Before i moved to the United States, i had never had a toilet clogged in my life.
Growing up in Australia, i thought a plunger was some magical cartoon implement that didn’t actually exist in real life. I never saw a real one until i came to the States.
Would flushing several times throughout the process help? You could install an automatic flush toilet if he couldn’t do that by himself. Surely he isn’t dropping elephant bombs all at once.
I live in an apartment building that has a lot of horizontal plumbing, and yes, there is a “mechanical” way of dealing with it. Keep a knife handy near the toilet, and cut them up manually before flushing. I hesitate to use the term “bite size”, but you get the picture. Use rubber gloves and/or wash your hands afterward. Learn to handle poop, you life will be a lot easier.
A couple of flushes made clear that there was no way this massive trout was ever going to make it through the S-bend. It had to be physically pummeled into submission with the plunger.
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Oh my god, I laughed so hard at this!!
In the early 90’s I switched to the water saving toilets. I forget which brand I bought (from HD)
but it was THE WORST toilet, every #2 clogged them up. So I did some research and replaced them with ones that have a 2 1/2 inch glazed trap. Haven’t had a single clog since.
To Hell with the special toilet; let’s start with the simple fork…
Put it down and step away.
I can’t help wondering if the person that’s producing such prodigious output should maybe see a doctor. This kind of thing is not normal or healthy, so far as I know.
Why? Why do I open, and read, these threads?
That’s ridiculous. What are you basing that on?
I have the embarrassing claim to fame that I’ve clogged a toilet in every state and country where I’ve ever taken a dump. Even as a little kid I could have been ranked high on ratemypoo.com.
I asked my internist about my prodigious poop output, and the fact that only poop every 2 or 3 days. He said as long as it was regular, and not causing me any problems (other than the clogged toilets) that it didn’t really matter how long it was between dumps. I eat a lot of fiber; could probably stand to drink more water; but otherwise healthy person. I’ve been this way all my life.
Short of spending over a thousand or more or on a super toilet the obvious solution is to train the person to bust up their feces. If they are truly retarded then the person assisting them with bowel movements will have to do this, alternatively if they can be trusted to go on their own they can probably be trusted to break up the feces mass by themselves.
The only question is what to use. I’m think something cheap made of stiff coat hanger wire or a long handled metal barbecue spatula or similar would work and you will need a small trash with lid can to keep it in. They will probably have to be instructed the first few times they employ it.
Doesn’t every household have a poopsmith? Every one I’ve lived in has had a poopsmith.
http://www.hrwiki.org/wiki/The_Poopsmith
Here’s my plan…
For the time being, I found a suggestion on another web site to get Roebic Laboratories K-97-4 Main Line Cleaner. Pour some onto the offending item, wait a half hour, and it’s been dissolved. This has been tested by a family member and it works.
Backup plan, got some 1/4-inch diameter wooden craft dowels that can be used to chop up a clog. Dowel can be disposed of afterward.
Long-term plan – The bathroom is due for a rehab anyhow. When I get around to it, I’m going to get one of those Caroma toilets with the 4-inch outflow.
Thanks to everyone for their suggestions!
I can easily imagine some drunk person on their knees hugging the toilet. When suddenly the poop grinder comes on. :eek:
Epitaph on the tombstone.
R.I.P. dude had his face chewed off by a out of control poop grinder.
Chopsticks.
They’re not mechanical, though.
Oh Jesus! a terrible, terrible flashback to a Boxing Day at a girlfriends parents house now, thankfully, many years ago. I made the catostrophic error of using the little downstairs toilet, and ended up battling this monster for seemingly hours, Moby Dick style: it just refused to die.
Right outside the door the whole family is walking up and down with cold cuts and all the trimmings, I’m getting sweatier and sweatier and everyone is wondering where the new boyfriend is … utter humiliation.
I am sorry for your problems. Couldn’t you send him out to the woods?
heh.
I grew up in rural NorCal, and we had a composting toilet such as this for many years. I must have been in 8th grade or so when we put it in, 1987ish, and it was in use until shortly after my dad passed away in 2002.