Most people know that Elvis had his heart attack while sitting, straining, on the toilet. Not a pleasant way to go. The story was that all that prescription medication and fast food caught up with him and “bound him up”.
Well, today I find myself relating to Elvis. Turns out the pain meds I was on for my “procedure” have a “binding” side effect. I would have known that if I had read the small encyclopedia that was attached to the bottle. But I didn’t and now I am.
Unlike Elvis, I have a myriad of choices on how to resolve this – none of them appealing. All of them involve a conversation with either a pharmacist or a doctor to describe my dilemma, not something I look forward to.
When I was about 11 years old my cat had kittens and she was too young a mom to care for them. Two died within hours but the other one we fed a combination of baby formula and liquid vitamins and it appeared to thrive. There was just one little detail we overlooked that a mom cat would know how to deal with – elimination. After 3 days, poor little Higginbotham exploded.
I woke up about 3 this morning in a flop sweat with a vision of me as Higginbotham – a giant ball with a head and hands and feet, about to pop.
So today will be spent listening to Elvis music, drinking plenty of fluids and doing whatever I’m told to do to resolve this “crisis”. Hark! I think I hear some lyrics now - “A little less conversation, a little more ACTION please…”
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