First, there is nothing about this problem consistent with personal dignity, even when one lives utterly alone.
Second, as of the writing of this blog post, things are quiescent this morning for the first time since midnight this past Thursday night/Friday morning.
More of the same. A hell of a lot more of the same. Including the return of the truly violent gas. Which meant when the stool from yesterday's modest food intake finally turned up at the back gates around 1 am, (as opposed to the trace bits and water I'd been passing all day and all evening) I felt like I was shitting casino dice fired from an air gun. In 47 years of life, I've never had a bowel movement like that. I was materially worried about tissue damage, and things do in fact ache abominably down there this morning.
I slept fitfully, with frequent interruptions, from 9:30 to midnight or so, was up continuously from midnight til sometime after 1:30 am with the worst of it, and seemed to have managed to sleep roughly 1:30 to 5. This means I haven't had a good night's sleep since last Wednesday night, which is materially impacting not only my ability to write but my ability to function in general. And I'm literally two or three days from putting a wrap on Kalimpura, instead trapped inside my bowels like Raquel Welch gone horribly awry in Fantastic Voyage.
As mentioned above, things are quiescent this morning. If they fire up again, I'm calling in for a clinic appointment. Not sure how I'm going to manage Day Jobbery today, or if I'll need to take a sick day (like I'm not using those at a prodigious rate already on chemo).
The worst fear, the one that has me starkly terrified, is that this is the new normal, and I'll have to go through this experience every other week through the next six chemotherapy cycles.