On behalf of the Patient Advisory Council, we would like to introduce you to Josh. Josh is going to be sharing some comics/animation as his schedule allows, and we are very excited that he has forwarded us his first comic (and a link to an amazing video he created). Enjoy!

Sami + Jennie

Hi! I'm Josh Weisbrod, an animator and comic artist. Currently I'm an MFA candidate in USC's animation program.

Last year I made an animated film about my diagnosis with Crohn's disease (available to view at https://vimeo.com/81004804). But there were an arduous several years leading up to my colonoscopy in Medical Adventure Power!! Here is the story of the horrible Hamburger Helper meals and frequent trips to the bathroom that led me to the first of my (now 7) colonoscopies:

Sounds like the opening of a joke, doesn't it?

It's not. I'm going to start with a brief interlude in which I brag about my kids.  I will end with the tale of a bathroom.

Tinkerbell, Jedediah and Elly Mae each have some talent.  Tink and Elly Mae each dance. Jedediah woke up one morning and wanted to act, and he's got some chops.

Sela and I, together, have five left feet.  The only person I know who has a voice worse than Sela does is me.  So where they get this talent, we don't know.

In the last week, we've been to a recital for Elly Mae's dance team, an awards banquet for Tink's dance team and several performances of Jed's play.

Sela and I are extremely proud of each of them.  They selected activities that were important to them, and they worked HARD and practiced.  A lot.  There are few things that have given me as much joy as a parent as seeing them get excited about an activity that they chose, as opposed to the requisite soccer, etc. that every kid is forced to try.

We'll talk about Tinkerbell's foray into horseback riding in some post in the future.  No idea what that was all about.

As Buzz once said (and I'm paraphrasing), "To the bathroom, AND BEYOND!"

Jed's play was at the Junior High School.  Which is convenient because Jed's a junior high student.

Being at the Junior High School necessitates going to the bathroom in a junior high school bathroom.

With me so far?

It shouldn't surprise you to learn that boy's junior high school bathrooms smell like junior high school boys.  So I was put in a foul humor upon entering.

I'm also fairly convinced that the first casualty of school budget cuts was functional toilet paper.  This stuff was the worst of the industrial bad.  Wow.  It was so bad that my butt audibly complained.  Seriously.

Despite all of that, the worst part was the sink design.  Picture this.  Two side-by-side sinks.  Not a problem. Where were the soap and paper towel dispensers?  To the left of the sink on the left, of course.  You couldn't get to them from the sink on the right.  You might as well have had one sink since only one was usable at one time.

Don't give me any complaints about space constraints.  There were options.  A myriad of options.  Between the sinks for the soap dispenser?  Anyone?  Anyone?

At least I only had to use the thing a few times.  Jed's gotta use it all the time.

I’m having one of those days (following one of those nights). 

A “my no colon no feels good” kind of night and day.  Those of you with IBD and more complete insides know what I'm talking about, too.

I won’t bore you with the gory details. They’re gory. Kind of like the stomach flu (one way traffic—down only) on steroids.

It does present a conundrum, however, and this is something that I’ve pondered for over 15 years.

Is this really a “my no colon no feels good” thing? You know, something special to people with my constitution? Or, is this a garden variety bug or “I ate something that didn’t agree with me” thing? Something that affects even the commoners?

Allow me to get philosophical for a moment. I figure I’m actually getting “biological,” as opposed to “philosophical,” but I also figure that any person can strive to say something philosophical without sounding like a total idiot, but when the same person tries to say something grounded in actual science, well, he/she could be wrong and actually sound moronic.

I’m thinking that taking the colon out of the equation screws up the equilibrium from mouth to anus, so to speak. Messes with the order of things, you might say. Leading me to this question: 

Excluding pouchitis (clearly a no colon phenomena), would someone with no colon experience the same intestinal issues under the same conditions and the same diet as someone with a colon? In other words, is the “my no colon no feels good” situation a function of my “no colon” or just “no feels good”?

Let me insert some real life data:

1. FACT: I haven’t vomited since Day 3 after my second surgery (despite my system’s best efforts following the Epcot Center “Mission Space” Incident of 2005).

1. FACT: I haven’t had the stomach flu since I became no colon.

1. FACT: I have never suffered from constipation since I became no colon.

1. FACT: I sometimes wear white socks with dark shoes and dark socks with white shoes, being forced to suffer endless ridicule from Sela, Tinkerbell and Elly Mae (Jed just shakes his head).

