Once again, I'm grimacing on the edge of my toilet seat trying to empty the waste trapped in me. For two weeks, I've taken four different medications: two for pain, hydrocodone and morphine, the other two, aspirin and an NSAID; I must take them with food. I push out as hard as I can, hoping to produce a bowel. I look in the toilet bowl: no stool. I can feel my swollen rectum, it’s still stuck in there. Shit, I just want to take a fucking shit! I force my intestines to contract. Like a pregnant woman in labor, I push. Then I push again, crunching my stomach as if I was in Aerobics class. I push again, pressing my pelvis downward pressing my waist in my knees.. I squeeze my intestines, nothing comes out. Instead, last nights beans and salad shoots up my twisted pipe. Pain jabs my side rippling across my bladder. I’m in the ring, facing Mayweather, my pulse jumps side to side, trying to doge the stirke. My rectum collapses as a final blow knocks the wind out of me. I’m so tired. Will this be my life forever? In the last week, I have ripped through five rolls of toilet paper. I’m ashamed to tell you what I do with it. My bathroom stay has extended to two hours a day. I sit on the toilet and wrestle. When I'm not on the toilet, I lie on the couch watching Law and Order over and over again. My Ipad sits on the cold floor, displaying my newsfeed from Facebook. The money raised on GOFUNDME sits at $500.00; I need to go viral. I noticed the floor is dirty, the sediments stick to my heels. A glass of water sits on the counter filled with Miralax, next to my tooth brush. I hate that stuff, I really do. When it is bad, sometimes I bleed, passing a bowel movement is so difficult for me now. I grunt out, yelling as if I’m that show off at the gym. Those jerks. As a child, my mother would put soap up my butt while I cried screaming, “it burns.” Last night, I tired the soap.....

My doctor tells me to eat, but I’m not hungry. Chemo makes you tired you know. I’m sick of life. I shouldn’t say that; I’m so weak I can’t pass stool. What kind of man am I? I shifted on the toilet preparing myself for another push. I laugh. How the hell do I take laxatives and stimulants and I still cannot go. I called Ed the other day, my pharmacist down town, he suggested I take Senna S. I can't wait till it kicks in. My intestines grumbles. Like me, its bracing itself. God, please kill me. I take a low breath preparing for the biggest push of the night. Okay. I will start counting. My nose flares, my hands began to shake…. 1, I let out another breath …2, I sink my teeth in my bottom lip … I pause. 3, Push! Heave! Squeeze! A steam of gas comes out of my frail body. The balloon in my stomach deflates. A faint smell of vinegar steams up the toliet bowel. I spread my bony legs and peeped at the water, what sat at the mouth of the toilet was a small stone and traces of blood. I buried my face in my hands and cry.