Because, after approximately a dozen flushes of saline to pop it out, and then having me lay flat and cough, and then bend over and cough while pushing saline, it would not clear.  So, we then have to administer some sort of “roto rooter” chemical into the “oh so convenient port” and let it sit there for one fucking hour to dissolve my mighty Sheath.  Resistance is everywhere.

So, let’s talk poop.  When my cancer figures its way around whatever drug we are using, I predictably start getting little broken/fractured ribs, pains in back, tiredness.  Usually, these happen with no discernible moment of detection.  Mostly, I just seem to wake up and notice that it hurts to breath or lift anything or sneeze.  

However, I think it was March, maybe April, and I was driving home from work, which is an hour away.  About halfway home, it suddenly occured to me, with a clarity that only these special moments can bring, that I had to poop, right fucking now.  Like, at least a full minute before I wrote that there sentence,  “I had to poop right fucking now.”    The goal, the shining beacon of hope, is my first floor half bathroom.  My body goes into hero mode…..  every muscle that is available to voluntary control is deployed to CLENCH!!!!!!    I leave my right foot relatively undeployed to allow braking and acceleration of the car.  My ears and eyebrows are flexing upwards, towards heaven, to encourage the poop sliding further and further down my large colon to reverse its course and move up… UP!!!!   My butt and back and torso are clenched in such a way that I image professional body builders would give me a knowing nod and wink.    My thighs clench “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!!”    Small droplets of sweat have formed on my brow…. I take this as encouragement because perhaps, just perhaps, I will dehydrate before my sphincter expels this devil train.  Constipation viewed as a welcome defense.  

Waves of treason spasm from my butt as those forces which seek to expel will not abate.  But, this is my line in the sand.  I will make it to my wee half bathroom with this poop still lodged in my ass if it is the last thing I do.  THIS IS A TEST OF WHO IS BOSS!!!!!   Do we let the shit set the tone or do we clench down and say not today, el shito, NOT TO-FUCKING-DAY!!!  This moment become a microcosm to me of life itself and the mighty battle against metastatic cancer.  And, Mister, Cancer is getting its ass clenched today.  My driveway is….. right….. there…..

Now, I think it is fair to imagine that a body clenched in a sitting position might have certain difficulties in becoming upright.  I sort of stumble out of the car and do the “she looks like she has pole up her ass” walk to the door, unlock the door, and scurry step to the little half bath…. I AM GOING TO MAKE IT!!!!!!!!!  

I sit and in that moment of pure, unadulterated joy, I unclench every muscle in my body to let the sweet release happen in a cacophony of joy and….     WHATTHEFUCK IS THAT AWFUL POPPING SOUND AND PAIN RIGHT BELOW MY LEFT BOOB??? OHMYGOD I’M GOING TO HAVE TO CALL THE AMBULANCE AND I CANT GET OFF THE TOILET…. OHMYGOD…. IS THAT SMELL FROM ME….. OHNO…. CAN I WIPE MY JUDAS TREASONOUS ASS BEFORE THE AMUBULANCE GETS HERE????  HOW CAN I KEEP THIS SECRET FROM THE WIFE SO THIS ISN’T TOLD AT THE NEXT FAMILY EVENT.??????   WHY IS THE DOG TRYING TO PUT HER HEAD IN MY LAP????  BAD DOG BAD DOG!!!!   OK, the pain is subsiding a little bit….   nothing is sticking out…  I can move a bit….  

And, eventually, I was able to leave the bathroom with a modicum of dignity, if not an intact rib.  And that, is how one should never underestimate the power of poop.