Why am I asking? Because if my “no colon no feels good” is just your regular, run of the mill bug or “I ate something that didn’t agree with me” thing, “traditional” “medicine” (like how I used separate quotation marks?) like Pepto Bismol, Alka Seltzer, antacids, etc. should make me feel better, right?

But if this is some foreign situation, an affliction for which there is virtually no market (who is going to spend billions and billions to design a medication for the “no colon no feels good”?), then I am, well, out of luck

Feel free to comment or email me with your concern over my condition (he said in a shameless grab for sympathy).

An Alcatraz Bathroom Installment:

Before I begin, I share with you the following from the fountain of all knowledge, THE WIKIPEDIA, regarding a particularly horrifying story published by Stephen King in his fifth short story collection, “Just After Sunset.” The story is called, “A Very Tight Place.”

"Curtis Johnson . . . is lured to a deserted construction site by his neighbor, Tim Grunwald, with whom he's been having a legal dispute involving Curtis's beloved dog, Betsy, who was killed by Tim's electric fences. He is confronted by Tim who forces him into a Port-O-San, tips it over and leaves him trapped there in the heat of a Florida summer day to die. With no way to get help, Curtis must figure out how to escape or die.”

Can you think of anything more disturbing? Being tipped over in a port-o-potty, on a hot day, and being literally consumed by “what’s down there”? I think about this EVERY time I use a port-o-potty.  By the way, I’m not going to spoil how the story ends. If you just can’t go on without my giving away the ending, I must quote two great modern characters from the classic film, “The Princess Bride,” which recently celebrated its 25th anniversary:

Inigo Montoya: I must know.

Westley: Get used to disappointment.

Let’s be honest, shall we? We’ve all been there. You gotta go, but the only option is a nasty-looking port-o-potty. (Also from THE WIKIPEDIA. The following names for these gizmos that I have been referring to, and will continue to refer to, as a “port-o-potty” (even though I REALLY like the last one): P-Pot, Porta-John, PortaJane, Port-O-Let, Port-a-Loo, Portaloo, Porta-Potty, Tidy John, Kybo, Biffs, Standard Porta Potty Restrooms and Toi-Toi).

A problem unique to port-o-potties is that I find that there’s no, absolutely zero, thought for the next user. “Hey, this thing is already SO NASTY. I’m not going to spend two seconds wiping my feces off the seat for the next person. That next dude isn’t expecting a positive experience.”

I cannot express the level of nausea that I am currently experiencing just thinking about this. I could barf right here at my desk. Which would be bad. I’m taking deep breaths to calm the lightheadedness. Also small sips of Diet Coke.

Unlike other Alcatraz Bathrooms, upon entering you really have no choice but to do something with the seat. I don’t usually see the option of a toilet seat cover, so you’re relegated to using TP. I have found the TP dispensers in port-o-potties to be of the sub-standard, high-friction variety. You know what I mean. You can’t grab off a long piece easily. In fact, you have to slowly pull (or pull and turn) so as not to break off a piece that is utterly useless for your purposes. Did I mention that, if you’re in this situation at all, you gotta go? This preparation takes time, people. TIME YOU MAY NOT HAVE.

Fact is that many of us have no choice. In fact, WE SEE THE PRESENCE OF A PORT-O-POTTY AS A BIT OF A SAVIOR. Isn’t that sad but true.

I’ve never been a fan of toilet seat covers. This goes back to my earliest experiences. You know the flap that hangs over the ledge in the front that, I guess, is supposed to protect your equipment from the Petri dish of germs in and around the toilet? I always thought that part went in the BACK instead of the FRONT. Why? Because my experiences with poop consistency (consistency as in “firmness” not “uniformity”) and my poop blowing all over the place, I thought that the flap was an attempt to protect the integrity of the bowl. I was also young, naïve and stupid.

I generally do not use toilet seat covers. In the nastiest of Alcatraz Bathrooms, my procedures are as follows. First, I wipe the seat with TP. I’m not shy about TP usage for this purpose—this is not a time to show how “green” you are. I must protect my hands. Then, I do one of two things. Either I use or try to use (more on this in a moment) a toilet seat cover, or (most often) I use TP (folded over two or three times, depending on the level of nastiness), over the seat and hanging over the front of the toilet (like the seat cover flap).

