A Ring of Fire

Notes from a birthday hike involving salamander eggs, hope, and zinc oxide cream.

Warning: This edition of Chronically Crappy Chronicles contains discussions of Crohn’s disease, diarrhea, butt paste, stress incontinence, toilet seat mechanics, and a conversation about bidets. Proceed at your own risk.

I wore yoga pants with no underwear today on our hike, which I have done a million times. Plus I have had that diarrhea that looks like bile is coming out of it for days, which burns my skin I’m sure. Plus the bidet and all the wiping. I was sweating a lot. In my pants. It was terrible. I don’t have that often and I hike a lot. I swear to God, and I will call myself crazy, but my sister and I are usually the pain’s in each other’s ass, and I literally got one with her today. 

I have this perfect ring of pain an inch or two from my butthole. My skin is on fire. I am sitting on a soft pillow as I type. Ouch! There is Desitin everywhere. I will never let a baby go with a diaper rash again in my life. Now with Crohn’s and my rectal issues aplenty, Desitin and bidets are my friends. I get rashes all the time. Irritations. My already sensitive skin can’t stand toilet paper. If I poop outside the home with crappy toilet paper, rash. But lordy lordy, this one stings. I didn’t think I was covering the area well enough, so I walked my tube of Desitin from the hall bath to the master bathroom so I could get a good look at my poor little red butthole. Of course, this involved bending over in front of the full-length mirror, holding one butt cheek up, and lathering it until every bit of red was covered with the selected finger of choice for this glorious event.

My husband, laying in bed trying to sleep, questioned, “What are you doing now?”

Do not ask questions you do not want answers to, I responded.

He conceded and said it can’t be as bad as peeing your pants from coughing like the last time I came in, ten minutes ago to clean up and change. I thanked him for the reminder and grabbed a pair of sweats to throw over my super soft leggings, the last clean pair.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

I told him that in case I pee again, I don’t want it to get on my pillow.

“Pillow?” he asked, confused.

There is that question thing again. He will learn. I cannot wait to see what tomorrow’s ailments bring.

The funny part is that all of this came after what was actually a really wonderful day. Tonight I was supposed to walk with my two neighbors for the first night of our newly formed ladies walking night, but I was injured after my niece’s birthday adventure. A few weeks ago she was bit by a baby squirrel she had befriended, picked up, and got nipped by. Her birthday landed on the last day of school and our weekly Seedlings meeting, so I thought, let’s go to the conservation center for our weekly adventure. When I called, they told me they would be feeding baby squirrels. Perfect. She learned her lesson. Now she can learn about them in the wild. The stars had aligned.

I planned some fun games for the hike. Follow the Leader, where someone picks an animal and everyone has to walk and act like it. Forage and Freeze, where I just yell forage and they run around and then freeze. We did Coyote Crossing where they basically played tag. This was the first time their mom, my sister, was joining us. I was so hopeful that her daughter’s pure joy and love of all things nature would be life changing for her, that she would start joining us, that somehow we would help the kids relive our childhood out in Grandpa’s woods and at Indian Princess campouts with Dad. I always disappoint myself, but it’s kind of my jam to always have hope.

Our hike and games were cut short by the creek. My niece loves the creek. Shoes off, regulating, exploring, pure joy. Then she found two eggs floating in the water and was instantly obsessed. As I made my way along the overgrown bank, my foot slipped and I went down on my knee. Thank God it was my good knee, so recoverable. I had never seen eggs like that before, so I took a picture and went to ChatGPT. Amphibian. Most likely salamander eggs. We had literally just relearned our lesson about leaving nature alone because of the squirrels. Ugh. “But I thought it was a rock when I picked it up, and look, this one is already dented. Can I please show Mom?” she asked. So of course I gave in. It’s her birthday. There is no way that egg is viable anyway, but we leave the other one.

She goes running up to show her mom and then…

Crunch. Yolk all over her hand. Thank God there wasn’t a baby in there. Then she puts her hand toward her mouth.

“Can I please eat it?”

NO!

So not only am I sweating, but the cottonwood, dogwood, whatever that white floating crap is everywhere, is making my eyes, nose, and throat hate me for having them outside. I can feel the sweat burning my skin as it slides down my butt crack. The more I wipe it with my soggy pants, the more it hurts. At that point I left once we got back to my sister’s house with a half promise to return for dinner later. I was going to have my niece the next morning, so I already knew we weren’t coming back unless my husband really wanted to. I had my walking night with the ladies, but by the time it rolled around, I decided my knee needed a break and I couldn’t go.

The ladies asked if I would like them to take my dog. Then they ended up taking my daughter and my dog. I swear I am not destined to have a moment of peace until right now. The funny thing is that all of these interactions were wonderful. Even my normally pain-in-the-ass sister didn’t cause me stress. The ladies brought the dog back, and we were standing around talking with my husband when the conversation somehow drifted from plumbing issues to bathroom remodels to bidets. My husband started telling them that never in his life has he had to tighten toilet seats more.

I explained that I lean to one side to wipe and sometimes use the bidet and it twists the seat. One neighbor looked confused. The other immediately said, “Me too. I just tighten them.”

I stared at her. “I always thought they were all loose.”

Apparently not. “Her whole family does it,” my husband added.

Then we moved on to constipation and bidets. I explained how life changing it has been to shoot cold water up my butthole. I explained that my husband does not appreciate my collection of little finger condoms that occasionally become necessary when things are really stuck.

“Too much information,” he informed me.

Everyone was hysterical. Now my cough was back because I was laughing too hard. And then I peed again.

My niece got to see baby squirrels. The kids ran through the woods pretending to be animals. We found salamander eggs. Nobody ate one. My daughter got two adventures. My neighbors walked my dog. My husband survived another conversation he never wanted to have. Even my sister wasn’t stressful.

For once, the pain in my ass wasn’t my sister. It was just my ass. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a pillow to protect and tomorrow’s ailments to prepare for.