Let me start up by saying constipation sucks. because my diet is all over the place and in no way consistent, I've dealt with it before, however after 6 days I realized this was not the standard sit it out and be patient ordeal. I ended up going to the hospital, the pain in my abdomen was just way too much to take, and it turns out I had an "impacted bowel". Essentially the plugged up fecal matter turned into granite within the confines of my anus, and was preventing the softer, more malleable content from escaping. Essentially every 5 minutes I was crippled by the feeling of trying to push out a watermelon. The poor nurse gave me a suppository, which failed, a fleet enema, which failed, and a gravity fed salt enema, which failed and burned like a motherfucker. Defeated, I hobbled out of the hospital with a prescription for a jug of "lactuose" with very strict instructions to not take more than 4 table spoons a day. 3 days later, and still unable to sit upright without crying like a little bitch, I got fed up and downed half the bottle. I felt it move, my god my victory is assured! I ran to the bathroom, paper in hand, halfway through a story about legalization or marijuana I felt a burst, and I mean a burst as in a super nova explosion. You could hear the ricochet off the porcelain, or rather you would have if I was not screaming in tongues. According to witnesses, it sounded as if Chewbacca was being slowly killed with a blow torch. If that was the extent of the story I wouldn't feel it worth sharing, however there was still a mass in there, clearly forged in the depths of Mt. Doom. I braced my feet against the wall, my veins in my forehead popping, to the few here I've had conversations with, you'll know I have a rather blue collar style of speech, cussing is something that's part of every sentence, I was raised by a trucker after all. Well what spewed from my mouth was nearly as foul as what was flowing from my anal cavity. I screamed every cuss loud as church bells. When it was all over, I was drenched with sweat, huffing and puffing, and sobbing slightly. I felt as if someone took a jackhammer to my asshole. There I stayed for another twenty minutes, partly because clean up was not a two wipe process, and partly because I wasn't sure if I shit out my skeleton or not. That's when I heard the authoritative knock that I know to well, the fuzz were at my door. Considering I was bed ridden for a week, I was sure I didn't do anything to upset the law. I wrapped a towel around my waist, and stumbled to the door. Greeted by captain super serious, with his gigantic ass aviators. he looked genuinely concerned over my shambled appearance and pale face. My neighbor had phoned the police regarding my cussing. (She's a cunt, twice petitioned to have my dog put down, destroyed my fence, covered my mustang in concrete dust), anyways, the officer asked me outside, in the rain, my legs still wobly, and wrapped only in a towel, to be confronted by Mr. Aviators and the land whale that is my next door neighbor. After being confronted by her about my "brutish" behavior, and having to take a field sobriety test to prove I was actually suffering from a traumatic bowel movement and not "high on the street drugs." The officer seemed intent on issuing me a citation for "disturbance of the peace", or he was until during the field sobriety test I had to stand on on leg and hop. Apparently not all was flushed out of my system, and there on my driveway, in front of my neighbor, a mud monkey slid out and plopped onto the driveway. At that moment the officer believed me to be telling the truth, and my neighbor having already left in disgust, was left without victory. The moral of the story, eat your fucking bran, sweet zombie jesus was this the worst experience of my life by far. And while we're at it, anyone know of any delicious recipes I can make to help? I know flax seed, and other tidbits I can use, but this shit is so god damn bland.