Sadly, yes.
To the extent I kept
Bin bag
Jeans
Knickers
Wipes
Toilet roll in the boot of the car.
Both 'd'd and d'h' took pleasure in pushing myself to the point of 'no return'. Once my stomach starts to turn I've shat myself. It's only a question of when. Can't even get my knickers down as it can spill onto jeans, so need to remember to take of shoes jeans move out of way ie danger zone, BEFORE dropping knickers because of the way they ruckle up when dropped.
At least then I could clean knickers enough to pull them up, even with paper between me and them to stop soreness. The acid in what comes out hurts.
Been signed off with stress for 15 years because of it. On advice of DWP doctor from medical insisted on gastro referral and during the subsequent colonoscopy they found, and removed an adenoma, a pre-cancerous polyp. 'd'd used to tell me that all I could do was to shit myself. She had constants when she was in terminale at lycée and during the year also had a polyp removed. GP acted straight away. With me, when I took him the DWP book to sign he just scribbled anxiety depression. Luckily I didn't have bowel cancer. Also I landed with the loveliest, kindest and gentlest Dr from the employment Dr service who, after he signed me off for life, said ethically he couldn't advise me, but, he felt it was really important to get it investigated. Maybe it was saying the médecin de travail insisted I should see a gastro-enterologist (gastrologue in French).
I can no longer do the poo test for bowel cancer. I've had 2 colonoscopies, and due another next year, which should be the last. So, just over 6 years since they found the polyp.
Had my gall bladder out in 2012.
I've found that once I've sliced myself down in a shower, the skin is much sensitive for soap of any type so have used non-sls containing aqueous cream or E45 cream, as opposed to lotion.
I've a nightmare memory of being told we needed to ring a plumber urgently. I begged him to stop. He carried on knowing
1 His French wasn't up to using the phone
2 He maintained he couldn't understand his accent. Tbf the local accent is quite strong, and that's after you've removed all the 'putain de bordel de saloperie de merde's out. And that was my GP!
We were about 20 miles from home and on the way back to the car. Less than half-way back, part way up a hill, digging my nails into my skin trying desperately to distract my rebellious guts, they let go. Literally.
Fortunately we had a long sloping drive that went around the back of the house, and a cellar, with a door. He'd drive in - me on the side away from the ndn, stand behind the car to block the view and I'd get off the bin bag get in the house into the ground floor shower room and deal with the aftermath bundling up towel (if needed) and jeans/knickers.
Guilt tripped in when he realised yet again he'd pushed me too far. Again.
Hope that's of use and not tmi.
As you can tell I've got the video, t-shirt, dvd, Blu-ray etc
If I can possibly give you any more help, don't help to ask, possibly best by pm.
Never, ignore what you feel might be (just) a fart. Just in case.
Take care