When I say I “try” to use a toilet seat cover, well, toilet seat covers and the containers that dispense them are fraught with design flaws. I think that, truly, the crappiest (pun intended) of engineers are assigned to crummy projects such as this. About half the time, the seat cover rips just exiting the mounted dispenser. I used to think that I was pulling them out incorrectly, but I follow the up-down, down-up, in-out, out-in whatever instructions, and the thing STILL rips. And what the heck is up with style that is folded over twice, essentially in quarters? I find these on airplanes mostly, and I guess that the design was driven by space limitations. That thing comes out of the dispenser just fine (usually), but unfolding the thing? I have nothing but scraps in my hands.

I cannot tell you the number of crumpled toilet seat covers I have thrown away, flushed or (forgive me) left orphaned on the floor behind an Alcatraz Bathroom toilet.

The ONLY good news here is that the most abominable of Alcatraz Bathrooms usually have industrial flush capabilities so that stopping up the toilet with all the extra paper (both unwiped TP and seat covers) is not a common occurrence.

I have to say, in cleaner Alcatraz Bathrooms, like at a friend’s house or at work, for example, I don’t usually cover the seat. What kills me, though, is that there is ALWAYS, ALWAYS one stray hair on the seat. Without fail. What to do about stray hairs? Listen, it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, and sometimes you’re wearing Milk Bone underpants (a nod to modern philosopher Norm Peterson). God help me, sometimes I just sit on them. I’m not proud of this, but we all eat plenty of rodent hairs in our food so a stray hair on the seat can’t hurt. Right?

And you kids out there, just to be clear—you can’t get pregnant from sitting on a toilet seat. Tinkerbell—you CAN get pregnant by being alone with a boy for over three minutes. That’s why your dad has to come with you on all future dates.

Policing Your brASS

Guilty.  Guilty as charged.  Big time.  This goes back a long way, too.

I don’t clean up after myself well.

As we’ve established in previous posts, I have no colon.  But I have been poop-challenged for almost 40 years.  Sure, I had some periods of UC remission where I, arguably, pooped like regular boys and girls.

But I also had (and continue to have) long stretches of loose stools.  And, of course, there were the loose and bloody stools.

[Brief aside:  I try to tell patients and their families that bleeding in UC can be the most benign symptom.    And it’s easy to say that one drop of blood can make the whole bowl red and that you shouldn’t overreact .  From first-hand experience, though, I also know how terrifying it is to see blood in your bowl or, worse, in your child’s bowl.  End of brief aside.]

I’m a huge NCIS fan.  That’s another story, but it’s from NCIS that I learned the phrase, “policing your brass.”  It’s meant to refer to picking up your spent shell casings after shooting a gun or rifle.  Being a good housekeeper, if you will.

“Policing your brASS” refers to cleaning up after yourself following a messy poo.

As Sela says, “nobody wants to sit on your $hit.”

I have to say that I was better about this when I used to bleed.  I think this was because I made it too easy for the poo detectives back then.

Poo Detective:  Can you describe the scene?

Poo Witness:  There were red, watery dots all over the seat and bowl.

Poo Detective:  Did you say “red”?

Poo Witness:  Yes sir.

Poo Detective:  He’s at it again.  Han.

Poo Witness:  How can you be sure?

Poo Detective:  Well, we’ll go through the registry of bloody pooers in the neighborhood, but Han had the means and opportunity.  And he works on this floor.  We’re pretty sure we have our man.

This is not a strength of mine.  My performance at Alcatraz Bathrooms is much, much better than my performance on my home field.

Not to make excuses, but the after hours poos present my biggest challenge.  Why?  Well, my vision is about 20-6000, so I don’t see too well without glasses or contacts.  Following a nocturnal trip to the loo, I may police my brASS and think that everything is hunky dory.

But the killer always makes a mistake, doesn’t he?  He fired four shots but only remembered three.  He picked up three spent casings and missed the fourth.  He’s caught, red (or brown) handed.

Please, please be courteous to the next user of toilet, whether it’s a family member, a co-worker, a friend or a stranger.  Again, as Sela says, “nobody wants to sit on your $hit.”

Any of you remember a specifically positive or negative experience with an Alcatraz Bathroom?

I remember a couple.  I can go back years—all the way to that gas station bathroom in Tennessee in the summer of 1976, after my dad almost got a speeding ticket on Interstate 75 South for rushing his colitis son to the nearest exit. I was all of NINE years old when I used it, and I can’t give you many details, but if it was 35+ years ago and I still now remember that it was bad, well, it must have been bad.

