"Where did Jack go?" "Bathroom" "Of course"
I've decided to dedicate this post to my relationship with bathrooms. We have a special bond, me and the water closet. It's difficult for me to go nearly anywhere new and not become acquainted with their facilities.
For me, the bathroom is a sanctuary, somewhere where I go to relieve myself of horrible pain. I almost always feel better walking out than I do walking in. It's a place where it's just me, and my Crohn's. It's like our together time. A time where I can just be mad at it, mad at my body, mad at my life. Where I can pray to God to smite me or at least knock me out until the pain passes. I spend more time in the bathroom than anyone else I know. I go up to 12 times a day and can stay in there for up to 20 minutes at a time. THAT'S A LOT OF TIME TO SPEND IN THE LOO!
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| OH BAYBEH |
Without fail, if I disappear, I have gone to the bathroom. Hey, at least I'm easy to find!
My favourite bathrooms are in fancy restaurants and hotels. They're just the nicest and cleanest, sometimes having special soaps, lotions and perfumes or real towels to dry your hands with.
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| I'll take it! |
But in a pinch, a dirty, grimy, hasn't-been-cleaned-or-maintained-in-8-years toilet can look like a gold encrusted throne to me.
The relief I feel when I get into a bathroom is indescribable.
I made it! I think to myself. It's like a victory every time.
So I've painted a pretty picture of what a bathroom is to me, and all of it is true, it's just not the whole truth.
The other half of my relationships with bathrooms is that it's my imprisoned battleground. I always have to be near one. It's like a weird form of house arrest where moving between safe checkpoints is a nerve wracking and dangerous experience. Except instead of an ankle alarm sounding, my anxiety kicks up and nothing is enjoyable until I'm back in an acceptable radius of a restroom.
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| A bit hyperbolic, but accurate metaphor |
And then there is the experience of actually using the bathroom. For me, this means my worst pain. I always feel relieved when I get into a bathroom because it means I made it, but then I have to put my war face on and engage in open fire. (TMI?)
The pain is so bad that I almost throw up frequently, pray for mercy, and have a difficult time keeping from screaming in pain. Not to mention that in most public washrooms the loo paper is cheap, that the wiping is rough and unpleasant.
When I feel the pain coming on, I also feel the dread No, please no. It's only been 45 minutes. I don't want to go back in there. No. It's going to hurt. No. Please no.
And if I forget my iPhone? I don't even want to think about that!
