So I'm going to cut right to it. I faced my biggest fear [slash] worst nightmare last night. My husband had me come along to visit with some old friends. Before leaving I told him my stomach was feeling off. So there I am, at someone else's house, feeling like hell was being shoved through my intestines. I was dizzy, hot and was going between nausia -- which I have no idea how to spell -- and stomach cramps. I thought I'd use the restroom to go pee and relieve some pressure in that stomach region. Well my body had other plans and next thing I know, I have no control, I am panicking and going between running the faucet, flushing multiple times and spraying febreeze down between my legs into the toilet. You know, just in case.
It was hell. and it was an absolute first. I have never (forgive my absolute shame and immaturity) gone #2 in someone elses house. Seriously. It's just something I don't do. It's like...against my morals or something. It's a horrible thing, that though we all do it, we don't want it to be acknowledged.
So there I was, the deed was done and I felt like i usually do after an hour long hike. Exhausted. And then it hit me, the four of them are right outside this door. I dont know if they heard the incident that just occurred--the flushing and water running. I dont know if they are wondering why i had been in there for over 3 minutes. I dont know if my panic was apparent. So, in my quick thinking, I brilliantly pulled out my phone, walked out of the bathroom pretending to talk on it....because, oh of course, thats why I was in there for so long, I was talking on the phone, in the bathroom, right....and then smiled at everyone and pointed at my phone and walked outside in that sort of "sorry, i've got to take this call" kind of way. Immediately there after I did actually called my mom, relived my horror and, because I am my mother's daughter, she fully sympathized with how horrible it is to have to be in that position. Thanks mom, you sure know how to make a shitty experience better, pun very much intended. We chatted about life and work and poop for about 15 minutes and then I knew I had to re-enter the house. I came in smiley and happy, because I seriously was feeling so much better on the physical side and saying "oh my mom says hi!" even though, she really only knows james, but that always seems to make up for abandoning a social gathering for 20 minutes if you come back with a message like, "oh she says hi!"
People are getting ready to leave and I whisper to my husband "go to the bathroom before anyone else." He, fully oblivious to what had happened, says "I dont have to go, I'm all good." Until I look at him and say "I was in there last, please go make sure the area is clear and all evidence has dissapeared." And so he did, he said everything was fine. My husband, my hero. And then we left and I told him the whole story and he felt bad, saying that when I said my stomach didnt feel well, he just thought i was "airy" and fully reassured me that no one had a clue. I love being married.