DATELINE: Hershey, PA, Spring 2003. (How funny is it that this took place in HERSHEY, PA? I mean, you know, with all of the “Hershey squirt” jokes and such? This is just a coincidence; I promise).

Hershey Park, to be more precise. I gotta go. I REALLY gotta go. My no-colon just can’t stand it any more.

Hershey Park must have been built in the 1930s or something, because there just weren't a lot of bathrooms available. After an intense search, I FINALLY found a bathroom. I entered. And I thought:  WHO DOES THIS? WHO DOES THIS?  Yes, I thought in all caps.

Who is the guy who doesn’t LIFT the toilet seat to pee? REALLY?  Why do I remember THIS particular incident, THIS particular Alcatraz Bathroom? Because it was like some guy took a pee hose and sprayed the whole stall!  It’s like he PLANNED to render the bathroom unusable for any civilized man or beast.

Now, I can make do with almost any Alcatraz Bathroom. (I can’t stop laughing. I’ve been sitting on that one for MONTHS. Get it? “Sitting on that one”? “I can make DO(O)!” I didn’t know when I’d drop that one on you. Get it? “DROP THAT ONE ON YOU!” Should have said, “DROP THAT TWO ON YOU!” Get it? I mean, where can you go for this kind of highbrow humor?)

But I absolutely could NOT make do(o) with this Alcatraz Bathroom. I’m usually flexible. A drop of pee here, a poo remnant on the toilet seat there. I can wipe and clean, I can double or triple layer the toilet seat cover/toilet paper. I’ve got options, you know? But I had nowhere to go this time.

Sela couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t use the toilet. My recollection is that she tried to sell me some kind of explanation that “pee is sterile” and that I should “make do(o).” She was, of course, aware of (had been taken along for) my mad search for a bathroom.

I DON’T CARE IF SOMEBODY ELSE’S PEE IS THE CLEANEST, MOST STERILE, HEALTHIEST LIQUID IN THE UNIVERSE.  I DON'T CARE IF YOU TELL ME THAT I COULD DRINK IT!  I AIN’T SITTING ON IT, AND I DEFINITELY AIN'T DRINKING IT. Sorry, that’s just how I roll.

And thus ends the story of one of the WORST Alcatraz Bathroom experiences of my life.

In the end, I continued to hold it. I can’t recall where I finally relieved myself—whether it was in another bathroom at Hershey Park, at an Alcatraz Bathroom on the way to our next destination, or in my pants. OK, I know it wasn’t in my pants. THAT, I’d remember.  Like that time in Israel. . .but that’s another story for another day.

This entry was inspired by a conversation that I had with Tinkerbell and Jedediah.  Tink and I had just picked up Jedediah from a party.

Tinkerbell (a loyal blog reader) and I were discussing the Alcatraz Bathroom series, and Tinkerbell said, “You ought to do one on Alcatraz Bathroom SOUNDS.”   [Jedediah claims that this was HIS idea, but I digress.]

“What do you mean,” I ask?

We discussed what she meant. Tinkerbell was referring to when an intestinally-challenged person is not “alone” while going poo.

We’re not like you “other people.” You’d call yourselves “normal bowel movers,” but your normal is not our normal. We often have diarrhea or small poop pellets.  You don’t know how much you miss pooping logs until you can’t do it anymore.

So, Tinkerbell, Jedediah and I started discussing our various methods for addressing the embarrassing sound issue. As with other posts in this series, we will separate out single-user bathrooms (like at a friend’s house where sound can emanate outward) from multi-user bathrooms (where you are literally NOT ALONE). We welcome comments with suggestions for other approaches to this difficult problem.

Single-User Bathrooms:

Preferred Method:  Ceiling fan. Repeat after me: “There’s no shame in using the ceiling fan.” The only downside is that someone may be wondering “what you’re doing in there,” but if available, this white noise approach of drowning out the sound is the best.

Alternate method 1:  Controlled discharge (which may just not be possible given your condition). Well timed and spaced plops or splashes work well because it’s not like somebody is standing outside the bathroom while you’re doing your business. At best, they’ll catch a plop or a splash here or there.

Alternate method 2:  Simultaneous poop ‘n flush. This method can be effective also at minimizing odor concerns. Flush drowns out poopy sounds, and I have found (through much field testing, with confirmation by the home office in Slippery Rock, PA) that the quicker you dispose of your feces, the less the bathroom will smell afterwards.

