Now actually, it was a learning experience.
It was three years ago. For a couple of days, I experienced excited bowels, which was extraordinary, because such a thing just doesn't happen. It was confusing, but I thought it'd go away.
The third day, I happened to take a cat to the veterinary for a shot, and he mentioned parasites, a comment which I let go over my head.
By the fourth day, I was enormously bloated. Look at my avatar, which is a photograph of franksolich taken this same summer, and add four inches onto that waistline. That's what it was like; I was bloated.
Those of us who grew up in cattle country are familiar with the phenomenon of cattle bloated up like big balloons when they've dined on too-green alfalfa. If one catches the problem soon enough, it can be resolved by suddenly jabbing some big sharp instrument into the side of the cow, releasing the gases. But unfortunately it usually isn't caught soon enough, and the poor cow blows up like a balloon, ultimately exploding.
I happened to recall what the veterinary had said, and after consulting the diary of the long-ago English physician in Afghanistan, went to the grocery store in town and purchased a 24-ounce bag of whole grain brown rice, and two cans of pure beef gravy, to make the rice palatable. I cooked the rice only half the recommended time, as I wanted it to remain hard.
I consumed this in three helpings over the next 24 hours.
The sixth night, I was out in the country when I abruptly sensed now was "the time."
When I got out of the car, the lighted electronic clock read "12:24" (a.m.). I hurried into the abandoned field, and let loose.
Geezuz. I swear, the volume of natural gas that spurted out would've heated a home for a whole winter.
When I got back to the car, the lighted electronic clock read "12:46" (a.m.); I figured I'd spent about half that time getting out to the field and then returning to the vehicle, and guessed I'd let loose a full eleven minutes.
Surprisingly, no damage to the underwear.
I was weak, considerably weak, and barely made it home. I put down a lot of water and went to bed.
I must've been dehydrated, because I didn't have to get up to empty the bladder at all.
In the morning, I was still weak and trembly, but less so, and so I put down some more water.
By noon, it was as if it'd never happened, and the waistline had returned to its normal 34".
No need to bother a physician about it at all.
