This unfortunate phrase was brought about by an email from our Head Manager. In it, he bitched us out for backing out of frat trips at the last second because it causes all sorts of terrible logistic things to happen. The exact phrase he used is kind of fuzzy at this point, but it went something like this:
"You should not back out of frat trips unless you are really sick. Things that you can back out of trips for: you are broken, excessive vomiting, and uncontrollable shitting."
Except it's only funny when you've never experienced uncontrollable shitting.
I worked at an overnight summer camp here at Prestigious University for a month last summer. I was desperate (having been turned down for a lot of internships) and the pay was $1500 for 4 weeks, which is pretty damn good. Beggars can't be choosers and I have to pay Penelope's car payment. The job itself is an entire other story but here's what happened before I even started.
I was supposed to start my job on Sunday. The kids (ages 13-16) were arriving on Sunday around 2pm. Saturday afternoon I started feeling sick. Having had a fish patty for brunch at the dining hall earlier that morning, I immediately assumed it was food poisoning. My day off ended up being spent curled up on my bed in the fetal position feeling nauseated as hell with a raging headache. Vomit occurred that night. I didn't have a thermometer at my disposal (I was living in a dorm) but my chills were so bad I figured I probably had a fever.
Sunday I felt a bit better and managed to make our Staff Meeting. Ten minutes in I turned a bit green and hurriedly excused myself. Thankfully I made it back to my room before I barfed again. Thats also when the diarrhea started. It was a terrible two days. The worst part was calling my boss at the time, Babs, and explaining the situation to her. She just told me to take it easy and avoid the kids. It was super awkward.
I stopped eating because I was just throwing it all up and/or shitting it out. Nothing I took helped: Immodium, Pepto Bismol, Advil, etc. I called home and asked my Mom, who was a pharmacist for 10 years, for more advice. Her advice was to just drink Gatorade.
On Monday I went to the Clinic. I really didn't have much choice. I was dehydrated, miserable, running to the toilet every half hour, and not really able to do much of anything. Now, as a sidenote, the Clinic has screwed me over several times. I've gone in insisting that I have a sinus infection, and they've sent me home with directions to take Advil and drink liquids. And then I end up back there a week later with not only a sinus infection, but double pink eye (the sinus infection just spreads to my eyes) and bronchitus. The second time this happened I ended up with pneumonia. So really, I don't have much confidence in the abilities of said Clinic.
So thus began my four-hour trail in the Clinic. I went in, and immediately the front desk lady makes me put on the face mask. Ok now, I understand the mask is to prevent the spread of sickness to others. But really, I'm not sneezing, spitting, coughing, or exploding bodily fluids out my face. It is all coming out the other goddamn end. I don't think they make ass masks and if they do they don't hand them out at the Clinic. I'm pretty sure that's what a diaper is anyway.
So I go upstairs and wait. There were obnoxious little wrestlers in training everywhere from the Prestigious University sports camps. Pretty much all of them had staph and were pissed off little grelims because they couldn't wrestle for several weeks. Finally, I get called back, recount the horrors my body has been putting me through, and look quite pathetic in general. The 'nurse practitioner' schedules me some tests.
I hate peeing in cups. If I had proper peeing-in-cups equipment (ahem, penis) it wouldn't be so bad. Vaginas were never meant to pee in cups. Of course, I accidentally pee all over my hand. EW. Following my date with a toilet, I had to get blood taken.
Generally my veins are practically busting out my arms, but I was so dehydrated from sending it all out the tailpipe that Nurse Bloodtaker couldn't find a vein. I had I had to chug 3 bottles of water and run up and down the hallway because I was so cold. Even still, she attempted to suck my blood out of both arms before she gave up and used a pediatric needle.
They told me they would send the results to me the next day. I walked back to the dorm feeling like shit (no pun intended) and looking like some sort of heroin addict.
All of the tests they did came back normal. And even though I had gotten rid of the chills, nausea, and headache, my personal basement continued to flood. Also, my stomach kept cramping up in its own terrible all-encompassing version of mega-peristalsis. I called Babs, who is getting a little crazy on me. She even went so far as to strongly suggest that I go home and then come back to work when I was better. Really Babs? I live six freaking hours away and you want me to go home?? Penelope wasn't with me, so that would have meant that one of parentals would have had to drive up and back 12 hours to get me, and then repeat the process several days later. Yeah, because they would be so thrilled at that prospect. It took some clever bullshit to fend her off, but I made up a bunch of excuses and faked feeling better enough so she eventually dropped the topic.
Clinic had told me that I wasn't contagious and that I could go back to work when I felt better. I started on Wednesday. The remainder of the week consisted of frequent and repeated trips to the water closet, intense stomach cramps, as well as a diet of applesauce, Gatorade, and bagels. Week 1 (of my job) was a miserable miserable time. I lost over 10 pounds. It got to the point where I started to forget what a solid poop felt like, because it was all liquid. Ick.
Following Sunday: feeling OK but still frequenting the bathroom. I decided to break out the big guns: I take the bus to the Super Clinic hosted by the hospital. My spiel delivered, they decide (like the brainiacs they are) to take a stool sample. Duh. I mean, that was the basis of my problem on the first hospital visit. I have no idea why Clinic ordered every test but that when it was one of my major symptoms. Sometimes people are stupid. Peeing in a cup is bad, but defecating in a glorified training potty is just demoralizing. So is having to pour it yourself into several different vials. Probably one of the grossest things I've done.
Even after all those tests, they never really figured out what was wrong. Super Clinic doctor just told me it was probably just a stomach bug that needed to work itself out.
But anyway, it was gross. The only thing that even rivals it was the Slurpee Incident of summer '09. But that's another story. Anyway, my point is that now I can actually say that I've Uncontrollably Shitted and it is muy bueno. Definitely a worthy excuse for missing a frat trip.
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