This morning, I just needed to go diarrhea and not have two little midgets fighting and ripping the doorknob out of the door to get in. I needed to focus on the diarrhea and the heat that was rising up my torso. The burn in my stomach. The accompanying nausea. To not be able to go diarrhea in peace anymore, it's just not a good turn of events. I couldn't really put it off or hold it until I had some help. When you have to go, you have to go. And then after banging at my door incessantly, while I suffered, for about four minutes. I began to hear them throw toys around...grab for things to high for them. Make a mess. Fight with each other. And then, that was almost worse because someone losing an eye while I had diarrhea would also be a poor direction for the day to take.
How do you explain that to the ER? I left my three children under the age of four to kill each other because I did not want a pool of poop on my floor that belonged to me instead of them.
I haven't been well since Sunday and I am not pleased.
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