Caveat:  Of course, single-user public bathrooms (like airplanes and gas stations) are no holds barred. You can pretty much do it however you want in there.

Multi-User Bathrooms:

Preferred Method: Hurry up or wait. If you’re alone when you first ascend the throne, do your business ASAP. If you’re not, and if you can wait, wait. The risk you run is that there will be a continuous flow of people in and out. Unless you’re pressed for time, though, it’s not like anybody knows you’re the one in the stall.

Alternate Method 1: Controlled camouflage. Discharge during electric hand drying is best. While you may not be aware, Crohn’s patient Albert Schultz invented the electric hand dryer, famously noting at the press conference that “It won’t dry your hands very well, but the white noise is magnificent.” You can also time your discharge to coincide with the flushing of another toilet or, as long as noisy enough, the running of the faucet.  I find that the opening of the door does not get the job done.

Alternate Method 2:  Simultaneous poop ‘n flush. This was discussed above but is not a preferred method for multi-user bathrooms. It’s just suspicious. The whole point is NOT to bring attention to your poop, and this method FOCUSES everybody on what’s happenin’ in your stall.

Not to get you too giddy with excitement, but our next installment will tackle “Toilet Seat Covers—Friend or Foe?”

Though I engage in jocularity on all topics related to poo, please don’t lose sight of the fact that I’m trying to, literally, take the subject of poo out of the bathroom and into the kitchen (where families can discuss Crohn’s disease and ulcerative colitis while enjoying dinner).

Below, I am going to reveal a theme that I will revisit (over and over and over again, like a joke that just keeps repeating long after it’s no longer funny) in the future on this blog.

I’m dedicating this installment to THE BIG REVEAL of this theme.  Which means that there will be virtually no content below. Seriously. Almost none. There’s no “tip,” no “advice,” no imparted knowledge whatsoever.

In fact, having read the rest of this post, I strongly suggest you stop reading right now.  What follows is excruciatingly boring.  Consider yourself warned.

I was recently inspired where I do some of my best thinking--on the toilet.  I spend gads of time there. (Brief tangent/confession:  I don’t think that this is kosher, but I generally opt for the handicapped stall. There’s just more room in there; I feel more comfortable. My feeling is that I have no colon, and who is more handicapped in a BATHROOM than someone with no colon?  And I obviously feel the same way about people who have IBD.  Don’t be shy.  Use the handicapped stall.  You are poo-challenged.  Take advantage.)

Those of us with no colons or IBD spend WAY TOO MUCH TIME in bathrooms. Lots of away games. And there are lots of “away” places, right? Work. Friend’s houses. Gas stations. Restaurants. Outhouses. I also throw in dorms and fraternity houses.

Each of these "away" places presents dilemmas.  You can tailor your own loo to your whims and desires, and you can use (or misuse) it in your discretion  "Away" bathrooms?  I wanted a term to encompass these for future blog purposes.

These are not all “public bathrooms.” A “public bathroom,” by definition, is open to the public. Which is not the case with, for example, a friend’s bathroom.

Likewise, these are not all “communal bathrooms.” Now, I’m not 100% sure what a communal bathroom is, but when I think “communal,” I think “commune” and then “communism” and if there’s one thing that a bathroom is NOT, it’s communist.

In fact, I couldn’t think of an existing term that worked, so I set off to coin my own.  After unimaginable inner turmoil, I came upon an epiphany of sheer and utter brilliance (if I do say so myself, and I do):

What do each of these bathrooms share?

They share the fact that you (as the pooper) HAVE NOT SELECTED THE TOILET PAPER! You are literally stuck with whatever is there (unless you BYO, and take it from personal experience, the stares probably aren’t worth it).

In considering what to call these, I actually went back to “communal bathroom,” seeing as not being able to select your own toilet paper did, all of a sudden, sound communist to me. But the term “communist” has unnecessarily negative (for these purposes) connotations, so I again discarded the communists.

Finally, I just said the heck with it. I’m making something up. I’m calling them Alcatraz Bathrooms because, well, “Alcatraz Bathrooms” sounded kind of cool to me. Plus, Alcatraz is surrounded by water. Which is important for no reason that I can see.

So, future posts will take up our groundbreaking series on Alcatraz Bathrooms. We’ll have posts on AT LEAST the following six topics (in no particular order): toilet paper, etiquette, toilet seat covers (friend or foe?), stall/room size, décor and stench control.

I hope that you’ve learned absolutely nothing. Because I certainly have.