WARNING! Never search Poop Box on Urban Dictionary, because it’ll come up with this nonsense definiton, “A less vulgar word to describe a woman’s shit hole.” Although, it’s on the right track, it’s not exactly my definition. My definition of a poop box is a life saving container of some sort that is full of goodies that you keep in your car, which will can come in handy in case you have a massive diarrhea explosion! So, since I’m terrified of pooping myself in my car, (which I have by the way, other stories to come) I’ve created this box that is a constant reminder to myself that “if you shit yourself, you shit yourself. You won’t die and you have your handy dandy poop box if needed.” Something as simple as this, has semi eased my anxiety when I’m in the car. I have come to terms that IBS is a lifestyle that I am going to be living with for the entirety of my life.
Earlier this year, I had an appointment with a gastroenterologist at OHSU here in Portland, OR. They are a known for their highly renowned facility, with exceptional doctors. I thought that after seeing countless physicians in the past, this doctor would finally be able to help me. I waited six months for my appointment, and I felt completely hopeless at the end of those thirty minutes in the exam room. He declined doing any additional testing, even though I haven’t had any in more than four years and the recommendation that I received after my appointment was to “wear diapers, and take Imodium.” I was starting to believe all the people who have told me I was a hypochondriac, maybe I am one? Then I thought, there’s no way I would make this up in my head, there’s no way I choose to go through all this, because I would NEVER wish this upon my worst enemy. My mom and I cried on the drive home, and after hours of frustration and hopelessness, I thought to myself “well, I better just take his advice, and do something productive with it.” That is how the Poop Box idea was formed!
I know you all are dying to know what I have in my poop box right?!
Contents: Wipes, water, toilet paper, a towel, undies, leggings, Imodium, hand sanitizer, garbage bags and don’t forget DIAPERS!
Yes, I totally have had to wear diapers. It’s so awesome when you are wearing a diaper at a Beyoncé concert in Seattle, WA. But my shit has no agenda, and can hit at any time it pleases, so better be safe than sorry right?! I commend my friend Zach, for making sure my diaper line wasn’t showing through my jeans, listening to see if it was making any weird noises, laughing WITH me, and treating me as a completely normal 25 year old. If all it takes is wearing a diaper for me to have less anxiety and enjoy the moment, then so be it!
I also admire my cousin Sarah for dealing with me on a five hour road trip to the Painted Hills in Oregon, where I was also wearing a diaper! She deals with my constant anxiety ridden freak outs, and calms me down like no one else can. People like her in my life, make it possible for me to feel like a normal person.
I have so many stories to tell, and so many more people to thank in my life! This is just the beginning! Thanks to everyone who is supporting my blog and reading it! Will write more soon. If you have poop problems, MAKE A POOP BOX! XOXO