Storytelling

Fecal Transplant Found to Cure More Than Clostridium

A study published Wednesday in the New England Journal of Medicine found that fecal transplants cured 15 of 16 people who had recurring infections with Clostridium difficile bacteria. Meanwhile, only seven of 26 patients in two control groups were cured with antibiotics. Physicians and researchers believe that fecal matter transplanted from a healthy person restores that normal balance of bacteria. — http://www.stltoday.com/lifestyles/health-med-fit/study-fecal-transplants-cure-serious-infection/article_d2c69d21-ad6f-5099-8639-8fd777f14c79.html

I was thrilled that the fecal transplant cured my Clostridium infection. It was a disgusting procedure, but two things convinced me to attempt it: first of all, my doctor explained that I could perform it myself in the privacy of my home; secondly, the replacement feces does not have to be ingested orally.

It didn’t cure me the first time out of the chute. Or into the chute, such as it was. I blame my wife. She was disgusted with having to assist me, and I think she has inferior feces. I performed the procedure a second time with some premium poop from my doctor, who was only too happy to oblige, and gained a great deal of flexibility in my lower back by doing it myself. My doctor was pleased because he was able to bill me for his time on the toilet.

There was a tremendous side benefit: once the good doctor’s feces had a chance to assert its biological powers, it cured me of both the infection and my fear of blood. Also, I acquired full knowledge of the human gastro-intestinal tract, my doctor’s specialty.

Next I tried the feces of my butcher, John Borzi. Nowadays, when meat is bought wrapped and frozen in plastic, it’s unusual enough to even know your butcher’s name. But it helps to use someone’s name when you are asking them for a sample of their feces. Once I had injected his feces into my colon, I found that my chronic gall bladder problems were gone. Also, my thumb suddenly weighed three pounds.

Buoyed this success, I asked for a feces sample from my golf pro. This request was easier than the others because my golf pro has been giving me shit for quite some time. With his sample safely injected, I finally cured my slice.

It occurred to me then that I might be able to correct any number of my flaws. I have astigmatism, carpal tunnel, and male pattern baldness. All of these are in my past.

I thought my biggest problem would be the last to be cured, so sensitive is the issue, but my erectile dysfunction was really not a challenge. George Clooney sent me a small sample (autographed) but it was plenty to restore my vitality.

With all those things corrected, I realized I wanted one more thing: my youth. But that seemed impossible to correct, even with feces. And wouldn’t it seem odd to ask of a youngster. Might I be arrested for such a request.

The Lord works in mysterious ways, however, and one evening my doorbell rang, and there, on the front step, was a paper plate filled with a fresh sample of feces. No doubt the work of teenage vandals, the steaming prank could not have been more welcome had it been served on a silver platter.

I thought I had I would enjoy this new lease on life, this second chance. But now I fear I have developed a great problem for which a feces transplant won’t help. I am constipated.