An Old Foreign Movie Finds Me Cured

Since the latter afternoon yesterday, I have lost count of how many bowel movements I have had ─ certainly over a dozen, and maybe nearer 20 (if not even more). The urge presents itself, I sit, and a torrent of mostly liquid quickly issues forth.

I hardly ever pee ─ the little liquid that I intake is issued out my rectum.

My only hope for reprieve has been being in bed and seeking to 'hibernate' or drift off into sleep. The body's processes slow right down. But when I am awake, I have been hitting the toilet in anywhere from 15 to 40 minutes after the last visit.

Yesterday I pretty much called it a night around 8 p.m., as had my wife. Fortunately, she is no longer beset with these 'runs'. Otherwise, it would have been an ordeal last night to have competition for the bathroom.

Normally Sunday evenings find me watching shows with my younger brother once he is home from his daily social drinking, but that was not going to happen yesterday. I was feeling overall feverish, my body with an almost tingling of fever. Had I tried to watch any shows, I would never have been able to sit through an entire episode, and would lose as many as 10 minutes with another toilet visit.

Sometimes I would luck out and fall asleep overnight, gaining 1½ or more hours of sleep in which there was no urge to empty the noxious sludgy accumulation that had worked its way towards the exit. But once that block of sleep ended, the toilet routine re-commenced. There were times I hated to get up because I was so groggy and near sleep. I would empty out, and then return to bed and nearly get to sleep when another urge for the toilet set in.

I haven't a clue where all the debris is coming from that shows up in that watery sludge. I only had one meal Saturday evening, and another Sunday evening that was just a slight amount of a sort of chicken noodle soup. I've had more of that soup midday today.

I managed to spend 12 hours in bed overnight, if one overlooks the dozen times I rose to use the toilet.

When I rose this morning around 8:30 a.m., my younger brother was watching T.V., so just past 9 a.m. I joined him, expecting that we would try watching our usual fare via our Android TV Box.

But he was watching all sorts of special interviews with Liberal politicians and political analysts because that corrupt 🆃🆄🆁🅳(eau) in Ottawa supposedly resigned, although he is in no rush to actually surrender the reins.

This is no solution to Canada's ills. This is no democracy ─ how can it be democracy when the government in power is going to remain in power and choose Canada's Prime Minister themselves instead of allowing the Canadian people to make their choice?

Yes, we want the 🆃🆄🆁🅳(eau) gone, but we want the entire government gone with him!

Begone all of you!!!

I joined my brother, as said; but when he kept subjecting me to these pointless interviews, I gave up and came back upstairs to my bedroom with the cup of coffee I had prepared. My wife had emerged by then from her bedroom to begin readying for a full workday at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time.

When she was set to leave, she enquired of me as to how I was feeling. I wasn't quite as overall feverish, but still frequenting the toilet.

I suppose that she was away just past 10 a.m. as is typical when she has a full workday.

Soon, I just returned to bed. I am sure my brother regretted his choice of viewing, for the special reporting ended and he was left with the banal fare available with the basic cable package that we have access to. But I was annoyed ─ he so often seems oblivious. CTV, Global, CBC ─ they tell nothing but propaganda and lies.

I managed to fall asleep, and never roused until at least 12:45 p.m. My sense of feverishness had reduced, but the toilet visits were still unavoidable.

At 2:48 p.m. my wife phoned me to report that she had forgotten to tell me that she had a bottle of "pink stuff" in her bedroom that would be useful for the diarrhea. As I suspected, it was Life Brand Bismuth Subsalicylate Suspension ─ or at least, I expected Pepto-Bismol, but this is Life Brand's version.

I did take two teaspoons of the stuff, but I am not keen on trying to keep this up every two hours.

She even texted me a photo of a product called Hydralyte that she had just bought ─ it's a version of something called Pedialyte.

The bursts of liquified diarrhea are not completely irrepressible, as long as I do not fool myself into thinking that I am only needing to pass wind (I made that mistake just once). And when I seat myself to let go, such a deluge emanates that it really does seem like I am urinating out of my butt. There is absolutely no physical discomfort in the sense of painful cramping or burning of the anus. I just have this periodic need to expel a lot of fluid out of my butt ─ plain and simple.

But it is annoying. Obviously I cannot go anywhere. And the ingestion of fluids seems to increase this toilet need ─ that was another reason I did not care to watch shows with my brother last evening. What would, say, two cans of beer bring on? Likely I would have needed to excrete the fluid via my butt with even more frequency, drastically reducing my ability to watch anything on T.V.

In view of this, I do not plan to sit up this evening trying to watch shows with my brother. Better I give it another day to best give the liquid diarrhetic problem time to resolve.

♥♥♥♥♥

It is now approaching mid-evening and I have just recently finished watching 1952's English-subtitled Umberto D. I watched it on my own because my brother cannot clearly read subtitles, but I believe he would have enjoyed this old movie.

However, I found myself feeling deeply critical of main character Umberto. Unable to house and properly care for himself and his little dog Flike, but never fully able to abandon the hampering little dog, near the conclusion of the movie Umberto attempts what the most despicable of despairing people do when they decide to kill themselves ─ that is, they decide to take loved ones with them. Many a parent has done this to kids ─ in the parent's depressed way of thinking, the child or children will be better off dead. Somehow, the demented parent believes that since he or she is hopelessly miserable, there is no way for the child or children to be happy in life either.

Could anything be more abominably selfish?!

If interested, my source for the nearly 1½-hour (1:28:46) movie was this one published January 18, 2024, at BitChute's Adaneth_TV channel: Umberto D. by Vittorio De Sica (Film 1952).

It was an enjoyable film; I just did not care that the title character considered destroying his little dog just because it was going to have to live life without its selfish owner. However, maybe Umberto would never have remotely considered such a thing if his ward had instead been a little girl or boy.

What was novel for me today is that I watched the movie without any requirement for a toilet visit! Definitely, I am past this malady's grip.

And now I am rather torn about whether or not to sit up to watch shows with my brother. It might be wiser to get to bed relatively early so that I can get out in the dark a.m. to have some exercise at the elementary school playground maybe three blocks from here. As may well be expected, I was far too ailing to be getting any exercise since this probable food poisoning seized me very early Saturday evening.

Yesterday I mentioned my disappointment in discovering that my naked weight had remained the same that day as it had been Saturday late in the afternoon when I was approaching the finish of my Sabbath fast: possibly as much as 178 pounds. I had believed that after 24 hours of illness, I might have dropped down to as little as 175 pounds.

This morning I happened to chance a weigh-in while attired in my undershorts, since I was cleaning up after one of my toilet visits: at very most, I might have been 176 pounds. So that was something at least.

I am feeling stronger now ─ that is, back to what is my normal. My sense of fever is gone. Consequently, I see no need to take a second helping of the bismuth subsalicylate suspension.

Heck, maybe I will sit up this evening. Two or three beers will give my diarrhea recovery a top drawer test, won't they? It is just past 9 p.m. and on speculation I visited the toilet to relieve myself of anything that might be awaiting passage, but being patient about it. Nothing! Some flatus, but no more! I am healed!