Content warning: A lot of poop jokes. Last week, I had my second-ever surgery. The results of this surgery were surprising and in some ways frustrating, but I'm going to get to that in a later blog post after I've had a chance to attend all my post-op appointments and come up with a new treatment plan with my doctors. Today I have a real treat for you folks. See, before this surgery, it was revealed to me that I would have to do a bowel prep so that in case there was any need to operate on my bowel, they could do so safely. This is a reasonable request. However, I have never been fond of shitting myself, and so I tried to google what the effects of the 10 ounces of Magnesium Citrate laxative that I was ordered to drink were likely to be. This was a less fruitful search than I had hoped for. Aside from chipper assurances that a bowel movement would be produced in 0.5 to 6 hours and recommendations to "have access to a toilet" (and a few tales that made vague statements about horrors to come), I found no real information about what to expect. After my experience, I walk away with a new resolve: the people need to know. They shall tremble in darkness no longer. The bright light of the truth shall be cast upon them, and they shall bask in the warm rays of knowledge. The consequences of consuming the forbidden fruit of cherry-flavored magnesium citrate shall be trumpeted far and wide, and all shall be glad.
After a long battle with diarrhea, Grace succumbed. The starry vault was then torn asunder, and she ascended directly into heaven.
JUST KIDDING. Turns out Magnesium Citrate is a one-way ticket to hell.
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Grace Daly
I'm young, hot, and have multiple chronic illnesses. Come with me on this magical fucking journey. Archives
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